roughness against her sensitive skin.
She got the buttons out of the way and parted his shirt, running her hands over the strong muscular planes of his stomach, the bulge of his pecs, lightly fuzzed with hair.
She pulled him to her, rubbing against him like a cat against a favorite couch. He was fuzzy, warm, strong and so very alive.
His fingers slipped inside her panties and she jerked her hips up against him, begging wordlessly and shamelessly to be touched.
As his fingers played over her, she began to sigh, her breath coming in panting gasps.
“I want you inside me,” she cried.
His fingers slowed and he kissed her softly. “I don’t have anything with me.”
“Hmm?” she murmured, feeling slightly muzzy.
“Protection. Condoms. I don’t—”
“Oh. Right.” She was on the pill, but still, a condom was sensible. That’s why she always carried a few. “I think I have some in my purse.” Once again she dug around in her bag.
Briana wasn’t a promiscuous woman, but she believed in being prepared. She had a discreet little zip-up bag in blue Chinese silk in there somewhere.
Trouble was, a woman as prepared as she was tended to have a lot of other junk filling her bag, as well. Cell phone…she paused with her hand on it. She could at least try to phone out, maybe get them rescued sooner. But then she’d miss her chance to make love with Patrick, and right now her body’s urges were overpowering her common sense ten to one.
She dug deeper, fingertips searching for the touch of silk. She felt the tape recorder. Once again her hand stilled. Oh, lord. She’d forgotten all about the tape. She bit her lip in the dark. She should turn it off. After all, Patrick had fired her temporarily so they could avoid any hint of scandal.
But…
She’d think about that later. She could always erase the tape.
She kept digging, feeling Patrick’s breath on her belly, his hands roving with growing confidence, warm and sure as they drove her slowly, but inevitably higher.
He put his mouth on her nipple and she drew in a sharp breath. Longing rippled through her. She couldn’t hang on much longer.
Silk. Purse. There it was, right at the bottom. She pulled it out, along with a travel pack of tissues, and handed it to him.
She heard the zip as he opened the silk pouch. Then she heard the rustle of plastic tearing.
“What the—”
“What is it?” Briana asked.
“I know I’m out of practice, but have condoms changed?” He sounded not only puzzled but mildly grossed out.
“What are you—”
He shoved the small package in her hand and she felt inside. At first she registered only confusion as her fingers touched something soft, wet and cold. Then the spring-fresh scent hit her and she giggled. “That’s not a condom. It’s a travel wipe.”
A pause. Even in the dark she felt him staring at her.
“You’re kidding me.”
She stifled another giggle. He sounded amazed and put out at the same time. “I keep them in the same bag. I like to be prepared.”
“You got cigarettes and brandy in there for afterward?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” she teased, digging in to the silk pouch and identifying a packet that definitely contained a condom. “Here.”
This time the ripping sound was much slower, and she could tell he was examining the condom before withdrawing it from its package.
He must have been satisfied, for she felt a movement beside her that suggested he was putting it on.
It was so dark, and he felt so good, she wouldn’t think about tomorrow—or even tonight, after they were rescued.
There was only now. Her body yearned for him, open and wanting, their isolation only increasing the sense of intimacy and mystery.
Because there was no light, she learned his body by touch, as he learned hers.
Darkness, she discovered, was a potent aphrodisiac.
CHAPTER THREE
PATRICK KNEW that as long as he lived, he’d never forget this night.
The dream that had haunted him for two months since Briana walked into his office was turning into a reality. She was so warm and soft, womanly and exciting, so exactly as he’d imagined.
She smelled like fresh rain, felt like soft velvet, and her skin tasted like warm, willing woman. With a rush of potent longing he wanted to taste all of her. But right at this moment he needed to bury himself deep inside her body more than he needed to breathe.
And she was begging him to do exactly that.
“Please…” Her voice was trembling with excitement. “Come inside me. I can’t wait any longer.”
“Whatever the lady wants,” he said softly, settling between her thighs.
He kissed her deeply. He wanted her to know what this meant to him, what she meant to him.
“Briana, I—”
“Now, please.” She grasped his shaft and placed him at the hot slick entrance to her body.
Raw need took hold of him and he thrust hard and deep into heaven.
Her wordless cry of pleasure filled his ears, her warmth surrounded him, her scent delighted him as he thrust, wishing he could prolong this sensual buildup forever, knowing he’d be done in an embarrassingly short time.
It had been so long.
As her body arched to meet him, as she thrashed mindlessly against him, he slipped a hand between their bodies and touched her. The timbre of her cries changed, becoming deeper, more guttural. Knowing she was close, he let himself go a little more, riding her hard, loving the way she hooked her legs around him and stayed with him all the way.
He felt the moment she surrendered, felt her body clench around his shaft, and he lost his own control, feeling the surge of powerful pleasure as he emptied himself into her.
Then he collapsed, damp and spent against her, and she wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair.
Finally, he thought dimly, after two months of torment. Finally.
He kissed her softly, thinking he’d never ride this elevator again without remembering….
Along with an awkwardness that his knees felt bruised from rubbing on the hard floor of the elevator came a reminder of his responsibilities. His first thought was for his kids. Had they been scared? He wished he’d been there when the ground started to shake. At least he had a reliable housekeeper. Then he turned his mind to the emergency crews. What was going on in his city while he was stuck in this dangling box?
PATRICK GLANCED at his watch. Even in the dark, Briana knew what he was doing. She could see the pale green numbers glowing in the dark. Did he want to be rid of her already?
An hour or so ago, when they’d rebuttoned themselves, he’d tried the emergency phone installed in the elevator, but it wasn’t working. He’d cursed, frustration coming off him in waves, and she’d thought to herself, Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.
Since then, they’d sat side by side on the hard floor. He’d become fidgety and morose. He checked his watch again. She felt his impatience, heard it echo around in the dark elevator as his feet tapped the floor.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Hmm?” For the third time he turned his wrist to