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And he did.
This time, I let him carry me down the steps.
Chapter 17
Jake
Chicago
“So, what exactlyis it that we do?” I quizzed Lucy. From the moment we had stepped foot inside, she pressed her back against the wall, looking left to right.
At first thought, her actions could easily have been mistaken for something sexual, and believe me, with the whisky running through my veins like a stampede, that’s where my mind went.
But that thought was extinguished when I heard her humming a familiar tune.
“Are you…is that theMission Impossibletheme?”
“Shhh,” she slurred slightly. Instead of one, she brought two fingers to her lips to drive her point home.
Looking around, there was nobody on the floor but us.
“The objective is to get from point A, which is here,” she gestured to our feet, “to point B. And it goes without saying that we do it super under-the-radar, ’cause you know, it’s Mission Impossible.” Lucy stood up straight, exuding pride for explaining the rules.
“Alright,” I went along, “but where is point B?”
She looked crestfallen at my inquiry.
“Right. We didn’t choose one, did we?” Her nose had an adorable little scrunch to it while the possibilities played out on her face like a storyboard. Finally, after a thirty-second pause, she asked if I had any suggestions.
I could think of one such room, but decided on something a little different.
“Remember how you said you wanted to fuck with E and Liam?” I steepled my fingers dramatically, allowing the implication of my words to settle.
“Ohmygod, yes!” Her eyes glazed over for a beat, no doubt concocting something crazy. “She’s on the seventh floor. Same as me.”
Her enthusiasm and giddiness were contagious and I found myself smiling—the kind that reached each ear and caused creases at each eye.
Taking her hand, I paused at the door to the stairwell. I wasn’t planning on taking them again, but her reaction would be worth the jest.
“Uh uhhhh.” She recoiled from the grip I had on her. “You know what really chaps my kickies? Fucking stairs.” Before I knew what she was doing, her hand had dropped from mine and she took off like a bat out of hell.
“Race you to the elevators!” she yelled over her shoulder. She made a noise and I couldn’t discern if it was a cackle or a hiccup. Either way, I followed after her, breaking into a light jog.
Thankfully we were alone on the way down. Lucy’s skin was flushed and dewy, while her eyes held a hell of a lot of mischief. I found myself stalking over to her.
She had situated herself in the corner, resting her elbows on the handrail.
Lucy wasn’t short but she wasn’t particularly tall either. I had several inches on her and from my vantage point it was easy to see the curve of each eyelash, the delicate shadow it left on her cheeks, and the deliberate breaths she was making.
I needed to see her and when my hand found her chin, tilting her face upward, the blue of her eyes was absolutely electric. If my body functioned on the thundering beat of my heart alone, then hers functioned equally with an unforeseen white-hot current.
The risk of getting burned from Lucy was worth it.
Testing my theory with a firm press of my lips, I in fact, did not die. But we were two live wires. When our mouths came together there was no spark, but the current coursing through her began to softly thrum between us.
It intensified; something that had been a steady hum could no longer be ignored. It was here, swirling around us, threatening to burst out of the confines of the elevator. A tornado of our own doing. Exhilarating. Charged. And unpredictable.
My hands came to her sides, resting on the handrail. In turn, Lucy continued to use it for stability, shifting from her elbows to her hands, propping herself up.
