Page 121 of Naughty Nelle

He tilted up my chin with his thumb as I fought back tears. “I thought you might like to have them back. You’re quite a Cinderella.”

In some way, at this moment, I felt like Cinderella. A clock gonged in my head. It was time to leave. That was the deal. His next line confirmed it.

“I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

Planting his hand on the small of my back, he ushered me out of the room and walked by my side as we traversed the long foyer. There was no more physical contact, not even the holding of a hand. Maybe, “maybe” really meant maybe. Or never. I had to remember that this man was afraid of a relationship. Afraid of commitment. I had to accept that. It just wasn’t as easy as I thought.

Ari pushed the button by the elevator and the door immediately slid open. To my shock, he shoved me into the carriage, straight into the corner. As the door closed, he pinned me against the upholstery with his hip and crushed his lips onto mine. The kiss was fierce, all-consuming, and passionate. As the elevator descended, a fire re-ignited in my core and coursed through my body. Oh what a kisser this gorgeous god was!

When the door reopened, he pulled his lips off mine. I was breathing heavily, and my legs were trembling.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said, leaning his body against the door to hold it open.

“Sure,” I said breathlessly.

“Andre is waiting for you outside to take you home.”

My heart clenched. Reality. I was going home.

As I stepped out into the lobby, he placed his strong hands on my shoulders, holding me back. He spun me around to face him. My skin tingled from his touch as his warm breath skimmed my cheeks.

“Goodnight, Saarah.”

My gaze held his as if we would never see each other again. I held back the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Goodnight,” I said softly.

Forcing myself to not look back, I headed toward the entrance of 1001 Park Avenue. I heard the elevator door close behind me. My heart sank. He didn’t ask me out. Or even ask me to meet him for a coffee or a run. Clutching the bag with my shoes, I stepped into the foggy New York night, unsure if any form of “we” was meant to be.

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