heard it. In the next second. Between her first step toward the garage elevator and the second. She heard the sound she’d been waiting for, the sound she’d been hoping to hear.
A low rumbling purr, a growl that grew louder as the panther-sleek car approached. Dark-as-night black paint. Tinted windows. Shiny wheels and two cylindrical exhaust pipes to match. She remained still, standing where she’d stopped in her tracks seconds before, her hand wrapped in a death grip around the strap of her backpack draped over her shoulder.
The car crept by, a slow-rolling machine built for power, for pursuit, an intimidating shadow stalking every move she made. Foreboding settled into Erin’s belly like a heavy weight, grounding her feet to the hard concrete floor. Her gaze remained on the driver’s window from which only her reflection stared back.
But she didn’t need to see his face to feel the effects of the look she knew he’d directed her way. The electricity remained, the sizzling, popping burn of her overheated imagination and her body that had yet to shake off last night’s erotic dreams.
With practiced ease, the car slipped into the parking space at the end of the row. Erin hesitated for several seconds, knowing this was it. The chance she’d been waiting for. The chance she had to take. As soon as he killed the engine and the rumble died and the echo of all that horsepower stopped ringing in her ears, she headed for the elevator.
Once inside, she waited. Her back to the side wall of the elevator car, she waited. Holding down the door-open button, her heart hammering hard on her ribs, she waited. Listening for the approaching footsteps, heavy in the black boots he wore.
Or so she’d assumed they must be.
But she’d assumed wrong because he silently rounded the corner and moved into the elevator’s tiny square of remaining space before she had a chance to whip her hand away from the panel. He caught her waiting there. And the only thing she could do in response was smile.
So she smiled, and then she looked down because she’d lost her voice. At least she’d lost the ability to say anything intelligent or coherent. And she didn’t think telling him to strip to his skivvies was any way to break the ice—even if she wanted more than her next breath to see him naked.
She didn’t know enough about men’s clothing to guess his size but his boots were absolutely huge. Deep indigo jeans, nearer black than blue, bunched over the boots around his ankles. And, oh, but his legs were long.
Erin’s gaze made a slow climb, lingering for what was probably too long for prudence yet not long enough for prurience on his sweetly thick thighs and the equally compelling bulge behind the crotch of his button-down jeans. If only he’d turn around and complete the picture by giving her a nice close-up view of his backside.
But there was no time.
In seconds they’d reach the ground floor. She had to make her move and make it now. A deep breath did nothing to calm her nerves, only served in fact to rattle her further. She tried again, producing a smile she hoped showed at least a small degree of the sultry sensations giving birth to tremors that ran down her spine to the soles of both feet.
But then the bell dinged and the door opened and she had no choice but to exit and hope he followed. He did. He followed even when she bypassed the main building’s elevator and headed for the mailroom in the basement. She felt him behind her like the ethereal kiss of a shadow, a warmth with no substance but that which her wanton imagination bestowed.
A rich hunger stirred to life in her belly, accompanied by the twisting and turning of nerves knotting into a near painful anticipation. The short, dimly lit hallway echoed with their alternating footsteps, hers almost louder than his. The air inside sizzled with blue white waves of electrical pulses. The scent of imminent danger burned with a pungent intensity and caused
A low rumbling purr, a growl that grew louder as the panther-sleek car approached. Dark-as-night black paint. Tinted windows. Shiny wheels and two cylindrical exhaust pipes to match. She remained still, standing where she’d stopped in her tracks seconds before, her hand wrapped in a death grip around the strap of her backpack draped over her shoulder.
The car crept by, a slow-rolling machine built for power, for pursuit, an intimidating shadow stalking every move she made. Foreboding settled into Erin’s belly like a heavy weight, grounding her feet to the hard concrete floor. Her gaze remained on the driver’s window from which only her reflection stared back.
But she didn’t need to see his face to feel the effects of the look she knew he’d directed her way. The electricity remained, the sizzling, popping burn of her overheated imagination and her body that had yet to shake off last night’s erotic dreams.
With practiced ease, the car slipped into the parking space at the end of the row. Erin hesitated for several seconds, knowing this was it. The chance she’d been waiting for. The chance she had to take. As soon as he killed the engine and the rumble died and the echo of all that horsepower stopped ringing in her ears, she headed for the elevator.
Once inside, she waited. Her back to the side wall of the elevator car, she waited. Holding down the door-open button, her heart hammering hard on her ribs, she waited. Listening for the approaching footsteps, heavy in the black boots he wore.
Or so she’d assumed they must be.
But she’d assumed wrong because he silently rounded the corner and moved into the elevator’s tiny square of remaining space before she had a chance to whip her hand away from the panel. He caught her waiting there. And the only thing she could do in response was smile.
So she smiled, and then she looked down because she’d lost her voice. At least she’d lost the ability to say anything intelligent or coherent. And she didn’t think telling him to strip to his skivvies was any way to break the ice—even if she wanted more than her next breath to see him naked.
She didn’t know enough about men’s clothing to guess his size but his boots were absolutely huge. Deep indigo jeans, nearer black than blue, bunched over the boots around his ankles. And, oh, but his legs were long.
Erin’s gaze made a slow climb, lingering for what was probably too long for prudence yet not long enough for prurience on his sweetly thick thighs and the equally compelling bulge behind the crotch of his button-down jeans. If only he’d turn around and complete the picture by giving her a nice close-up view of his backside.
But there was no time.
In seconds they’d reach the ground floor. She had to make her move and make it now. A deep breath did nothing to calm her nerves, only served in fact to rattle her further. She tried again, producing a smile she hoped showed at least a small degree of the sultry sensations giving birth to tremors that ran down her spine to the soles of both feet.
But then the bell dinged and the door opened and she had no choice but to exit and hope he followed. He did. He followed even when she bypassed the main building’s elevator and headed for the mailroom in the basement. She felt him behind her like the ethereal kiss of a shadow, a warmth with no substance but that which her wanton imagination bestowed.
A rich hunger stirred to life in her belly, accompanied by the twisting and turning of nerves knotting into a near painful anticipation. The short, dimly lit hallway echoed with their alternating footsteps, hers almost louder than his. The air inside sizzled with blue white waves of electrical pulses. The scent of imminent danger burned with a pungent intensity and caused
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