Would you have resuscitated me yourself if our coworkers hadn’t been there?
Bannister
There’s a defibrillator by the kitchenette.
Erin
Too far away.
Bannister
Then I’d need to restart your heart manually.
Erin
Well, you’re an artist. Get creative.
Before she could doubt herself or even think—no time, heart rate stalled, emergency action required—she pushed aside the blueprint and took another picture: legs extended across her bedspread, ankles crossed, the freckles around her navel peeking above her panties. Her fingertips rested against the lace over her hip. The edge of her thumb dipped beneath the mesh.
Erin
(And yes, I meant to send this to you.)
Then she waited, breathless, blood beating a fierce tattoo in her ears, until—
Swish.
Bannister
Erin, I know we agreed that messaging was fine, as long as we weren’t communicating as Bannister and Forster. But…
His ellipsis lingered.
Erin
Do you want me to stop, Ethan?
NotBannister.
Swish.
Bannister
No, I… but j-just give me a minute. I’m putting Bunsen out on the patio.
Ethan Meyer’s precision with words was as exacting as his numerical analysis. He didn’t message with a stylistic stammer.Ever. He must’ve switched from typing to audio transcription, which meant that his phone was detecting a break in his voice.
And he’d freed both hands, too.
Swish.
Bannister
(New Photo Message)
Illuminated in the beam from a lamp on a familiar industrial-style desk, he was sprawled across a couch with a pair of running shorts slung low on his hips, and…oh. Her thumb and index finger spread over the image. It expanded under her touch.Closer,closer, to a narrow trail of dark hair snaking down his stomach and under his waistband…
She hurriedly changed from typing to a voice-to-text input, too.
