Chapter 11 #3
Sloane stared at her, incredulous. “Remind me never to get on one of these with you again. The elevator overlords have cursed you.”
Reese grinned. “No. They just like me.”
“That cannot be your answer to everything,” Sloane said, but a smile tugged at her mouth.
Reese slid a little closer. Not enough to crowd, just enough to be unmistakable. “I think you find it endearing. I’m hoping you find all of me that way.”
“I don’t think it matters if I did. Your confidence knows no limits.”
“Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Reese said softly. “Because I care very much what the great Sloane Foster thinks. And,” she added, “I also care what you think.”
Sloane went quiet. The uneven lighting cast shadows across her face, softening some features, sharpening others, revealing nothing.
“It’s interesting,” she said finally, voice low, “that you differentiate the two. I’m not sure most people do.”
“I’m sure there’s overlap,” Reese said, her knee brushing Sloane’s lightly. “But yeah, there’s a difference.”
Sloane’s gaze flicked down at the quick, unmistakable contact. She didn’t move away. In fact, she shifted almost imperceptibly closer, as if pulled by something she wasn’t ready to name.
The quiet in the elevator changed. It tightened. Thickened. Reese felt it settle on her shoulders, warm and heavy and full of possibility.
“You’re confusing,” Sloane said finally. Her voice was soft enough that Reese had to lean in to hear it. “And I don’t get confused easily.”
“That feels like a compliment,” Reese murmured.
“It wasn’t meant as one,” Sloane replied, but her eyes said otherwise. The dim emergency lighting caught a flicker of something. Interest, maybe? Curiosity? Whatever it was, it was new. And it was aimed directly at Reese.
Reese let the moment stretch. “You know, you don’t have to keep pretending you don’t like me. Or are we leaving all of that back at the restaurant?”
Sloane’s brows lifted, but she didn’t deny it. She didn’t deflect. She didn’t joke.
Instead, she exhaled, slow and steady, as if Reese had knocked the air from her.
Her hand, resting on the floor between them, curled just slightly.
Nervous? Or fighting the impulse to reach?
Reese couldn’t tell. She only knew her own pulse was thundering in her ears.
Had she ever found any woman on earth this wildly attractive?
“Reese,” Sloane warned, but the warning wavered. “This, whatever this is, we’re not supposed to go there.”
“Because of some undocumented rule?” Reese asked quietly. “Or because you’re afraid of where it might lead?”
Sloane met her gaze head-on then, and the world beneath Reese’s rib cage tilted. “Maybe a little of both,” Sloane said. A confession she probably hadn’t intended to give.
Reese swallowed. “You know what’s funny?” she said, leaning in, her shoulder brushing Sloane’s now. “I’ve been trying all night to decide if I should sidestep whatever this is. If I should ignore the way you look at me sometimes.”
“I don’t—”
“You do,” Reese whispered. “You’re doing it right now.”
Sloane froze. Completely still. Completely caught.
And Reese—God, she wanted to touch her. She wanted to trace her jaw with her fingers. Unbutton that blouse and watch it fall from her fingertips. She settled for sliding her hand an inch closer on the floor until their pinkies nearly, almost touched.
The elevator hummed around them, a soft mechanical heartbeat. Time felt suspended.
Sloane’s voice came out barely audible. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably,” Reese said. “But it doesn’t feel terrible.”
For a moment, for one breathless second, Sloane seemed to grant herself permission to look. Really look. At Reese’s mouth. At the bare inches between them. At the closed space that suddenly felt too intimate in all the right ways.
And Reese knew: if the elevator stayed stalled even one minute longer, one of them was going to make a choice they couldn’t take back.
Sloane’s gaze dropped once more to Reese’s mouth. Just a flicker—but enough to feel like gravity had shifted direction and decided Reese was the new down.
Reese’s breath caught. “Sloane …”
“Don’t,” Sloane whispered, though her body swayed closer as if her instincts had not received the memo. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?” Reese asked, her voice barely more than air.
“Like you want—” Sloane cut herself off, jaw tightening, as if the rest of the sentence was too dangerous to speak aloud.
But Reese heard it anyway. Want me.
