His words cut off at the sound of the elevator door dinging open. Voices drift down the hallway and it only takes one laugh for us to both recognize it as Joey’s. “Shit,” Michael growls, taking a step toward me, closing the distance between us. Our bodies collide, my breasts pressed into the hard planes of his chest. But Michael doesn’t stop. He circles an arm around my back, and in one swift move, he lifts me, steps forward—propelling me back into the room—and kicks the door shut.
