Wild Honey

Chapter Eight

Honey had no idea why she'd told him all that. And even less idea why she felt okay about it. The silence between them was comfortable rather than awkward.

His head rested against the wall behind him as he stared ahead. None of his thoughts showed on his face, which made him difficult to read. It was an expression she knew well, had seen on his face every time their paths had crossed. What had changed was not his expression but how she interpreted it.

Once, as in four and a half hours ago, she'd construed inscrutable as judgmental, thoughtful as arrogant, and private as dislike. Two hundred and seventy minutes ago she hadn't known to look for the small tells. The tick in his jaw that spoke of strong emotion, the tightening around the corners of his mouth when something amused him, the flex of his fingers as he solved some internal conundrum. If she got to know him better, might she learn more of his signals?

Honey wanted to be able to read him like someone who knew him well. Intimately. If she climbed to her knees and then straddled him, she might be welcome. She'd caught the flash of heat in his eyes when he looked at her. His businessman battle armor didn't hide how beautifully he was put together or how well he took care of himself.

Her gaze locked on his top button and her fingers twitched to unbutton it and find more smooth, warm skin beneath it. A much better idea would be a distraction and she sat up and reached for her purse.

"What is it?" He took the opportunity to stretch. "Uncomfortable?"

"Quite the opposite." Not wanting to explain her hot cheeks, she buried her face in her bag. "I was thinking I must have something in here we could do."

His voice deepened. "I have an idea or two."

He'd gone there, the place she rummaged in her bag to avoid. Typical Oliver, straight at the gate, balls to the wall and blisteringly honest. He deserved the same from her.

"Me too." She took a deep breath and met his gaze. His "ideas" swirled in the languid heat of his stare. "And if you still have those ideas when we're out of this lift, then we should discuss them."

"You think I'll change my mind." He nodded as if he tucked that piece of information away. "I won't, but if it takes being out of here to convince you, I can do that too."

At the bottom of her bag she found salvation and whipped it out. She held it up triumphantly. "Crosswords. We can do crosswords."

"Yay," he deadpanned. "For the record, my idea was much more fun."

"For the record, I agree." She dug out a pen. "But whatever this is, I don't want to rush it and find out there's nothing more there than two strangers stuck in a lift and bored."

He stared at her, looking for several held breaths like he might show her what happened when two strangers connected like they did. The air thickened between them with possibilities, and for several held breaths Honey wanted him to do it despite her reservations.

"Fair enough." He patted his thigh. "Crossword it is."

Honey took a deep breath to feed her starved lungs and eyed his thigh. It didn't seem the safest place to prop her head right now.

Up shot one of his eyebrows in challenge. "Chicken?"

"Prudent," she said.

"Come on, Honey." He laughed. "I can control my manly lusts, and I like having you close to me."

Well, when he put it like that. Honey settled down with her head on his thigh again. She kept her eyes on her crossword and did not let her gaze drift to the right.

"One across. British soldiers seventeen-hundreds. Eight letters."

"You know I didn't go to an expensive private school," he said. "Redcoats."

"What?"

"Redcoats." He glanced down at her. "Eight letters, British soldiers."

Honey jabbed his thigh with her pen. "Not that, the other thing."

"Oh, that." He smirked. "Esmé didn't believe in private schools. She believed we started with so many more advantages than most that she needed to level the playing field with education."

"Really?"

"Fill in redcoats." He tapped her crossword book. "Yes, really." Then he grimaced. "But don't forget that we may have gone to public school, but we went to one in an affluent area, so there is only so much leveling she really did."

"Ah." He kept surprising her. Kept knocking down her assumptions one by one. "One down starting with E and assuming recoats is correct."

"It's correct."

So cocksure. "Seven letters, well informed."

"Your eyes are the exact color of your name." He may have agreed to do the crossword but his hot gaze made a liar of his thoughts.

"Well, d'uh." She needed to diffuse the moment before she did something stupid. "Why do you think they call me Honey?"

"They named you that." He shrugged. "Erudite."

"Nope they named me something else. Erudite? Are you sure?"

"Seven letters, well-informed, starting with E." He slid his hand to the inch of her tummy showing between her top and skirt. "You know what I first noticed about you?"

"No." It was hard to produce a sound with those calloused fingertips brushing the flesh around her belly button. She'd have expected his hands to be smooth. How he got those callouses was another thing she added to her burgeoning list of things she wanted to know about Oliver Holt.

"This." He tapped her belly ring. "I couldn't seem to get my eyes unglued from it."

"I got it done when I was learning to bellydance." Her voice came out in a rush of breath. "It's a belly ring. Hardly original."

"Right," he said spreading his fingers over her stomach, his thumb beneath her top and his pinkie dipping below her waistband. "On the sexiest stomach I've ever seen."

Honey made a last-ditch effort at rationality. "I thought we were doing the crossword."

"We are." Sighing, he left his hand where it was and put his head back against the wall. "What did they name you?"

"Nope, not telling." Speaking got increasingly difficult under the warm pressure of his hand. An inch or two up and he could cup her breast. An inch or two down and he'd know she was bluffing about not wanting to jump his bones right this minute. "Ten letters, starting with D. Duke is accused of offence and released."

"I really want to kiss you." His gaze traced her mouth.

God, she wanted that so badly but what if it all disappeared once they left there. The intimacy they'd built around them was as fragile as a soap bubble. She wanted it to last forever. Dislodging his hand, she sat up. "Lettice."

"What?" He blinked.

"One of my mothers was a theatre kid and it's from a play." None of her objections made any sense as she stared at him. What if all they had was this moment in time? Why waste it?

"I would go with Honey too." He cupped her nape and tugged her closer. "I have bourbon breath."

"Me too." She didn't care about anything but the kiss she craved.

"Hello," a man squawked.

They jumped apart.

"Are you still in there?" The voice came from the lift intercom. "This is Inspire Elevators, are you still in there?"