Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(66)

Chloe blushes and looks away when her eyes meet mine. She whistles, and I laugh.

I eat up the distance between us. “Are you nervous?”

“Honestly?”

I nod my head.

“Yeah, the way you’re looking at me scares me.” She swallows and darts her eyes toward the old-school dial above the elevator door indicating we are only on floor ten out of thirty.

I brush my knuckles across her cheekbone. “Why?”

“Because whatever you’re thinking about can’t be good.”

“But it can sure be fun.”

I can’t wait to get her into our suite because I plan on collecting my win from the race with Noah. Her cheeks flush after I press a soft kiss against her mouth. She sucks in a breath, and I grin.

A loud, screeching sound grates against my ears. I wrap my arms around Chloe as the elevator drops. My stomach matches the sudden descent of the car. The elevator shakes as it falls, the screeching noise reminding me of nails on a chalkboard. Chloe’s scream makes my ears ring in protest.

The car stops with a yank, as if it was tugged taught by a cord. I stumble but catch us before we fall over.

Chloe clutches onto me as the elevator makes one last grinding sound. “Oh my God.” She presses her head into my chest.

Lights flicker before going out. We both breathe heavy, the sounds of our inhales and exhales matching one another. Pitch darkness surrounds us. I lay my chin on top of Chloe’s head, regulating my breathing.

“Did we almost die?” she rasps.

“No. Of course not. Elevators have safety mechanisms for situations like this. Especially in old buildings like this.” I don’t have the first clue about elevator mechanics, but something about her voice tells me to pretend it’s all okay.

The speaker box crackles to life as someone speaks Italian to us. I release Chloe and walk up to the electrical panel.

“Aiuto.” It’s one of the few words I can muster up as I press the call button.

The person rattles on, saying things I don’t understand. The voice disappears as they say something I assume is along the lines of help is coming. I check my phone for service, but the lack of bars makes me curse.

“How long do you think we will be stuck in here?” Chloe’s voice doesn’t carry its usual assuredness. It sounds small and weak, which concerns me.

“I don’t know. Could be an hour or more probably? It depends on if we are stuck between floors.”

“I can’t decide if I feel like throwing up or crying.” The tapping of her heel against the floor gives away her agitation.

I’m not sure if the rush of adrenaline or gratitude for being okay has me laughing up to the roof of the small car. “While I’d hate for you to cry, please don’t throw up in here. That would make a bad situation way worse.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“How? We almost died!”

I walk up to her and press my body into hers, trapping her in a corner. My hand has a mind of its own, wrapping strands of Chloe’s hair around my fingers. “But we didn’t.”

“That’s so not reassuring.” Her voice wavers. “Is now the time to reveal to you how I don’t like tight, dark spaces?”

“Shit. Are you claustrophobic?”

“Umm.”

Fuck. Her breathing quickens. I pluck my phone out of my pocket and use the flashlight. She winces at the sudden brightness. I bend over and place the phone on the floor, illuminating the space enough to make out her shadow.

“Is that better?”

“A little bit.” Her voice hits a new high pitch.

Okay, so not better. Think, Santiago.

Everything clicks into place. I use the handle behind Chloe to kneel. The movement is anything but steady and fluid, but the limited lighting conceals my struggle.

Chloe’s hand freezes on my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Well seeing as how I can barely see in the first place... Did you drop something?”

Her reaction has me chuckling. “No.”

“Then why are you kneeling on the floor?”

“Take a guess.”

“Now’s not the time for games.” Her voice cracks. It’s obvious she’s about to flip out at any second.

“Why would I play when I already won?” I run my fingers down her dress before lifting the hem.

“Oh, God.” Chloe’s panicky voice morphs into breathless pants.

“Not even He can save you from me.” I press a kiss against her silk-covered center. The material blocks me, but Chloe gets my message.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.”

I chuckle under my breath. “Jump onto the handlebar and hold on to the hem of your dress.”

“What about the magic word?”

“Orgasm?”

She laughs up to the ceiling. “No.”

“Cock.”

“Please.”

“I knew you could beg if you really put your mind to it.” I trace a finger across the damp material covering the place I desperately want to taste.

“Bastard.”

“I prefer bastard who’s about to make you come, but we’ll get you there eventually.”