His Personal Assistant

Chapter 8

BPOV.

"Isabella – Bella. Please look at me. Please."

But before I could do anything but gasp at him saying my name, the lights in the elevator suddenly flickered and died. The emergency lighting came on a second later, barely

illuminating everything in an eerie blue.

"What –" I began, but before I could finish the elevator jerked to a stop, sending me flying into Edward.

My knees bent forward underneath me, and if Edward hadn't crouched down to catch me I would have been head-butting him in the stomach.

As it was, we were in some sort of twisted, comical dip, his hands locked around my waist, my hair raking the floor and Edward bent over so our noses were touching. My

hands were dangling uselessly at my sides, but I wanted them buried in his hair. Or grabbing his ass...

I knew he must have been as uncomfortable with the angle as I was, but it seemed we were standing there, our breathing mingling and our eyes locked in the blue light, for an

eternity.

Just as Edward was looking like he was about to say something, another jolt of the elevator had me clutching at his shoulders, while he quickly stood upright to keep us from

toppling to the floor.

In heels, the top of my head was just raking his jaw, and I knew if I took them off he'd be able to tuck me securely under his chin. The height difference, far from intimidating me,

made me feel feminine.

My hands were on the tops of his shoulders. And yeah, those weren't shoulder pads. Because though he might seem slight next to Emmett, he clearly wasn't. Edward's had one

arm wrapped completely around my back and resting on my side, and his other was tangled in my hair. His smell; expensive soap, 100% cotton shirt, and a distinct

Edwardish-male scent, was tickling my nose from where my face was buried in the from of his shirt.

"Do you think the powers gone out?" My voice was muffled against him, and I had to clear my throat mid-sentence. In my defense, I was having flash backs to my seventh

Birthday party, where I had gotten stuck in a toilet booth and it had taken my mum, Renee, two hours to find me. I was also keenly aware of the fact that Edward Cullen had me

wrapped in his arms in what was essentially an embrace.

That awareness only lasted another second, because the arm that had been wrapped around me was loosened, and his free hand began trailing up my back, across

my shoulder, until it wrapped firmly around my arm, just above the elbow. I knew he was only keeping it there in case I fell again, but did he have to move it so intimately?

In response to my question, he used his free hand to pop-open the control panel and pick up the emergency phone.

The frown on his face when he put the receiver to his ear made my heart beat a little faster in nervousness, and it was already beating fast enough in arousal. He clicked down

the redial button a few times.

"Well?" I couldn't help but blurt then, and I knew my voice still held anger from how he had treated me earlier.

"There's no dial tone." He informed me, hanging up. His hand ghosted towards his jacket pocket, no doubt for his phone, before he realized you couldn't get reception in here.