The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss, sealing us in a sudden, intimate silence broken only by the hum of machinery and the frantic rhythm of my own heart. His hands, warm and demanding, found the curve of my waist, pulling me flush agat the hard line of his body before I could utter a single word of protest. The scent of his cologne, something dark and spicy, filled the small space, mingling with the faint, clean smell of rain still clinging to his coat. My breath hitched as his lips traced a burning path from my jaw down the sensitive column of my throat, each touch sending a jolt of pure electricity straight to my core. I could feel the fine wool of his trousers rough agat my bare thighs where my dress had ridden up, a delicious friction that promised so much more. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back to grant him deeper access, his tongue a bold, wet promise agat my skin. The world outside this metal box ceased to exist, the distant chime of floors passing a meaningless countdown to a destination we had already reached. A low groan rumbled in his chest, vibrating through me as his palm slid lower, cupping me with a possessive certainty that made my knees tremble. In that suspended moment, every nerve ending was alive, screaming for the exquisite pressure and release only his body could provide.
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