Page 2 of Tempting Eden

The doors slid open before I could ponder any further. We’d won the elevator door bet. That was something, at least. He swept me into the enclosed space, and I got a waft of him again, rich and masculine.

“Floor?” he asked.

“Forty-two.” My real estate brokerage, Thornfield, took up the entire floor, abuzz with salespeople working on some of the largest real estate deals and buildings in the Southeast. Well, it wasn’tmycompany. I was just a senior vice president of sales, overseeing a number of the pricier projects.

I’d been away for a week, checking over an almost-finished development in midtown Atlanta. Nothing fancy, just some lofts for DINKs (dual income, no kids) near some of the livelier spots. They were coming along nicely, and with another small infusion of Gray’s money for higher end interior finishes, they’d be ready to take to market. I was poised to make a nice profit on them now that the real estate sector was back in full swing. The money would go a long way to make my life easier, if only in the short run.

The stranger hit the button for my floor, but didn’t hit any others. He must have been skipping his floor to take me to mine first. Was there no end to his Southern gentleman behavior? I smirked.

“I can take it from here.” I pushed my elbow into his ribs.

He only tightened his grip. “I’m going your way.”

His strength made some of the wires in my brain cross. I wanted to escape, but I also tingled in all the wrong places.

A few others hurried into the elevator before the doors closed, saying their good mornings to each other or giving friendly nods. I nodded back and watched them as they watched me in the reflective panels.

The whoosh of gravity pressing down made my ankle ache as the blood rushed into it. I put more weight on my good foot, scooting closer into the stranger at my side. His hand slid down a little lower on my waist, onto my hip so he could hold me even more tightly. His hand was large against me, spanning the fabric of my skirt and top with ease. His constant pressure was making me warm.

I glanced to the mirrored door again and saw he was watching me. His gaze was trained on my legs and leisurely made its way up my body until he caught my eye. He didn’t look away, even though I’d basically caught him eye-fucking me. He was certainly bold, whoever he was.

The ride slowed as it approached the twenty-fourth floor.

I hated relying on him, hated the fact that he easily held me in place, but something in me thrilled at his self-assured touch, all the same.

“I can make it from here.” I put more force into my voice than necessary.

“All right.” He smirked again and let his arm drop.

I winced when I put my foot to the ground. His warmth was gone, and goose bumps rose along my skin. I wanted him back. I didn’t have a plan for making it the rest of the way to my office. He still held my binder and ruined shoe under his other arm. My coffee was long since lost, the delicious contents feeding the treacherous grate outside instead of my caffeine addiction.

“You sure you can make it by yourself?” That. Fucking. Smirk.

The elevator stopped, and three men stepped off, leaving one more passenger and floor before mine.

“Yes.”

The elevator pinged again. The last passenger got out, leaving me alone with the stranger as we finished the ride to the top.

He continued studying me in the mirror. I felt my cheeks pink as he watched me, his silence embarrassing me. Well, embarrassing wasn’t the right word. His silence was heavy, not the comfortable, affable sort that was to be expected on elevators.

“You missed your floor.” I gave him my ugliest glare. I needed something to break the quiet between us that seemed to double every second, larger and larger.

“I haven’t.”

The elevator stopped at the top, Thornfield’s domain.

“But this ismyfloor.” It sounded stupid when I said it, like I was a child with a toy and I refused to share.

He remained silent and offered his arm. I ignored it. Fuck him.

I took a step and struggled to keep my cry of pain in my throat. He looped his arm around my waist and helped me into the lobby. He didn’t ask permission, just used his strength to reinforce my weakness. I hated it and basked in it all at once.

Sasha rose from the receptionist desk, hands going to her face in an over-dramatic gesture. Her nails were done in vivid red, with the pinkie sporting some intricate design, complete with glittering crystals. “What happened?”

“The grate got me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I hate that damn thing. It’s ruined more shoes of mine than I care to mention.” Sasha picked up her phone’s handset and punched a button. “Mr. Fairfax, you’re needed up front.”

---