Reese didn’t move at first. She waited. She let Sloane feel the weight of her wanting, the safety of it, the invitation without pressure. She let the moment fill every inch of the dimly lit space.
And then, slowly, carefully, like testing the edge of a cliff, Reese slid her hand along Sloane’s cheek, into her hair.
Sloane inhaled sharply.
That tiny spark of contact traveled straight up Reese’s arm and settled low in her belly. Sloane didn’t pull away. She didn’t speak. She only watched Reese, eyes dark and wide, as if she was actively losing a battle with herself.
“Tell me to stop,” Reese whispered.
Sloane closed her eyes. “I can’t.”
That was all Reese needed.
She reached up, a slow, deliberate lift of her hand, giving Sloane every chance to retreat. But Sloane didn’t move. If anything, she leaned in first.
Their lips met in a soft, startled collision. Not urgent. Not practiced. Not anything Reese had expected.
Just real. Carnal. Amazing. This should have been the moment the elevator burst to life, stealing this very important moment, but it didn’t.
They were left to explore it, deepen it, breathe in the shock of how right it felt.
Sloane’s hand came to Reese’s jaw, tentative at first, then certain, guiding her closer.
Reese melted into the touch, into the kiss, into the way Sloane kissed like she’d been holding herself back for far too long.
The world narrowed to warmth and breath and the soft press of mouths learning each other in the dim, humming quiet of the elevator.
For a suspended, perfect moment, nothing existed outside the two of them.
No rules, no roles, no impossible lines drawn between who they were supposed to be.
Just this.
Just them.
They came apart breathless and a little shocked. Silence settled as they watched each other, still hungry, still wanting. “There are probably cameras,” Sloane said finally.
“I suppose there are.” Reese’s eyes never left Sloane’s. But she was right. The last thing either of them needed was some assistant shift manager at the hotel selling the footage to one of the racing outlets. “I’ll stay over here,” Reese said.
“You haven’t moved,” Sloane pointed out, the beginnings of a smile tugging her lips.
“Oh, right,” Reese said, her cheeks warming because her brain had clearly not returned to its full function. She slid to the other side of the elevator, which, honestly, was only a few more feet. “So.” A pause. “How’s your day been?”
That pulled a laugh, and Reese understood that she would spend an entire lifetime trying to earn that sound again.
Something warm and certain settled in her chest. She loved Sloane’s laugh, the way it softened her, brightened her, cracked her open in ways Reese had only ever imagined.
And suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to be the reason Sloane laughed, over and over again.
She wasn’t sure what to do with that realization, so she held it quietly for herself.
Before either of them could speak again, the elevator jolted with a violent shudder. Reese’s hand instinctively shot out to steady Sloane, who grabbed her arm in return. Then the machinery groaned, hummed, and miraculously began to move.
They both stood quickly, straightening clothing, smoothing hair, clearing throats like teenagers caught doing something they absolutely shouldn’t.
“Great timing,” Sloane muttered.
“Elevators respect drama,” Reese whispered back.
That earned her another tiny, involuntary tug of a smile.
The doors slid open to the lobby, not a midfloor landing, proving the universe had a sense of humor and liked to weaponize it.
A few guests milled about, including Delaney, who froze mid-text the moment she spotted them stepping out of a stalled elevator together, hair mussed, faces flushed, looking profoundly not normal.
Delaney’s eyes narrowed slightly, just enough for Reese, who knew her well, to notice.
Sloane cleared her throat. “I’m, uh, going to take the stairs.” She pointed vaguely toward the stairwell as if announcing a fire exit. “Five floors. Good cardio.”
“Right,” Delaney said. “Cardio is always a good idea.”
Sloane gave Reese one last look—quick, soft, and absolutely devastating—before ducking away with the brisk efficiency of someone escaping a crime scene.
Reese stepped out, trying very hard to appear like a woman who had not just kissed someone she shouldn’t in a stalled elevator. She failed.
Delaney watched Sloane disappear, then turned back to Reese with an expression far too knowing.
“So,” Delaney said slowly, sliding her phone into her pocket. “Anything you want to tell me?”
Reese swallowed. “About what?”
Delaney’s eyebrows lifted. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”