“Fourth? Have you seen her? Did she open up a wormhole in our building?”
“Yes. No, and I have no idea.” I reach up to touch his hair again. “Did I know you were this curly?”
“I try to keep it under control.” He tries to cover his head with his hands and I whack them gently away.
“I like it like this. It’s so soft.” I bite my lip, tugging gently on one ringlet before letting it bounce back into place. “Fun.”
“Ha ha. Cut it out.”
But he leans into my touch instead of pulling away. I love the way he does that. It makes me want to touch him more.
“Elliot?”
“Hmm?”
“We’re not moving.”
I drop my hand and look up at the numbers above the door. They’re stuck between four and five, and the lights on the ceiling are flickering. “I was kidding about the wormhole.”
Joey is staring at the ceiling. “Holy shit. Martha?”
“Who?”
He pats my chest soothingly. “My old elevator might be haunting me. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“How drunk are you?”
“I’m fine. But we need to call for—”
“You guys still alive in there?”
“Shit.” Joey jumps in surprise, making me snicker.
It’s Ms. Gordon. “Still alive. But we’re stuck.”
“Had a feeling. Surge protector on four spiked again. It’s resetting now. You’ll be good as new in a few minutes.”
Again? “I don’t remember this happening before.”
“Only once or twice, usually between the hours of three and four. George was fine with it, and he was the only other person using the elevator until now so… Yeah, okay, please hold or whatever.”
Joey is glaring in the direction the voice came from. “Please hold or whatever? Is she kidding?”
I turn him around and pull him into my arms with a chuckle. “Relax, man. You’re only trapped in a floating metal box with your neighbor. No big deal.”
Joey turns his glare on me. “You suck.”
The lights go out.
“And the universe hates me.”
I nuzzle his temple before I can stop myself. “Why do you say that?”
I feel his hands press against my shoulders as if to hold me back. “Because you’re drunk, Elliot. An affectionate drunk, based on the hugging. But this isn’t a seven-minutes-in-heaven scenario. Things still count in the dark, and I know you don’t really want to do this.”
“You’re sure?” I grab his ass and drag him against me until I feel his erection against mine again. Fuck, it’s better than I remembered. “I’m not that drunk, and I’ve never kissed anyone in a closet before. That’s the game, right?”
“That’s my life,” he mutters. “All closet, all the time. You should stop.”
“I should stop. You don’t think I want it. I do, by the way. I’ve been trying to tell you all night, but what do you want, Joey? Why aren’t you putting any muscle into pushing me away after how rough I was with you the other night? Why is your cock so hard?”
He stops pushing. “All night? Were you trying to tell me telepathically? Because I wasn’t getting any damn messages.”
“We didn’t get the chance to finish our conversation on the honesty train. Are you avoiding my questions now? Why aren’t you calling for help or telling me to go to hell? Did you like it when I lost control and pinned you to the wall?”
“Yes, but—”
“Yes.” I didn’t imagine it. “You said yes.”
“Elliot, what are you doing?”
“Thinking about shaking your hand,” I growl before covering his mouth with mine. I feel a power surge of my own when he registers my words and melts against me, his lips offering no resistance for my tongue.
Need to taste him.
I’m so hard I ache. It’s as if we’re picking up right where we left off, only I’m hungrier than before. I want more.
He knocks off my cap to get at my hair and I turn with him in my arms, backing him into the corner of the elevator. I let him feel me heavy against him in the dark, pressed together from shoulder to thigh as I make a meal out of his mouth.
Careful.
I can’t lose control again. I have to give some back to him, give him a chance to breathe, but all I want to do is fuck. His mouth. His hand. His ass. I pump my hips so my cock slides against his and he mumbles something unintelligible into my mouth.
“Unnnnng.”
I lift my lips enough to pant, “What are you saying? What do you need?”
“Nothing worth repeating unless you’re a werewolf.” When I rock into him again, he moans. “Is that a baseball bat in your pocket? I’m asking for a friend.”
I lower my forehead to his shoulder, shaking with repressed laughter. I can’t keep track of what I’m feeling. Tenderness and humor one second, animalistic heat the next. This man is making me crazy. “Want to find out?”
“Huh?”
I undo my jeans swiftly, grimacing with relief when I pull my cock out the tight confines. I should have worn briefs, since I can still feel the mark the zipper left behind. I take his hand and close his fingers around my shaft, hissing out a curse at the contact.