Page 26 of Close to the Edge

I entered the left building and smiled at the guard behind the security desk. “Morning, Charlie.”

The stout, middle-aged man smiled back. “Morning, Miss Gracen.”

“This is Mr. Steele. He’s a...consultant visiting from LA for...a while. Can you sort out a security pass for him?”

Charlie’s gaze swung to Caleb before he nodded. “Sure thing.”

Caleb handed over his ID for verification, took the pass handed over and studied it with a frown as we headed for the elevator.

“What?”

He leveled his blue-eyed gaze at me. “You’re a lousy liar.”

Heat rushed into my face and I redirected my attention to the LED floor counter. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

From the corner of my eye, I caught his deepening scowl.

“Something else bothering you, Mr. Steele?”

“Charlie suspected I wasn’t a consultant, and yet he gave me a security pass anyway. I wasn’t searched. Like those rent-a-cops in LA, he would’ve been useless if I truly wished you harm,” he snapped.

I hit the emergency stop button on the elevator, my temper once again bubbling to the surface. “First of all, Charlie is good at his job. The normal procedure for bringing a guest into the building is way more stringent than that. He let a few things slide becausehe knows me. Second, you assume that if you’d been holding a weapon on me I would’ve folded like a cheap noodle. I can take care of myself. If you don’t believe me, try me.”

The words were hardly out of my mouth before he lunged for me. Strong hands gripped my waist, lifted me high and pinned me against the wall.

“What the hell?” My voice was a husky mess.

“Okay. Challenge accepted.”

I tried to snatch the breath he’d knocked out of me with his action and proximity. All I got was a knee-weakening hit of his intoxicating scent. That and intense deep-blue eyes.

His gaze dropped to my lips. He exhaled, long and deep, still staring at my mouth for breath-stealing seconds. His grip tightened around my waist, imprinting heat from his touch directly onto my skin. A low, insistent throb started between my legs.

I dropped my satchel and brought one knee up, only to have him block me with a smooth deflection a few inches before it made contact between his legs. His low laugh made me see red. I slammed both wrists against his neck. The gleam in his eyes mocked me and I knew he could’ve evaded me if he’d wanted to. But with the semi-blunt spikes from my cuffs digging into his carotid, he was going nowhere.

His thumbs pressed into my hipbones, his body pinning me harder into the wall. “And here I thought those cuffs were just to drive up a man’s blood pressure,” he breathed against my lips.

The ends of his hair teased my fingers, sparking a need to twist them into his hair. “You can’t really be talking since I’ve just virtually ripped your throat out,” I murmured.

He gave another laugh. “True. Score one to you.”

“Great. You can...let me go now.” Why did the second part of that sentence stick in my throat?

He shook his head. “Not until you agree to stop calling me Mr. Steele.”

“And if I don’t?” I challenged.

“Technically, I’m dying. I deserve a last wish, don’t you think?”

“And your last wish is for me to say your name?”

His gaze dropped to devour my mouth. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t mind another taste of you, too. Or those hot little hands on my cock again. Hell, I’ll take whatever you give.”

“You... I...”

“Ball’s in your court, baby,” he encouraged thickly, then flexed his hips, offering the vivid imprint of his cock between my thighs as he gave a strained laugh. “Literally.”

Dear God. He was thick. And long.

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