The flash of ambition he saw in her eyes brought a wave of uneasiness. He’d seen that look far too many times in his ex-wife’s eyes.

“And what about a husband and kids? Do you see that in your future too, or just the Pulitzer?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Sure, I want those things too, but there’s no rush. I want to focus on my career right now, make a name for myself. There’ll be time for all the rest.”

Becker stifled a snort. How many times had he heard that one? There’s no rush. There’s time. Alice had spouted that bull for fourteen years of marriage, before finally dropping the bomb that she never planned on starting a family.

A spark of bitterness ignited in his gut, but he forced himself not to reveal his thoughts on the subject to Jane. He seriously needed to stop comparing her to his ex. He didn’t even know this woman. He had no right judging her choices and goals. So what if they weren’t aligned with his? Wasn’t like he was going to marry the girl.

“I do make plenty of time for sex, though,” she added with a small grin.

His hard-on returned with full-force, straining against his zipper. No doubt Jane felt it straining against her too, because her eyes widened slightly. “Oh my,” she murmured.

Becker rolled his eyes. “That’s what happens when you say the word sex while you’re sitting in a man’s lap, sweetheart.”

“Do you want me to say it again?” she asked with an impish look.

“Seeing as we’re trapped here in this elevator, I can’t really stop you from saying anything, can I?”

He instantly knew he’d said the wrong thing because Jane’s blue eyes flickered with terror. She glanced around the small space, as if remembering where they were and why there were there. Her throat worked as she swallowed repeatedly, and Beck could practically hear her pulse began to race. Shit. Why on earth had he reminded her they were trapped in an elevator?

“Jane—” he started.

“How long has it been?” she cut him off. “Didn’t he say a half an hour? It feels like ages since—”

“Jane—”

She shifted in his lap, hand fumbling toward her purse. “My phone has the time on it. I need to see—”

“Jane—”

“—how long we’ve been here. Do you feel hot too or is it just me? And it is getting hard to breathe, because I really can’t—”

Becker pressed his lips to hers. He hadn’t planned on kissing her, but it was the only way to shut her up, to distract her before she hurled herself headfirst off another panic cliff.

Only, the second his mouth touched hers, he forgot all about why he’d kissed her in the first place. Instead, all he could think about was…well, kissing her. Kissing the holy hell out of her.

So he did.

Chapter Two

Jane let out a startled squeak, which quickly transformed into a whimper as Becker’s tongue slid deftly into her mouth. Oh, sweet Jesus, this man could kiss. You wouldn’t think it, based on his stiff, serious demeanor, but evidently all the intensity he kept bottled up came pouring out when he kissed.

Her surroundings completely faded as she lost herself in the kiss. His mouth was firm and warm, his tongue lazy as it danced with hers. Jane’s entire body went soft, her muscles turning to jelly while her thighs quivered. She ran her fingers over Becker’s buzz cut, his short spiky hair tickling her palms. He responded by sliding one hand to her waist, while angling her head with the other in order to deepen the kiss.

Jane moaned into his mouth, unable to stop herself from rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. An answering moan sounded deep in his throat. His fingers tightened over her hip.

“We should stop,” he ground out, breaking the kiss.

“Probably,” she said with a faint smile.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Becker’s brown eyes glimmered with heat. Jane’s pulse thudded in her throat.

And then they were kissing again, and the word stop was blown away by a gust of mutual attraction. This was crazy. She’d had one-night-stands before, but always with men she’d known for more than twenty minutes, damn it. And never in an elevator. Yet Jane couldn’t stop the rush of desire swirling through her body. She placed her palms against Becker’s rock-hard chest, moaning at the feel of his defined pecs and the thump of his heart under her fingers. Becker’s hands were also busy, unbuttoning her suit jacket, slipping under the lacy white camisole beneath it. He stroked the bare skin of her belly, then moved his hands north and cupped her full br**sts.

“Christ,” he choked out, squeezing her br**sts over her bra. “I could probably come just from fondling these.”

She let out a soft laugh. “And I could probably come just by doing this.” She rubbed her aching sex against his crotch again to illustrate her point.

Becker groaned. “You realize this is a really bad idea, right?”

“Oh, it’s a terrible idea,” she agreed, and then she shrugged out of her jacket and peeled the camisole off her chest.

Becker sucked in a breath, those intense dark eyes widening at the sight of her lacy black bra. Slowly, he took off his own shirt and this time her eyes widened. His chest was absolutely spectacular, broad and rippled, with a dusting of brown hair leading down to his waistband. That tender spot between her legs began to throb, making her move restlessly against him.

“Are you turned on, Jane?” he asked hoarsely.