Hailee
I don’t understand how Alex didn’t freak out when they had to turn off the lights. I’m glad he didn’t, of course. His cool demeanor helped me stay calm.
Still, it’s almost like this situation doesn’t bother him at all. He’s had some fiery moments in the office. Fiery for Alex, at least. We’ve all heard him lay into the board of directors. The glass walls don’t keep out that much sound.
Honestly, it makes me respect him a little bit more. He did make a comment about firing the building manager, and at this point, with this many breakdowns in the building, someone needs to go. But I thought he’d have the behavior of a BMW driver in this situation. That no-blinker-needed entitlement. Righteous rage at being stuck in this elevator.
Nope. Cool as a damn cucumber. Okay, Alex. Maybe you don’t stiff waiters at the country club.
It’s probably for the best he decided to nap, anyway. I wasn’t exactly flirting. My teasing was somewhat genuine. No one gives Alex Blackwell any shit. I guess the only reason I’m comfortable doing it myself is because I’m his best friend’s little sister. I have a bit of immunity. Or at least I think I won’t be sent to work in the office of an iron ore mine in Siberia if I piss him off.
I’m not sure what kind of thoughts I’d be having if we were still talking, because right now I’m trying to pretend like my crotch isn’t wet.
Wet.
I can’t believe it. From talking? I must be ovulating. Or I’m not wet and it’s my period. That might be less of a nightmare. There’s no way I’m that turned on by Alex Blackwell. It could just be that I’ve gone so long without sex that my body is convinced I’m dying alone and is desperate to get me to make a move.
That or Alex is the sexiest man I've so much as seen and now I'm sitting two feet away from him.
Alone.
In the dark.
I actually thought he was going to make a move for a minute there. I’m crazy. After he made that joke, my heart rate soared.
I felt like I saw the ice of an alpine lake crack straight down the middle. But no, if he moved on me, I would’ve pushed him away.
God, the fact that he thinks he can have anything he wants… He’d probably fuck me and then toss me into another department where he’d never have to lay eyes on me again.
But…he’d probably fuck me pretty good before he did. That’s one of the more frustrating things about being a woman. We get the short end of the stick on a lot of things, and I largely keep my thoughts to myself, but sex…
Here’s my argument: We can find a hot guy. Not just hot but smart, kind, got-it-all kind of guy, and then there’s a fifty percent chance he’s a terrible fuck. And a bad lay is not something that can ever be remedied because every guy thinks he’s the best in bed since Adonis. Try to give him a pointer, and he’ll say, “I’ll give you a pointer,” in a dumb, drooly voice. It’s hard out here. Men don’t need women to be good in bed to enjoy sex. But we need them to be.
So sitting next to Alex, as annoying as he is, is a little torturous. With some guys, you know they’d be good in bed by just looking at them. It’s the self-awareness coupled with confidence where you know they’d fuck your absolute brains out. And Alex Blackwell emits that in spades. It follows him around. As visible as a billowing black cloud of ink.
So, here’s a guy who’s hot, single, and can most certainly screw. I don’t blame myself for being interested. It’s been a while since I’ve been impressed in the bedroom.
Maybe impressed isn’t the right word. I want to be taken. And not just in a dating sense. I’ve been had in bed plenty of times. But rarely ever taken.
Am I so crazy that I’m considering getting laid once might be worth losing my job? Barnes has reached a new low in a stuck elevator. New rule: Don’t have sex with Alex. Don’t give him the pleasure. Make him smile, make him show some humanity, because that is a victory.
But no sex.
I lean my head back. My hot day in the office has not gone how I expected it to. There must be a metaphor in the fact that I’m now in complete darkness and Alex can’t even see my cute clothes and makeup. Whatever it is, I don’t think too long about it. This darkness is making me tired. I can hear Alex’s light, steady breaths.
I’m only still awake because my heart is hammering, but I’m getting sleepy as it slows. If I fall asleep, it will just look like a nap, not narcolepsy.
Besides, I don’t want Alex to think I’m just staring into the dark like some weirdo. I shimmy my shoulders and take a few deep breaths to let him know I’m readjusting. Not that it matters. I’m pretty sure he fell asleep in one minute flat. I close my eyes and try to just breathe.
***
The next thing I know, I’m waking up. I must’ve fallen asleep immediately.
I’m blinded. It’s suddenly so bright that when I open my eyes, I have to shut them again. The side of my face is warm, while the rest of me has gotten chilly. I haven’t forgotten where I am. Not for a second. But if I’m in the elevator, why is the surface my face is pressed against soft?
Oh no.
I fling myself so I’m sitting upright with lightning speed.
Alex is just waking up, too. Or, maybe, pretending to. It feels like the elevator is falling. My stomach lurches like I’m sick.
I was sleeping against Alex’s shoulder. I can see a little spot of drool darkening the arm of his suit coat.
No. No. No. I didn’t just do that.
“I take it this means we’re free?” Alex says, not mentioning the obvious, that I leaned into him while I was asleep.
I can smell the spice of his cologne on my upper lip. To make matters worse, I blush so hotly it should be accompanied by steam coming out my ears and the sound effect of a cartoon train whistle.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?” Alex glides to his feet, buttons his suit coat in one little flick of the wrist, and then extends his hand to me. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.
Before I can respond, the woman’s voice comes back over the speaker. “We’re so sorry for the inconvenience. The building manager will be reaching out to you, Mr. Blackwell.”
I feel the elevator moving, and the doors open onto the fifty-fifth floor.
“Thank you,” Alex says coolly. He winks at me and gestures for me to exit first.
I’m slow to move, but somehow, I’m able to put one foot in front of the other. Mostly motivated by the want to hide my burning cheeks from view.