Page 28 of Merry Little Mishap

“Nick?” I wanted to fall back, but was already against the elevator wall: blushing, hot with a sticky sweat that took over my entire body.

“Do you really think I’m cute?” he asked.

My eyes watered. Sad? Excited? Overwhelmed?

“Yes. I do,” I said timidly.

“And what if I told you I felt the same? What if I told you that the biggest lie I ever said to get to someone was with you? That I could’ve fixed your sink by now, but have delayed it, just so that I could see you more, or that all this food I got tonight wasn’t just for me, but for us. What if I told you that in that paper bag behind us were all the ingredients for coquito, that I wanted to make you feel like you were home again? Everything I do is secretly for you because I want you, and even though I know it’s dangerous to get involved, I’ll do it, because I’d rather lose you now, than live another second not telling you how I feel.” He gravitated closer, his breath sweet like rum and mint.

“You mean that, Nick? You did all this for me?” I tried not to cry, resisting the urge to leap up and kiss him.

“Just for you, Elena. I want to do everything for you. I wanted to spend tonight with you, which is a much better holiday than anything I could’ve imagined… and that’s why we’re still stuck here.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It means… if I told you I could’ve really fixed this elevator by now, would you be mad at me?”

His confession settled into my chest, a bombshell truth that caused my eyes to water. It was crazy, it was wild, but most of all, it was something that felt so endearing, only because it was Nick—my Nick—a man who never once judged me like I judged myself.

“I could never be mad at you,” I said.

Nick leaned in, his forehead settling onto mine. His breath, his touch, his heat, turned me on and made me throb. “You lost the game,” I said, hopelessly delighted that he was the first to make contact.

“Did I?” he smiled. “Maybe I actually just won?”

“Maybe…”

Nick said nothing.

He gritted and leaned in further, my body shaking from the touch of his bristled, five o’clock shadow, as my palms caught on fire, turning our seconds into minutes, our minutes into hours, and those hours into an infinite pool of time and stars that exploded behind my eyes.

Hislips pressed against mine.

Nick’s!

My stomach instantly fluttered, my body a shell of bull riding heartbeats that bucked wildly as Nick moaned my name, his kiss sweeter than the sweetest rum from Puerto Rico.

And as I melted against the elevator wall, I rubbed my clit faster, harder, greedy to kiss him back, not caring if it felt desperate, because that’s how I felt, and I was grateful for how honest it made me feel.

He was a god, he was an angel, mischievous yet sweet. He was Nick-fucking-Stafford.

“Do you want me to open the elevator?” He asked sweetly, his cock slipping free and onto my stomach.

“Don’t,” I warned, his fingers interlacing with mine. “Not until we’re done.”

Of all the wrong things to do, of all the warning signs I learned from my sister and her divorce—how not to be involved with those you work around, live around—this was the test I knew I’d fail. It was wrong to lie to Elena, and it was wrong to touch her, but fuck if I couldn’t resist the urge to graze my finger—hell, my pinky—across the smooth, tanned spot right above her bellybutton.

“I should be gentle, but it’s so goddamn hard not to devour you right now.” I seethed into her curls, her arms wrapped around my shoulders. “I feel like I’ve waited for so long, and the longer it’s been, the hungrier I’ve gotten.” Slowly my pants fell loose as I kicked off my boots, standing tall against Elena’s soft skin, her chin raised to my chest as I brushed my nose down her head and onto her cheek.

“Just kiss me. Lift me and let me taste your lips. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” she whined sweetly. “Savor it. Savor me.”

“Every inch.” I claimed her, her ass mantled onto my palms as I pushed my weight against her and the elevator wall, wedging her near the railing for support. “You’re so hot, Elena… so, so hot. I can feel it between your legs.” I kissed those pouty red lips that had always belonged to me, stifling my need to fuck her hard, from thrusting the entirety of my erection right into her little slit. Savoring wasn’t just what she wanted, it’s what sheneeded—mycomplete appreciation of the only moment I ever dreamed of.

“You can really feel me?” she shuddered, surprised.

“Of course.” I tried not to answer weakly, her needy clit puffy and wet, grinding with the sway of her hips over the head of my cock, covering me with her sweet feminine scent that drove me feral. I kissed her again, licking her lips, sucking them, memorizing her scent for later, her neck and hair sweet like jasmine and strawberries.

“I like that,” she moaned. “Your scruff on me, it’s rough, but nice.”

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