by May Sage
Right?
Carter cursed under his breath when Lucy announced the arrival of the woman she not-so-affectionately liked to call the Wicked Witch of the East. Tara. He’d completely forgotten: he’d made arrangement to take her to the ballet two weeks ago.
Outings of that sort were part of their agreement: he took her on a date twice a month, and she also had a credit card he paid for. In exchange, she ensured she always was… available to him.
It sounded pretty bad, said that way, but she wasn’t a prostitute; Tara was an associate at Pierce, Norman and Trend, a respectable law firm. She loved her career, she loved sex, and like him, she didn’t have the time for a relationship; she also didn’t have the funds to indulge in her love for expensive shows and handbags. What they had was a win-win for all parties.
Anyway, it felt that way most of the time. Today, Carter wasn’t so sure.
Tara came in, barely sparing a glance towards Lucy, and not bothering to return her greeting. Instead, she went right to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.
Carter normally reacted to her practiced lips, so he frowned, wondering why he wasn’t growing hard. It might have been her overbearing perfume.
She must have felt he wasn’t into it, because she took a step back and observed him with her keen eye.
“Let me guess,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’d forgotten about today.”
Damn right he had, or he would have cancelled. He really wasn’t in the mood for her.
“You normally call to confirm,” he replied reproachfully.
“You’d think your secretary would keep on top of your schedule,” she retorted immediately, shifting the blame.
As she glared daggers at Lucy, suddenly acknowledging her presence, Carter wondered how he’d put up with her for three years. The responses he could come up with didn’t paint a flattering assessment of his character.
“Lucy is an executive secretary of Harris Toys, Tara. She doesn’t keep track of whom I fuck and when. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”
If he’d had half a valid excuse, he would have cancelled on her but the only thing on his schedule would have been a takeout, a walk with Buddy and a one-on-one with his kindle; he had three new books to read.
Three books that would have his acquaintances question his sexuality if they ever saw them. Teach Me If You Can, Sue Me If You Can and Save Me If You Can.
Honestly, he’d looked forward to catching up on little Cassie’s bibliography, but he wasn’t so cold as to abandon his date in favor of something he could do any day.
“What was it that you said we’d watch today?”
He all but groaned. He hadn’t said anything, she’d been the one to request tickets to the premiere. At first, he’d assumed that she was fond of ballet, but if she couldn’t even remember what they were seeing, it was probably just because she knew there would be some press around the event.
“The Nutcracker, Tara,” he replied, just as the door of the elevator opened on the ninth floor, in front of a slender blonde whose green eyes went from his date to him, before she redirected them on the floor.
Shit.
He wasn’t sure why he felt awkward; he had absolutely no reason to – but seeing Cassie and his bedmate in the same confined space was… odd.
It made him compare the two women. Many a man might have disagreed, but in his opinion, Tara really had the short end of the stick.
Tara wore a short, tight red dress that left very little to the imagination; her long, slender legs were on display, accentuated by four inch stilettoes she had no problem working with. The garment was tight against her chest, making it obvious that the two humongous bullets sticking out, clearly disproportionate to the rest of her body, were man-made.
In contrast, Cassie was all woman, all natural, all softness. Her grey shift dress reached her knees, and while he could see a hint of the swell of her breast and the curve of her shapely ass, it wasn’t on display; the mystery made him ache to peel the layers off. Slowly. With his teeth.
Jesus H. Christ this was becoming too close to an obsession.
“Doing anything nice tonight, Cassie?”
Carter’s head snapped up. He hadn’t noticed the man who’d come in with her until he spoke to her, with a familiarity he didn’t like.
Carter recognized the guy; he’d seen him on her floor a couple of days earlier. It was one of her colleagues, no doubt. He was attractive, and clearly interested.
That pissed him off. A lot.
“Nothing much,” she replied, meeting his gaze and smiling up at him as Carter’s fists tensed. “A bubble bath, maybe.”
Great. Now they were all imagining her wet and naked.
“Oh, and I want to catch up on X-Men before the next one comes out.”
“Ah, you haven’t seen Apocalypse yet?”
“No, I didn’t get to see it at the cinema and they pushed the release of the DVD,” she pouted.
Carter wasn’t surprised when the guy offered, “I have all of them. You wanna watch them at mine? We could get some takeout.”
The next ten seconds were tense as fuck; he didn’t think he breathed until she opened her mouth.
“Actually, I remembered I have some work to catch up on.”
The eyes were back to their evasion, dropping to her tiptoes.
“Alright. Maybe some other time, then.”
