“Oh.” I drop my hair and smooth down his shirt I’m wearing as a dress. “No problem. It, uh, probably wasn’t as cool as yachting, but…” I shrug, out of sorts, and try to covertly wipe my brow.
Apparently unconcerned by my odd behavior, Chase wraps me in his arms again while we begin our exit from the museum. His touch does more to reassure me than any words could.
Out on the street, he hails a cab.
“Where are we going?”
“Well, you took me to your happy place.” He opens the cab door and waits until I’ve slid in and over before ducking in after me and giving the cabby his address. “It’s only fair I take you to mine.”
EIGHTEEN
Bell
“What isit with us and elevators?” I groan, head thrown back while Chase kisses, sucks, and bites down the column of my neck.
“Elevators are naughty,” he manages between kisses. “Getting it up, going down.” His hand squeezes my breast. “Otis was a dirty fuck.”
I lift my leg to wrap around his waist. “Otis?”
The hand that’s not on my breast glides up the side of my leg, disappearing under the dress shirt of his I’m wearing. “Yeah. Otis.” His fingertips trace the edge of my panties along my ass cheek. “Ever notice the name Otis is stamped in every elevator?” He turns his head toward the doors and over to the row of floor buttons. Sure enough, OTIS is stamped above.
“Huh.”
“He invented the elevator safety break.” He slides his hand around and cups me over my panties. “To stop people in his elevators from going down too fast.” His kisses continue down between my breasts.
I groan when he nips at my cleavage. We’re back on track.
Everything’s back on track.
No more childhood stories. No more family drama. No more feelings.
Just sex.
Okay, so I’m not so coldhearted that I don’t feelsomethingfor Chase. Those feelings obviously led me to the museum today. But it’s a dangerous slope. Feelings beget more feelings. I’m going to focus on the feelings he’s stirring in my panties rather than in my chest.
I don’t want to wonder at Chase’s family dynamic or risk my job by defending him to his shareholder brother. Or unearth memories of my parents, long locked away.
The elevator doors ding, and like boxers heading into the ring, we both charge out, ready to take our latest elevator tryst to the bedroom. Hell, I’m so ready, the hardwood floor seems like a good option.
A beige missile leaps past me and detonates on Chase’s crotch.
Chase sucks air in some sort of weird guttural inhale, sinking to his knees.
Mike lands gracefully and circles around Chase, who’s still on his knees, bent at the waist, one hand cupping himself, the other bracing himself on the floor.
“Damn it, Mikey,” he manages to choke out. “This is the second time you’ve tried to break my dick.”
His words break me from my frozen shock. “Second time?” And then I’m laughing. Hard-to-breathe, tears-in-my-eyes laughter. “He’s… tried to… break your dick… before?” At his nod I fall forward, unable to stay upright while laughing so hard. My palms brace on my knees, and tears of laughter fall to the floor before I manage a few deep breaths.
A glance up shows Chase looking a little green, so I try harder to rein it in.
“Are you okay?” I ease down on my knees beside him, awkward in tall boots and a short dress. He leans toward me slightly, so I run my hand over his back in circles.
“No.” His voice is still strangled.
Poor Chase. A minute ago, he’d been well on his way to his happy place, only to be sidelined by a dive-bombing, claws out, hairless pussy.
The image replays in my mind—the wild meow, the blur of skin, the wide-eyed shock in Chase’s eyes, and the sudden, hard drop to the floor. Mikey and Chase. A giggle escapes, and I do my best to shut down the waves of laughter threatening to break free again.
