At any other time, I’d be inwardly cheering that my crush was standing in front of me. But right now … although if he’s out here, then he wasn’t in there.
“Hey, Ty. You weren’t in …” I suppose I can’t ask if he was in the conference room, so I try an alternate route. “Where were you?” That was issued with a bite that doesn’t even sound like me. I need to calm the hell down.
“Running an errand.” His delivery is buoyant, like usual. He’s no longer the one tortured, it seems. “Cash and Maddox are on their way up.”
I’m not sure why he added that. Could be simply because ofAxel and Ryker’s warning. Or maybe Ty did truly feel something between us this morning.
“Okay,” I utter. It comes out froggy, like I croaked the word, so I clear the building mucus and swiftly recover. “I see you’ve sobered up.”
He chuckles as though that observation is absurd. “It’s two in the afternoon, Rena. Of course I’m sober.”
Great. More falsehood. Or outright gaslighting.
“Right. I imagined the whole thing.” My arms fling through the air, flailing everywhere with a mind of their own. “You didn’t corner me in the high-rollers hallway, drunk and intense and looking like you wanted … Everything is completely normal, or nothing is …”
Oxygen is evidently in short supply. I grab my throat. It’s closing. Yeah. It’s safe to assume I’m in full-blown panic mode.
That blasé facade he was wearing melts away, and the fervent depth of those cognac eyes returns.
He pushes me against the wall, his long, lean fingers curling onto my hip while his other hand pries mine off my throat. “Breathe for me. You’re okay. Keep your eyes on me and just breathe.”
His knuckles sweep tenderly across my cheekbone as he starts an exaggerated inhale, urging me to follow his breathing pattern, to allow him to calm me down. I mimic his gestures, but everything about this encounter has my body revving up.
“What happened?” he finally rasps, apparently pleased with my air intake.
He smells like a dimly lit cigar lounge—one with vintage books and aged spirits.
Suede and spices and secret desires.
That aside, his query is both sweet and demanding. And that push he gave me was anything but gentle—a hint of salacious promise. If I didn’t feel lightheaded from both his intoxicating scent and my newfound lethal revelation, that would all be cause for zealous swooning.
Instead of answering, I ask what I’ve been wondering sinceIvy voiced that ridiculous mnemonic device. My wheezing breaths stagger with each word. “If … I ever … need you—”
“Yes. Always. For anything.” No hesitation. He didn’t even wait for me to finish. Brave. I could’ve ended that sentence in some horrifying ways.
Or naughty ones.
Yep. When my head clears, I will undoubtedly be cataloging erotic conclusions to my question to throw at him someday. He did sayanything.
But right now, we’re suspended in this peculiar stance—touching and panting and soaking each other in. He brushes some wispy strands off my forehead. I can feel the beads of sweat dotting my hairline, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His breath is cool. Soothing.
I wish I could bask in the goose bumps freckling my skin, the rise and fall of his taut chest, and the energized current crackling between us.
He feels it too.
A shiver soars up my spine when he finally breaks the pivotal silence.
“There you go,” he rasps, his eyes lingering on my lips. “In and out.”
In and out?My brows furrow in confusion, but then it hits me.Ahh. He’s commending my inhale-exhale technique. My head is in all the wrong places. It always is with Ty.
I nod and swallow and lick my dry lips, spellbound when his gaze glues to the movement. “Thanks,” I whisper.
His thumb skates back and forth over the bare strip of skin above my pants in such an intimate buffing that my flesh chills and heats simultaneously beneath his tender touch. “You’re pale. Scared. Talk to me.”
Unfortunately, his observation harmonizes with the ding of the elevator, which provokes an immediate shift in his demeanor.
“I have to go,” he rushes out, and in a flash, he disappears into the penthouse.