They’d made it to the ground floor. Fucking finally.
Everyone got out of the elevator; as Cassie walked past him, her arm brushed against his, and through layers of fabric, he felt a tingle that shook him to the bone.
She turned to him, startled, as though the current had hit her, too. As she held his gaze for one timeless instant, his body found against his mind, willing him to close the gap between them and take her plump lips.
“Carter, darling?”
Tara’s syrupy sweet voice pulled him from the spell, and with some willpower, he managed to turn to his date.
What the heck was that?
All he knew was that he had two choices: he had to stop this train wreck right now.
Or run with it.
He was pretty certain he knew what he was going to do.
Well, that answered her question.
After meeting the CEO and his date, Cassie felt extremely silly for even contemplating the idea that he might be into someone like her. Of course he wasn’t; he belonged to the realm of drop-dead-gorgeous, sensual brunettes who didn’t get IDed to buy a bottle of wine.
Fuckity-fuck, that was humiliating.
No matter. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Now she knew to take what he said at face value. He wanted to be friends, and what he was after was a bit of conversation and some cupcakes. She knew she could learn loads from him; his critic of her book had been on point, nailing everything she might have missed.
She would count her blessings, and stop herself from ever hoping for more.
Chapter 8
Carter was exhausted and pissed off – not the best combination.
The previous night had been an ordeal. He’d been on edge since the elevator, and four hours of ballet didn’t much improve his mood. It wasn’t his first show, but he wasn’t a fan – too many men in tight lycra for his liking.
Then, he’d had to reject Tara’s advances. He hadn’t been in the mood, but the woman had been insistent.
“This isn’t how it works, Tara. I get to fuck you when I feel like it – when I don’t, feel free to satisfy your needs elsewhere.”
It hadn’t been kind, but she stopped trying to open his pants after he said it, and that was all that mattered.
The infuriating thing was that he knew what had induced his sour mood. He couldn’t put the meeting with Cassie and her admirer out of his mind.
It was clear that the guy in the elevator had been into her. His not-so-subtle offer of Netflix-and-chill was just a barely veiled hookup proposal.
She’d said no. That was the on
ly thing that kept him sane right now. She’d dished out an excuse to get out of it.
But damn, it was frustrating. He wasn’t supposed to care – not one bit. He wasn’t supposed to have been tempted to punch the guy in the throat if she’d replied okay. In his hurry to dismiss the very possibility of getting involved with Cassandra Franklin, he hadn’t considered what would happen if she was seeing someone else.
One thing was certain: it wouldn’t be good.
Shit. There was a chance that she already was in a relationship – that might be why she’d rejected the guy’s offer.
“What?” he barked at the knock on his door.
But as soon as his eyes went up, all animosity left his body; he uncurled his fists and exhaled a relaxing breath.
Cassie. In a damn grey tartan A-line dress, with longish sleeves and a boat neckline. There was a bright red belt hugging her small waist, and the skirt flew around her rounded hips. The ensemble was demure, perfectly acceptable in the office: those who stayed behind the scene were advised to keep it business casual, and that fit.
At the same time, it didn’t. It was too perfect, too sweet. She looked like she’d walked out of a photoshoot.
It only hit him now, but the girl definitely had some fashion sense. Sure, her attires couldn’t be more different from Tara’s or even Lucy’s, who power-dressed, intending to make it clear that they were ball-busters, but the woman must also spend a pretty penny on what she wore. Her style was simpler, feminine and homey. The kind that his mother would approve of… A little too much.
His eyes went to her shoes, and he swallowed a curse.
Fuck.
The little courts weren’t very high, three inch or so, but they were red, with little bows at the back, and they belonged around his waist while he mindlessly pounded into her.
“Is this a bad time?”
Carter cracked a smile – the first one of the day – while wondering what the fuck was happening to him.
“It’s the most perfect time.” Or at least, Lucy would think so; he’d bitten her head off at least twice today. Thankfully, the woman could take care of herself. She might or might not have asked him to pull the dildo out of his ass, if it bothered him so much. She said it like it was, which was why he employed her.
“What have you got here?”
She was holding her brown folder under her arm and two Tupperware in her hands.
“Lasagna. You fed me yesterday, I thought I’d return the favor. And I owed you baked goods, right?”
His mouth was watering at the very thought. Damn.
“Homemade lasagna?” he clarified, wondering when was the last time he’d had homemade anything.
