Page 10 of Elevator Pitch

“Graham… I think…” I stutter and he lowers his legs, his body dragging across the bulge in my jeans and fuck… “God, I wish…” My hands find his face, and as he leans into the touch, everything I’ve hidden from, all the things I’ve denied, the parts of myself I’ve kept locked away inside, beg to be unleashed. It’s been too long. “I wish I could… I want… hell, I don’t even know… but I?—”

“Hello?” a deep masculine voice calls through the cracked doors of the elevator and my entire body freezes. “Anyone in there?”

Panic floods my veins and I can’t move. My hands shake where they rest against Graham’s skin, but his hazel eyes never leave mine.

“Here,” Graham calls back, and every instinct I have is screaming for me to push away, to back off.You’re going to get caught. Move. Move. Move.But my heart is thundering like I’m in the crease, poised just outside the net, in the middle of a shoot-out, and I couldn’t move a muscle if I tried. I’m stuck between wanting and reality, and somewhere in the back of my head I can hear the voice that’s telling me to breathe, telling me that the man can’t see us, telling me it shouldn’t matter if he could see us or not.

“The whole building is out,” the man explains. “The storm took out half the Strip’s power.”

“It’s okay,” Graham’s words are quiet as his hands cover mine. “It’s okay,” he says again, and I swallow when I realize he’s talking to me, some of the fear fading as he smiles. “How longdo you think before the power’s back on?” Graham shouts, and again those eyes hold me captive.

“Unfortunately, the casino’s generators failed. We’re working as fast as we can with what we have, but we’re hoping to get everything up and running within the hour.”

“An hour?” Graham exhales with what almost sounds like relief. “I guess that works.”

“Maybe sooner… Hang in there, alright,” the guy says, and after a minute everything goes silent again.

“Are you okay?” Graham hasn’t moved his hands, the unwavering warmth of his skin on mine makes everything less overwhelming. “He couldn’t see us.”

“I know, it’s just…” I shrug, and when he drops his hands to my shoulders, I keep mine in place, my thumb tracing that addictive line along his jaw. “I haven’t given in, haven’t allowed myself to have this in such a long time, and then all of a sudden it’s you, and it’s hot as fuck in here, and I didn’t… think.”

“Maybe you think too much,” he teases, but he bites the corner of his lip, and I stare at the pink dusting on the tops of his cheeks. “I get it… I mean, I don’tget it. Not in the same way at least. Even if I wasn’t always out either, I’m not you, and I don’t have the same pressures, but I have to wonder… especially after a kiss like that…” He sucks in a breath, his eyes, all wide pupils and hooded, fall to my mouth. “How the hell have you ever held yourself back in the first place?”

I shouldn’t, but I smile at the way his compliment lights me up from the inside. I’m the same way on the ice, seeking praise anyway I can get it.

My thumb moves to the curve of his bottom lip, too aware we are both still shirtless with sweat dampening our skin as we find ourselves leaning in yet again. The pull is unreal, and the tang of my panic lingers, but not enough to ruin the memory of the taste of his mouth. There’s an inch between us—and the possibility ofan hour. One hour to not think, to have more kisseslike that, to give in. One hour to allow myself to just be me.

The light on my phone flickers before it blinks out. The darkness covers us, offering privacy, offering an abandon I desperately need as my mouth crashes into his, into that delicious, sweet surrender.

5

GRAHAM

“Caleb, I can’t…I want…”I murmur against his lips because my entire body is alight with electric energy from his mouth and hands and tongue.

“I want you too.” His voice is gruff, and it makes me shiver.

My fingers scale down to his zipper and I place my palm against the fabric. “Is this okay?”

“Oh, fuck yes.” The last word sounds more like a whine, and there’s nothing quite like hearing a man beg for it—whether on the giving or receiving end.

I press with the heel of my hand and note how big and hard he is. Christ, I can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like—no, I need to push aside that train of thought and focus on the fact that this is a big deal to Caleb.

Little does he realize that it’s also a big deal to me. And not only because all of this feels surreal, but raw and visceral too. Especially after we’d confessed some truths to each other. If I don’t take advantage of this opportunity, I’ll always wonder about Caleb and feel regret that I never got a chance to be with him in a way he never allows. That alone is something special. Even for a one-off.

“Can I…touch you too?”

“Please,” I huff out in my own needy voice, and when his knuckles brush across my fly, my knees nearly give out. “Ah, fuck.”

This might be a bad idea, but I can’t find it in me to care. I can’t see beyond my pure want in this moment to have any regrets. The only thing that matters is making Caleb feel good. Giving him what he’s been missing.

I deepen the kiss, my tongue exploring his mouth, trying to memorize the feel of his lips against mine before we run out of time. Before he’s gone and the entire experience is just a distant memory in my rearview mirror.

His fingers dig into the small of my back and I can taste the raw need on his tongue. Our kisses grow more frantic as I swallow down his groans.

I press my palm more firmly against his hardness and massage him through the material. “Fuck…I’m gonna blow.”

“Tell me about it.” My own dick is straining against his fingers. “Wanna feel more of you.”

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