“I can’t believe this is my life.” I tucked my knees into my chest, holding them tightly against my body as tremors started to shake my muscles.
“What’s going on with you now?” His tone lowered darkly, adding to the chaos in my mind. His shoulder pressed closer to mine as he leaned in, his scent filling my nostrils as heat prickled every cell of my skin.
“I…” I huffed, emotion cycling through me like a tornado. “I…” I sucked in a breath of air, determined not to fall apart in front of this man. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
“What? No. Stop.” His palms wrapped around my shoulders. Suddenly, he was hovering over me, slipping me from the middle of the elevator before pressing a hand over my forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up.”
“I blame you,” I uttered, feeling faint for the first time. I felt his thighs press on either side of my legs as his hands ran down my form. I’d already stripped off my shirt when the lights were on, only a camisole and my pencil skirt and those damn heels remained.
“You always blame me.”
“It all went downhill when I invited you into my box.”
“Famous last words, Kitten.”
I imagined being stuck in this tiny elevator with this man–or any man–for the next who knows how long. I finally gulped. “Jesus…I’m scared.”
“Blaming me for that, too?” He whispered, his lips at my ear before I felt him pulling my pencil skirt up my thighs. “I blame all these fucking clothes, it’s summertime, why are you wearing this? It’d keep an Eskimo in a blizzard warm.”
“This skirt was all the shop had in my size!” I cried real tears for the first time, feeling the pressure of the last few months as I’d worked on the Elders case–the very case I’d researched my ass off and won, that’d gotten me the promotion to begin with. “I didn’t have time to order anything, and the only place to shop in this town is the secondhand shop on the corner downtown. I spent all my money on these stupid heels; red is my favorite color, but the truth is, they fucking hurt my feet. They’re torture devices.” I ran my hand down my ankle to slip the awful things off my feet when I ran into his hand–warm and tender as it hovered at my ankle and then slipped one heel off.
“I’ve got a tool for that.” He settled me softly, both of my calves angled over his thighs as we curled closely together and he rubbed at the aching arch of my foot. I didn’t huff this time. Instead, I groaned. “Well, we may have more trouble the more sounds like that come off your lips.”
“You’re one cocky paramedic, ya know that?”
“You’re not the first to say that.”
“I’m not even a little surprised about that.” I stilled when his hand moved to my other foot, before blurting, “You’re good with your hands.”
“They’re my best tool,” he uttered as his hands worked magic on my other foot, melting away the ache from the heels and melting my entire body into him. “Not my favorite tool though.” Insinuation rippled with every syllable.
“Oh?” I hummed, distracted by the pleasure at his hands.
“My favorite tool is–” Just then his portable radio buzzed to life, someone at the station I presumed, calling to check on him.
“Mav–the elevator company called with an update–they’re estimating at least four hours because a storm washed out the bridge through the pass–you okay over there?”
Four hours.
Holy shit.
My breathing came in gasping pants. I could not be stuck in here with him for the next four hours. It’d been about fourteen minutes and I was about to lose it.
“We’re good, Larry, thanks for the follow-up. We’ll wait to hear more and let you know if anything changes,” he radioed back.
I grit my teeth. “Something has changed! I’m gonna need a morphine drip if he wants me to stay in here with you for the next four hours.”
“Don’t sound so crushed, Kitten, I’m trained to save you in an emergency, remember?”
“You’re doing a horrible job!” I cried, dread descending over every fiber of my being.
“I am, am I?” He leaned closer, one fingertip dusting my shoulder before traveling up my neck and tugging softly at my ear lobe.
I missed his hands working their magic on my arches immediately.
“Thank you,” I hummed, “for rubbing my feet. They feel better. I’m going to give away those heels first thing in the morning.”
“We might be right here come morning.” He settled my legs against him again, his palms working my ankles and calves now, eliciting a peaceful relaxation from my otherwise stubborn and tense form.
“Don’t remind me. It’s just…I don’t do dark places well, or the unknown, or things out of my control, generally speaking.”
“Well.” He leaned closer, hands working at the tender underside of my knee. Somehow his touch felt blissfully intimate, like his hands knew my skin already. “I hate to break it to you, Kitten, but most people have a fear of all of those things, generally speaking.”