Page 153 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
He tilts his head, looking at me with what appears to be genuine confusion. “You don’t think you’re brave?” he asks.
Laughing, I say, “I get flustered being trapped in an elevator with a guy. Imagine me trying to find my way around Ethiopia or Madagascar.” I shake my head. “No, if I were brave I would have—” but I’m not even brave enough to say the words. Instead I take another swallow of wine while I finish the sentence in my head.
Would have let you make a move on me. Would have touched you. Would have kissed you.
“Would have what?” he asks.
I shake my head and stand, feeling the need to move even if it’s only a few steps away. “What about you?” I ask, shifting the focus away from me. “If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”
He runs his thumb around the ridge of the wine bottle as he considers the question. “Honestly?” he asks.
The corners of my lips tug into a smile. “Only fair—I was honest with you.”
He stands and takes a step toward me. “You sure?” he asks. And it’s like the air in the room has changed. Grown thicker. Electrified. The hairs along my arms stand on end, every nerve jumping to attention.
I swallow and nod my head.
“I’d do this.” His fingers twitch, catching the hem of the shirt drifting around my thighs. He tugs gently, pulling me closer. The material stretches tight against my back and I step forward, within his reach.
He looks at me, his eyes searching—asking the question. Giving me the chance to say no, to pull away.
I lean forward, bringing myself closer. I don’t know how to ask for what I want. I’m not even sure what it is that I want.
Be brave, I tell myself. And so I move first, bringing my hands up, pressing them against his bare chest. His skin burns, the muscles jumping under my touch. His heartbeat soars, pounding furiously. He closes his eyes, lets out a long, low breath, and clenches his teeth. But he doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t press me. He just lets me explore.
I trace the hard edge of his pecs, pressing my palm flat against his sternum and pushing down, down, across the ridges of his abdomen and lower still until I curl the tips of my fingers in the waistband of his pants.
His own fingers have twisted in the hem of my shirt, tangling it tighter and pulling me forward so that my thighs press against his. Even with my heels on, he’s taller than I am and I find myself facing the hollow at the base of his throat. I watch the way his pulse flutters, scurrying up the long column of his throat.
Before I even think about it, before I even know what I’m doing, I lean forward and my tongue darts out, tasting him at the point where his collarbones collide. His palms press against the sides of my hips, fingertips digging against me, but not so insistent that I can’t step away if I choose.
“MacKenzie,” he whispers, breath hot against my temple. And it’s in the way that he says it that I understand what he’s asking: that I’m sure about this. That I understand where this is leading. His lips touch gently against the edge of my hairline and I moan, soft and low.
One of his hands dips under the edge of the shirt, trailing up the outside curve of my thigh, circling around to cup my hip. When he realizes that I’m wearing nothing underneath, he groans, head falling back against the elevator wall.
“MacKenzie,” he whispers again. And this time it sounds more like a plea. But what he doesn’t understand is that the sound of my name on his lips is the call of a siren. I trace a hand up across his chest, trailing along his neck until I’m gripping the back of his head.
I pull him down until our eyes meet, our mouths a breath apart. “Yes,” I tell him. Wanting to make sure he understands. There’s a heartbeat or maybe more while he waits for me to change my mind. Waits to make sure what I’m saying is true.
And when I don’t take it back, when I strain ever so slightly against him, he growls low in his throat. With a shudder, his hands take possession, one claiming my back, the other plunging into my hair. He pushes me across the elevator until I’m pressed against the mirrored wall, surrounded by him.
For the last time he hesitates, lips so close against mine I can practically taste him. I don’t wait for him to make the move. I surge, up and against him, and the sudden movement catches him momentarily off guard. Just enough for me to taste him fully.
Then he devours me. I’ve had every sense trained on him so acutely that to have him all at once like this overwhelms me in a rush of sensation. “MacKenzie,” he murmurs, nipping at my ear before trailing kisses down my neck.
“Yes,” I tell him again, arching off the wall, tangling my legs with his. It’s heat and power, passion and tenderness. Everything hot and furious as he cups a hand under my thigh, lifting my leg until it’s wrapped around his hip. I groan, feeling him that much closer. Feeling him pressed against me, straining.
My hands have free rein over his naked torso, gripping at the muscles, pulling him closer, feeling the surge and strength of him under my touch. Our breaths turn harsh, loud and demanding. And just as his fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, just as he’s about to part it, exposing me completely, the red phone rings.
We both pause, gasping. His head tucked against the crook of my neck, my hands wrapped around his shoulders. The look he gives me is strained, unfocused but then he closes his eyes. Shudders. And steps away.
He yanks the phone free. “What?” he growls. He listens, frowning. Then lets out a strained sigh and presses his fingers against his eyes. He hangs up slowly, staring at the phone for a moment.
Doubts cascade into my head. He regrets it. This was wrong. I feel the way the shirt brushes against my exposed skin. I grasp at the edges of it, pulling it tight.
“MacKenzie.” I can already hear the apology in the way he says my name and I hate it. It makes me feel like a mistake. God, and to think that if the phone hadn’t rung I’d have kept going.
I turn my head, squeeze my eyes tight. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. It isn’t who I am. Who I’ve ever been.
