“It’s my elevator.” His words held both ownership and threat . . . and they seemed to be claiming more than the elevator.
Immediate tension mounted as she realized that it could be a long, long while before another employee tried to use this particular elevator. Attempting to quell her nerves, she said in a smooth voice that she would have been proud of if she hadn’t been scared shitless, “And I’d like out of it, please.”
“All right, no problem.” Even as he answered agreeably, he didn’t try to fulfill her request in any other way. All he did was lean against the wall not two feet away from her, crossing his arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles, as if they were going to be there for a while.
He made no move to do her bidding, and Maria tried to breathe evenly as she took in his jacked-up physique. He was wearing basketball shorts and a tight-fitting, sleeveless t-shirt, and tennis shoes that probably cost ten times what hers had. His biceps were massive, his calves held definition that was more than impressive, and he was no less intimidating dressed as he was now than when he wore a tailored suit and was sitting behind a desk. In fact, with his muscles on full display, she felt her heart skip a beat. Adding to her already stretched nerves was the fear she tried every day of her life to overcome. Claustrophobia.
She’d gotten stuck in a small tool shed at a house belonging to one of her mother’s friends when she’d been about six years old. The women had been catching up and hadn’t noticed she’d wandered off. She’d been missing for probably a good half hour when they eventually found her, dazed, dehydrated and traumatized at finding herself in a dark, locked shed that smelt musty, as if it didn’t contain enough oxygen. A frisson ran through her at the memory, still so vivid in her mind. Her life hadn’t been the same since, and even now, confined spaces were enough to make her heart skip a beat and perspiration break out all over. It was a minor miracle that she rode the elevator alone in the first place, it took everything she had, and she always made sure she carried her phone.
Now, with the conveyance at a complete standstill and Garrett Rule standing over her as if he had no intention of letting her out of the enclosed compartment any time soon, her insides were enduring a double dose of apprehension.
As she stayed in the back corner, resolutely refusing to tell him of her fear, he turned and put a shoulder to the wall, facing her completely. Her blood began pumping triple time, as he did nothing but lean against the wall and continue to stare at her.
She didn’t know what she was scared of, exactly. She was usually less afraid inside an elevator when another person was with her.
And she certainly wasn’t afraid of Garrett.
No freaking way. She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t. And she wasn’t attracted to him. She wasn’t. Sure, he had awesome good looks, and an awesome voice, but the son-of-a-bitch knew all of that. So what was there to be attracted to? She refused to be attracted to him.
So what was she afraid of here? She didn’t know exactly, but her heart rate was telling her she was terrified.
“It’s been a month,” he finally announced.
“A month?” How she managed to respond she hadn’t a single clue.
“Since I came to Florida,” he answered as if that explained it all.
“Yeah, so?” Okay, that’s good, Maria. Totally sounded confident. Bad-ass.
His face turned into lines of antagonism. “I’ve waited a goddamn month, Maria.”
For what? Jesus Christ, were her legs shaking? Where the hell had her damn confidence gone? “For what?”
He pushed away from the wall and took a step toward her. “What do you think?”
The butterflies in her stomach won out as her palms began sweating. “I don’t know—”
“Bullshit.” With the word still ringing in her ears, he kicked her gym bag away and reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. She was forced to let go of the rail, and in seconds her torso was flush against his as he held her caged in the corner, her wrist manacled in his hand and held to the wall.
She felt her eyes widen and her breath snag. He was leaning down, his face in hers, his body pressed to hers with a masculine force that introduced his erection to her stomach without preamble. She began to pant. “You can’t do this. It’s illegal—”
“Yeah, just like I couldn’t ask how old you are. That was illegal, wasn’t it? Just like I couldn’t ask you if you were married or had ever been married. But I finally broke down and asked you those questions, didn’t I? I asked you that and more. Didn’t I?”