FORBIDDEN HOURS; 10 Taboo Nights

Story One: Between Floors LENA  The elevator died like it had been waiting for me. One second the numbers were climbing sixteen, seventeen and the next the whole box lurched, groaned, and stopped so hard my heels slipped. The lights flickered once, twice, then settled into a thin yellow that made everything look warmer than it should. I was not alone. He had stepped in at the lobby without looking at me. Tall, dark suit. The kind of shoulders that made the jacket look like it was doing him a favor a watch that cost more than my rent. He had pressed eighteen the same time I did and then stood like the rest of the world was optional. Now the optional world was gone. Silence pressed in. The kind that makes you hear your own pulse in your throat. I reached for the panel. Every button stayed dead the emergency phone gave me a busy signal that felt like a joke. “Great,” I said to the metal wall. “Perfect way to end a perfect day.” His voice came from behind me, low and unused. “It’s after ten. Building’s mostly empty. Could be a while.” I turned. He was closer than I remembered. Not crowding me. Just… there, dark eyes. A mouth that looked like it knew how to please a woman and stay quiet. He had loosened his tie one inch and unbotten his shirt showing off his gorgeous chest, the sight did more damage than it should have. “You always this calm when you’re trapped?” I asked. “I’ve been trapped in worse places.” The way he said it made my stomach dip. Not fear. Something hotter and dumber. I looked at the ceiling like it might offer an escape hatch. It didn’t, the air already felt thicker. His cologne was clean and expensive and I hated that I could smell it from here. “I’m Lena,” I said, because standing in silence with a stranger in a box the size of a closet felt like a bad idea. “Cole.” Just Cole. No last name, no handshake. He leaned one shoulder against the wall and watched me like he had all night and no intention of wasting it on small talk. My phone had one bar and no signal. His didn’t either. We were officially nowhere. I sat on the floor because my feet hurt and because standing in four-inch heels while my pulse misbehaved felt like losing. The dress I had worn to the late meeting rode up when I sat. And I didn’t tug it down. His eyes flicked once and then away, like he had decided not to be that man. The decision lasted about forty seconds. “You always work this late?” he asked. “Only when I’m trying to impress people who will never remember my name.” A corner of his mouth moved. Not quite a smile. “They’ll remember.” Heat crawled up my neck. I looked at the closed doors instead of him. “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Talk like you already know me.” He was quiet for a long second. Then: “I don’t. That’s the point.” The elevator gave a small metallic sigh, like it agreed. Time stretched. I counted the scratches on the wall. I counted the times his gaze landed on my mouth and left again. The box was getting warmer. Or was I? My hair stuck to the back of my neck. I lifted it off my skin and his eyes followed the movement like it was the most interesting thing that had happened all day. “You’re engaged,” he said. I looked down the ring. Simple, honest. The kind you wear because you said yes when you should have said give me a year. “Yes.” “He waiting downstairs?” “He’s in another city. Conference.” Cole nodded once, like that information had a place to go. “And you?” I asked. “Wife? Girlfriend? Someone who will lose her mind if this thing never opens?” “No one who would call this a problem.” The words sat between us, heavy and clean. I should have looked away. I didn’t. He pushed off the wall and crossed the three steps it took to reach me. He didn’t sit just crouched, eye level. Close enough that I could see the faint scar through his left eyebrow and the way his throat moved when he swallowed. “Lena.” Just my name, soft like a test. “What?” “If this thing starts moving in the next five minutes, we pretend this never happened.” “And if it doesn’t?” His gaze dropped to my mouth and stayed there. “Then we stop pretending.” My breath left me in a small, traitorous sound. I could have told him I was a good girl. That I had a flight in the morning and a man who thought I was still the woman who said yes. I could have put my hand on his chest and pushed. I didn’t. The lights flickered again. This time they stayed dimmer. The emergency strip along the floor painted his face in gold and shadow, he looked like a man who had already decided and was only waiting for me to catch up. “You’re very sure of yourself,” I whispered. “I’m sure of the way you’ve been looking at my mouth since the doors closed.” I hated that he was right. I hated that my thighs had pressed together without permission I hated that the ring on my finger suddenly felt like a dare instead of a promise. He lifted one hand. Slow giving me time to stop him. I didn’t. His fingers brushed the inside of my wrist, right over the pulse that was giving me away. “Still want me to stay on my side of the box?” he asked. I should have said yes. Instead I said, “The camera’s dead, isn’t it?” His mouth almost smiled. “Has been since the power cut.” That was the moment the air changed. Not the temperature. The permission. He stood and offered his hand. I took it. He pulled me up like I weighed nothing and didn’t let go. We were chest to chest in a space that had never been meant for this my back hit the wall. His hand stayed on my waist, thumb moving once over the fabric like he was learning the shape of a decision. “Last chance,” he said against my hair. “ To back out and tell me to wait for maintenance.” I turned my face toward his throat. Breathed him in. Felt the jump of his pulse under my lips when I answered. “Maintenance can take all night.” His hand slid from my waist to the back of my neck. Not rough or gentle just perfect. He tipped my face up and looked at me like he was memorizing the exact second I stopped being someone else’s. Then he kissed me. It was not a polite first kiss. It was the kind that happens when two people have already done the math and the answer is now. His mouth was hot and sure. I made a sound I did not recognize his other hand found my hip and pulled until there was no air left between us. The ring caught on his shirt. I didn’t bother to take it off. I just kissed him harder, like the gold on my finger was part of the heat instead of the reason we should have stopped. When he broke the kiss we were both breathing like we had run. “Eighteen,” he said, voice rough. “We’re stuck between seventeen and eighteen.” “I know.” “Good.” His forehead rested against mine. “Because I’m going to need more than one floor for what I want to do to you.” The elevator stayed dead. And for the first time all night, I hoped it never moved.