Page 83 of Resurrection
He offers me a small smile. Then there’s another awkward moment of silence between us.
"It’s on the fifth floor," I blurt out and turn toward the bank of elevators.
"Lead the way," Ty says, falling into step beside me as I start walking.
We’re the only ones there waiting for the cabin to come down. It’s empty when it arrives and no one else approaches to get on, and that makes me happy. I don’t want to be seen with Tyler Brady going up to a suit inside the Sageview Casino.
We stand clumsily apart until the doors close.
The ride stretches out, neither of us talking, but the quiet is charged. It's like we're both waiting to see who'll make the first move.
And then Tyler whips out his hand and stabs the red button.
The cabin stops moving with a tiny mechanical squeal.
"What the hell, Ty?" I turn to face him, a little shocked.
He doesn’t reply. He takes a step in my direction. Both hands cradle my cheeks, and then he kisses me. Hard and demanding.
I’m too stunned to react, too lost in the moment of this sudden physical intimacy with him. My body is abuzz, filled with thousands of tiny sparks. My cheeks burn from his touch, gentle but firm. Such a strange, overwhelming combination.
My feet falter and I lose my balance, then stumble and almost fall back. He quickly snakes one arm around my waist and pushes me against the wall.
I don’t know what’s going on anymore.
His kiss is deep, insistent, a mix of old and new that has my heart racing. I kiss him back like I've been waiting forever, my fingers tangling in his hair. It’s wrong, and it’s not what I wanted to do, but that’s what happens because my traitorous body can't control itself in his presence.
"Wow, you’re not wasting time," I breathe out when we pull apart to get some air, but he shuts me up with another kiss.
Our lips can’t seem to get enough of each other, our tongues chasing the high, our hands touching and fingers brushing. This kind of intensity—mind-numbing and all-consuming—only happens when I’m with him.
"Ty," I whisper eventually, shoving him back gently. "This is a public elevator."
"It’s not if no one can see us," he supplies as he leans close to my ear, his voice a little raspy.
"I’m serious."
"You always are, Nomes."
Gosh, he hasn’t called me that since high school. My knees almost give out from the onslaught of memories. I hate it and I love it, and I have no idea what to do with it. So, I do the one thing a woman in my situation probably shouldn’t—I reach into my purse and pull out my lipstick. Because now it’s definitely smudged, and it’s a pretty dark shade, so anyone seeing me like this will know what caused this mess on my mouth.
The elevator’s still stopped, and Tyler’s still pressing himself to me like a blanket. I swallow, brush my index finger over my bottom lip, then apply the lipstick while looking at my reflection in the glossy elevator wall.
"What are you doing?" he asks, reaching for a loose strand of hair to tuck behind my ear. His fingers linger for a moment on my earring.
"Can’t you see?" I avoid looking at him. "Trying to cover up the traces of you."
"I thought we were past that phase," he husks out cockily.
I meet his gaze, but I have to tilt my head back a little to be able to face him head-on. That height—it’s always been a turn-on. The Medinas are a tall family. Being a few inches above almost everyone—including boys—in middle school really drove me nuts. And then Tyler moved in next door.
"I don’t know if you realize, but I did get a room to talk because I don’t want people to see us together," I tell him flatly.
"You said that already."
"And you’re not getting it, are you?"
Tyler takes my wrist with one hand and then attempts to pluck the lipstick from me with the other hand. I squeeze the tube, not willing to give it to him.
