Page 11 of My CEO Neighbor
Chapter Three
Monica
Monica watched Ted's face as the emergency lighting flickered and dimmed to half its previous intensity.The harsh yellow glow seemed to soften and suddenly the elevator felt less like a prison and more like a confession booth.
She'd been teaching breathing techniques for five years, but the way Ted had asked for help—reluctant, almost defeated—made him more interesting to her.
In the dim light, she could see details she'd missed before.The way his sexy cologne mixed with his natural scent.The way his perfectly tailored shirt stretched across broad shoulders when he shifted position.The strong line of his jaw, shadowed with the hint of five o'clock shadow that made her fingers itch to touch.
Focus,Monica told herself firmly.Breathing lesson.That's all this was.
"Okay," Monica said, shifting to face him more directly."First thing is to sit down."
Ted glanced at the floor with obvious distaste."On the ground?"
"Unless you have a chair hidden somewhere."Monica patted the space beside her, acutely aware of how small the elevator was, how close they'd be if he sat next to her."Don't worry.The floor won't compromise your corporate dignity."
"I wasn't worried about—" Ted stopped, shook his head, and lowered himself to sit across from her instead of beside her.Smart man.The elevator was small enough that sitting next to each other would have put them close enough to touch, and Monica wasn't entirely sure that would be wise right now.
Though she found herself disappointed by his choice.
Ted looked cramped, his long legs bent awkwardly, but he'd loosened his tie just enough to reveal a strip of throat that made her knees weak in ways that definitely weren't professional.His hands rested on his knees—strong hands with long fingers that looked like they could be gentle when they wanted to be.
Monica caught herself staring and forced her attention back to his face.Focus.Breathing lesson.
"Good," she said, proud of how steady her voice sounded despite the way her heart was racing."Now, put one hand on your chest and one on your stomach."
Ted followed her instructions, and Monica tried not to notice how his shirt pulled across his shoulders, or the way his dark hair had fallen slightly across his forehead when he looked down.She definitely tried not to imagine what those hands would feel like on her skin instead of his own chest.
When was the last time a man had touched her?Really touched her, with intention and desire?Monica pushed the thought away, but it lingered, making her hyperaware of Ted's physical presence in the small space.
"When you breathe normally, which hand moves more?"
Ted inhaled, and Monica found herself watching the movement of his chest, the way the fabric of his shirt rose and fell."The top one."
"That's the problem.You're breathing into your lungs instead of your belly."Monica demonstrated, placing her own hands in position, acutely aware that Ted's eyes followed the movement."Chest breathing is shallow, stress breathing.It tells your nervous system that something's wrong."
"Something is wrong.We're trapped in an elevator."
"Are we in immediate physical danger?"
Ted considered this, and Monica watched emotions play across his face—frustration, resignation, curiosity."No."
