I tilt my chin up.
Then I break.
I press my lips to his, soft and warm against mine. He tastes like mint and bad decisions and I can’t stop myself.
Bennett kisses me back, applying more pressure for one beat, two. My knees go soft, nervous energy thrumming through my system. His arms tighten around me and I’m aware—so aware—of his strong biceps flexing against mine, caging me in.
I reach up and curl my fingers into his shirt, the soft fabric a sharp contrast to the man underneath. He drags in a shaky breath, then pulls away slightly, eyes searching my face. Like he’s trying to read me, figure out what the hell that kiss meant.
I don’t know anything anymore. Don’t trust myself with him.
“Cameras…” I murmur, fresh panic racing through me.
Bennett shakes his head. “No cameras in the staff elevator, Sunshine. You’re safe.”
The last thing I’m feeling right now is safe.
Not with the whisper of Bennett Steele’s mouth still vibrating on my lips.
I need to get a freaking grip here.
“This never happened.” My control snaps back into place, sharp and formal.
Bennett steps back, hurt swimming in his ocean eyes for one brief second. Then he matches my vibe, going cold.
“You got it.” He jams the Start button and the elevator jolts back to life. Leaning back against the elevator wall, he shoves his hands deep into his jogger pockets. His jaw’s tight as he stares straight ahead and acts like I’m invisible.
My heart sinks, mind whirling.
I’m doing the right thing here.
The L lights up overhead and the doors slide open, bright beams of sunlight reflecting off the shiny linoleum floor of the arena lobby. Bennett strolls out of the elevator without so much as a backward glance.
I stare after him, my mind buzzing.
Somehow, things just got a lot more complicated—and I’m more confused than ever.
CHAPTER 16
BENNETT
Bishop’s standing guard outside the arena doors when I shove out into the daylight. He doesn’t speak, just hovers. Observing.
I hate his eyes constantly on me, that blank stare tracking my every move.
Fucking annoying.
I shoot him a two-finger salute and he nods. Probably clocking my aggravation, ready to report back to Tori.
Tori.
I have no right to be pissed at her. But I still am.
She did the professional thing, pulling away and holding a firm boundary.
Doesn’t matter.
It still stings.
