Aftershocks. Nancy Warren
was, her body didn’t care. Her flesh and blood responded to him in a purely physical sense that had nothing to do with morals or ethics, elections or earthquakes.
Well, earthquakes maybe, in their crudest “the earth moved” definition.
“I want you so much,” he murmured against her neck.
Damn. Too soft for the tape recorder.
Her breathing shallow, she raised her head and spoke as clearly as she could. “What did you say?”
“I want you so much, Briana,” he repeated. “I want to make love with you.”
“Yes,” she said, not certain whether she meant yes as in Yes! I got it on tape, or Yes! He wants me, he wants me.
Patrick seemed to take it as Yes, she wants me. He went back to kissing her neck, which was fine, because she did want him. More than she ever remembered wanting anything.
He made it to the base of her throat, and she found herself arching up to give him easier access to her breasts.
His hands, so capable and strong, cupped her breasts with hot abandon, surprising a moan out of her.
As though impatient to reach bare skin—and he couldn’t be more impatient for it than she was—he plunged a hand into the vee of her blouse, then cursed in frustration.
“Buttons,” she cried, desperate to feel his hands on her. She’d have undone them herself, but her arms were supporting her and they trembled beneath her.
He made such clumsy work of her buttons that Briana realized he was shaking as badly as she was.
The tape, she recalled dimly. It would be impossible to register what he was doing on tape.
“Are you taking off my blouse?”
A low chuckle answered her. “I’m trying, but damn it, I’m out of practice.”
That blunt admission gave her pause. Of course, she knew he’d been a widower for three years, but surely…He was a man. He must have…
Anyway, none of that mattered. What mattered was getting him to incriminate himself on tape so she could do her buttons back up and be done with this unpleasant task of entrapping a man she’d grown to like.
Even if her judgment was suspect, she did like him. She wanted to get this over with. Record the incident. Get out of here alive. Give the tape to her uncle and leave town.
Playing this devious undercover game was no fun. She’d discovered within hours of meeting Patrick that she wasn’t cut out for entrapment. She liked plain dealing and honesty. He might be a lying, devious career-destroyer, but at this moment, so was she, no matter how she tried to justify her actions.
Mentally, she reviewed the tape. There’d be kissing sounds, heavy breathing, Patrick admitting he wanted her…
That would have to be enough. She couldn’t do this anymore.
She opened her mouth to stop him but at the same moment he managed to unsnap her bra. In the dark, her nipples tightened, then she gasped as his hot tongue slid across her aching flesh.
“Oh,” she cried, her entire body shuddering. “That feels so good.”
His tongue curled around one nipple and he sucked the tip of her breast right into his mouth. He was so greedy, so eager, and his obvious delight in her thrilled her more than any refined technique.
From one breast to the other he moved eagerly, as though he’d been in prison for years and had only now rediscovered women.
He was panting, she was panting. The tape must be moving into R-rated territory.
His hand was working its way under her skirt. She was supposed to stop him, she had to say…
“No.”
The word was a piteous groan, and Briana realized it hadn’t come from her.
“God, Briana, I’m sorry.” It was Patrick who’d spoken.
“No?” She felt stunned, rejected. “What do you mean, no?”
He stroked her hair, touched her cheek.
“I want to make love to you right now, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But—”
“No buts.” Her body burned for him, her flesh felt as though steam must be rising from it. They’d obviously denied the powerful attraction of each other’s pheromones for too long.
She kissed him, hard and deep, teasing his lips with her tongue, the sensations so much stronger in the dark.
“But I—”
A finger across his lips silenced him. “I believe in fate,” she told him. “Fate stuck us in this elevator and turned out the lights. What happens tomorrow doesn’t matter. Hell, Patrick, we almost didn’t have a tomorrow.”
“I know, but—”
“I don’t want to think about how long we’re going to be trapped here. I don’t want to think about how awful it would be to develop claustrophobia in the next ten minutes. The best way to fight boredom and fear is to occupy your mind.”
“You think?” Reluctant humor threaded his tone.
“I know.” She smiled in the dark, smug, knowing she’d won.
“I…You’re still a female employee.”
She loosened his tie. “So fire me.”
That surprised laughter out of him. She felt it rumble up his throat beneath her fingers. “Fire you? You’re phenomenal. Competent, smart, hardworking. Hell, why would I fire you?”
“So we can have sex. It’s temporary. You can rehire me whenever we get out of here.”
There was a long pause, and she could almost hear him thinking. She held her breath. She hadn’t been entirely joking about needing to take her mind off their current situation.
She wasn’t claustrophobic, but she knew that Patrick was keeping her thoughts and feelings more pleasantly engaged. As it was, the reality of being trapped in a warm black box tickled the edges of her mind. And that box was hanging from a cable that had sustained a major earthquake and some hefty aftershocks in the past month. Who knew how long it would hold?
No. She needed a distraction. And sex with Patrick was about the best damn distraction she could imagine.
“Briana?”
“Yes?”
“You’re fired.”
A great rush of pent-up breath left her chest, and the next second she wished she’d saved a little, for Patrick was kissing the life out of her.
Somehow she was on her back, the elevator tile hard beneath her spine, but as for the rest of her…oh my. Now that Patrick had let himself go, he was all over her.
He kissed her hungrily while his hands roamed everywhere. She heard a small tear and then the bounce of a plastic button on the tile.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice so husky with passion she barely recognized it.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, loving his eagerness, finding the clumsiness endearing. He was so gorgeous and confident it hadn’t occurred to her that his technique would be less than smooth.
Then his mouth found her breast again and she put all rational thought away.
“Oh, yes.” Her body arched beneath him.
His hand was warm, slightly leathery as it slid beneath her skirt and trailed up, up to where she was so very hot.
Even as he cupped her through her panties, she felt everything tighten, all those wonderfully concentrated sensation centers started tuning up ready to sing.
Her blouse was open, her