The elevator arrives, and I allow her to step in first. I press the first-floor button and the doors close. In the confines of the elevator, I’m completely aware of her. A trace of her sweet fragrance invades my senses…Her breathing alters, hitching a little, and she peeks up at me with a bright comehither look. Shit. She bites her lip. She’s doing this on purpose. And for a split second I’m lost in her sensual, mesmerizing stare. She doesn’t back down. I’m hard. Instantly. I want her. Here. Now. In the elevator. “Oh, fuck the paperwork.” The words come from nowhere and on instinct I grab her and push her against the wall. Clasping both her hands, I pin them above her head so she can’t touch me, and once she’s secure, I twist my other hand in her hair while my lips seek and find hers. She moans into my mouth, the call of a siren, and finally I can sample her: mint and tea and an orchard of mellow fruitfulness. She tastes every bit as good as she looks. Reminding me of a time of plenty. Good Lord. I’m yearning for her. I grasp her chin, deepening the kiss, and her tongue tentatively touches mine…exploring. Considering. Feeling. Kissing me back. Oh, God in heaven. “You. Are. So. Sweet,” I murmur against her lips, completely intoxicated, punch-drunk with her scent and taste. The elevator stops and the doors begin to open. Get a fucking grip, Grey. I push myself off her and stand beyond her reach. She’s breathing hard. As am I. When was the last time I lost control? Three men in business suits give us knowing looks as they join us. And I stare at the poster that’s above the buttons in the elevator advertising a sensual weekend at The Heathman. I glance at Ana and exhale. She grins. And my lips twitch once more. What the fuck has she done to me? The elevator stops at the second floor and the guys get out, leaving me alone with Miss Steele. “You’ve brushed your teeth,” I observe with wry amusement. “I used your toothbrush,” she says, eyes shining.