Stuck I

To an outsider, Sebastian and Isabella looked like they hated each other's guts but to them, arguing was the only way to survive the suffocating weight of a desire they were desperately trying to ignore..

Sebastian was forty-two and a man with disciplined habits. He had married Isabella’s mother five years ago, and from the moment he stepped into the house, he had felt a magnetic, terrifying pull toward the girl who was barely twenty at the time.

He had spent years building a wall of sternness and criticism, masking his lust with parental discipline. He nitpicked her clothes, her grades and her attitude, anything to keep her at a distance, because if he got too close, he knew he would devour her.

Isabella, now twenty-five, was a whirlwind of defiance and beauty. She played the part of the rebellious stepdaughter perfectly, snapping back at every one of his critiques with a biting wit that left him reeling.

She loved the way his jaw tightened when she pushed his buttons; she loved the way his eyes darkened when she wore a dress that was just a little too short. She hated him for being so repressed, and she hated herself for wanting to be pinned against a wall by him.

Their relationship was a series of skirmishes. A fight over the dishes became a battle of wills; a disagreement about her career choices became a shouting match that left them both breathless. They were two predators circling each other, both too afraid to make the first move, both convinced the other truly despised them.

The breaking point happened on a Tuesday afternoon at the corporate headquarters where Sebastian worked as a senior executive. Isabella had come to the office to drop off some legal papers her mother had forgotten.

She had dressed for the occasion in a tight, cream-colored pencil skirt that hugged her curves and a silk blouse that hinted at the lace bra beneath. She knew exactly how she looked, and she knew exactly how Sebastian would react.

As they walked toward the elevators, the bickering started almost immediately.

"I don't see why you couldn't have just mailed these, Isabella. You're wasting my time and yours," Sebastian snapped.

"Oh, please. You love it when I come here. It gives you a chance to tell me how disappointed you are in my life choices," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's practically your favorite hobby."

"My hobby is ensuring this family doesn't fall apart because of your impulsiveness," he countered, stepping into the elevator and gesturing for her to follow.

Isabella stepped in, her heels clicking on the polished metal floor. "You're so obsessed with control, Sebastian. It must be exhausting, pretending you're some perfect saint while you judge everyone around you."

The doors slid shut and they stood side by side. Sebastian stared straight ahead, his hands clenched at his sides, while Isabella leaned against the mirrored wall, watching him with a challenging smirk.

"You're a brat," he muttered.

"And you're a bore," she snapped back.

They began to argue in earnest, the volume rising as they traded insults. It was what they had done a thousand times, but today felt different. The space was too small and the scent of his expensive cologne mixing with her floral perfume created an intoxicating mixture.

"You think you're so superior!" Isabella shouted, stepping closer to him, her finger poking his chest. "But you're just a coward! You're terrified of anything you can't put in a spreadsheet!"

Sebastian turned to her, his eyes flashing. "I am not a coward, Isabella. I am only trying to build you into a responsible adult!"

"You're not even my father!" she screamed.

"I know I'm not!" he roared back.

At that exact moment, the elevator gave a violent lurch. A loud, metallic clang echoed through the shaft, and the car shuddered to a stop. The lights flickered twice, and then plunged them into a dim, emergency red glow.

"What the fuck was that?" Isabella whispered, her bold girl act momentarily slipping.

Sebastian pressed the alarm button. Nothing. He tried the intercom. Static. He sighed, a sound of pure frustration, and leaned his head against the wall. "We're stuck."

"Stuck? You've got to be kidding me," Isabella groaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "I can't believe I'm trapped in a metal box with you."

Sebastian looked down at her. In the red light, she looked ethereal, her chest heaving from the argument, her lips parted. The anger was still there, but beneath it, the hunger was screaming. He slid down the wall opposite her, his long legs stretching out, his knees nearly touching hers.

"Stop acting like a victim," he said, though the bite was gone from his voice. "It's just a mechanical failure. They'll find us."

"And until then, we just... sit here? Try nothin?" Isabella looked up at him. "Is that how you handle everything, Sebastian? Just shut down and wait or what?"

"I am trying to remain calm," he gritted out.

"You're not calm. You're vibrating," she noted, her voice dropping to a whisper. She shifted, her skirt riding up her thighs, exposing a tantalizing amount of pale skin. "You've been vibrating every time I've been in the room for five years."

Sebastian froze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar," she breathed. She crawled toward him slowly. "I think you just hate me because you want me so bad it hurts."

Sebastian's breath hitched. He tried to maintain his mask, but the red light and the isolation were stripping away his defenses. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" Isabella was now inches away from him, her scent filling his lungs. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she touched his jaw. "Tell me I'm lying, Sebastian. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want to do anything to me right here right now."

Sebastian's resolve snapped like a dry twig. He grabbed her wrist firmly, and pulled her against him violently.

"You have no idea," he growled. "You have no fucking idea how much I've wanted to shut you up this way."