"Stop trying to scare me. Seriously, if you’re holding me like this and the elevator actually drops, there’s no way either of us is getting out alive."
She couldn’t tell if it was her imagination, but right after she said that, she thought she heard Franco laugh—just the tiniest bit.
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
“What?” Petty’s head was pressed against his chest. One ear was filled with the steady thump of his heartbeat. The other ear still hadn’t fully recovered, so everything sounded a little fuzzy.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his hand suddenly tightened around the back of her head. Then it happened: the elevator, which had paused on the fifteenth floor, suddenly shot downwards.
Franco pivoted, pressing the back of his head and shoulders against the elevator’s wall. He scooped Petty right off the ground, setting her on his strong, bent thigh. One hand supported her neck and head, his arms holding her fast.
“Franco, you jinx!” Petty blurted out, her face ghost white with fear. Panic slammed into her, all her instincts screaming for safety, so she pressed herself closer to him without even thinking.
All of a sudden, something warm and soft grazed her forehead, so light it was barely there. She went completely still. Franco had just kissed her.
Right then, the elevator jolted to a stop. It was so sudden it almost felt unreal.
Petty looked up on reflex, just as Franco looked down. The jolt must have knocked off his glasses, because now his eyes stared at her, pitch-black and intense, nothing in the way. They pulled her in like they could swallow her whole.
She looked away fast, dragging in a shaky breath. “I’m totally going to write an article about your hospital’s deathtrap elevators. Clearly, nobody’s bothering to fix them.”
The elevator was stuck somewhere between floors, the metal humming with tension. Franco still didn’t let her go. His low, rough voice rumbled right by her ear, every word warm against her skin. “Not worried about getting on my bad side?”

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