In his youth, his mother had been working two jobs to make ends meet – that didn’t leave her a lot of time to spend in the kitchen. Now she didn’t need to worry about money; she didn’t let Carter give her money, but after a lot of arguments on her part, he’d bought her a place, considerably cutting the amount of bills going out of her pocket. She still worked, although her hours were significantly more friendly now, and she spent her well-deserved spare cash on takeout.
Cassie nodded, and his stomach groaned in response. Hell yes.
She took one step forward and, being Cassandra Franklin, she saw fit to trip over thin air. Time stopped as he helplessly watched her take the inevitable plunge, running forward as fast as he could.
Needless to say, he was too late: she was on her ass, her skirts practically rolled up to her waist, giving him a beautiful view of her long milky thighs.
Shit. The damn panties matched the shoes: blood red with little bows. And lace.
His eyes clouded over, and somehow, he managed to look away as she pushed her clothes down.
“Oh no! The food…”
“I’m sure it’ll taste the same,” he replied, dismissing her concern, holding his hand to help her up. “Damn, you’re a beautiful mess.”
He meant every word, although he hadn’t planned on them crossing his lips. Her cheeks turned as red as her fucking panties, and she turned away, busying herself with collecting the things she’d littered on the floor.
“I’ve always been clumsy. My mother signed me up for dance lessons and stuff, to make me more aware of my surroundings, but the teacher kicked me out.”
“You’re rambling.”
She crossed her arms on her chest and glared.
“Well, pointing it out isn’t very gentlemanly now, is it?”
Oh hell. She hid it pretty well, but the girl was feisty and funny on top of everything else. Carter was so fucked.
“I’m quite certain you’ll soon work out that I’m no gentleman. Okay, let’s put this in the microwave. You’ve read more of my comments?”
Her book was a safe topic; she turned into a complete professional when she talked of it, which meant no more cute rambling or lively retorts.
“Yes, I did. I got to the part where Henri spanks Amy – you just crossed it out. Why is that?”
Great. So much for a safe topic.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, but you suck at BDSM.”
“Oh.”
She pouted and gave him a look that would put Buddy’s pleading puppy dog eyes to shame. Oh shit, no. He was not equipped for dealing with that.
“Cassie?”
“I’ve hurt your feelings.”
“Well… I mean, I knew I wasn’t very good at it. But all the same, hearing it isn’t nice. Necessary, though.”
“Would chocolate make you feel better? Or candies?”
“Probably.”
He nodded, before storming out to the desk in front of his office.
“Please tell me you have some stuff in your naughty drawer,” he begged an amused Lucy.
“Maybe, but it’ll cost you, boss.”
“You get one extra day off. Now hand it over.”
“Deal!” Lucy happily conceded, opening her last draw to give him an assortment of treats.
“And boss?” she said, as he retreated back into his office. “For the record, I approve of this one. About time you found yourself a decent woman.”
Carter frowned, wondering when Lucy had ever said that about any of his dates.
“Cassie is an employee here.”
“I know,” she replied with a wink she probably meant to be meaningful.
Women were weird.
Chapter 9
Cassie wisely ate one of the chocolate bars he’d brought back before submitting herself to more criticism.
“So, what’s wrong with the spanking?” she finally asked.
“The problem is that it feels wrong. Amy isn’t happy or turned on. That immediately makes Henri seem like an ass for not seeing that his sub doesn’t enjoy their scene.”
She nodded like she understood, but she didn’t, not really. How was anyone supposed to like being spanked?
She opened her mouth, but ended up biting the words back.
Thankfully, the microwave beeped before she’d found the courage to make an ass of herself by saying something like show me. Talk about making unwanted advances. To the mega boss, no less.
Carter walked up to the mini kitchen tucked on the side of his humongous office and plated up two servings of messy pasta.
“It’s supposed to look better,” she frowned, wrinkling her nose.
“Thank fuck it doesn’t smell any better or I’d have to eat it with my fingers and lick the plate.”
She smiled broadly, with an embarrassing amount of pride. Cassie liked to cook, but she didn’t really often exert her skills; who wanted to spend an hour in the kitchen for something that they’d eat by themselves?
Her friends and her saw each other every week, and they tended to meet up for dinner at each other’s house, which meant she got to cook for people once a month or so. Any other day, it was ready meals for her. Everyone agreed that Amelia was the best cook of the lot, but Cassie came in on close second, and she won hands down with her baking skills.
; They ate in relative silence, punctuated by a shower of compliments and delighted grunts that made her beam with satisfaction. They were almost finished when out of the blue, the attractive and voluptuous redhead who manned the desk at his door walked in, an amused smirk on her lips.
“I just got a warning from the doorman. Code red.”
Carter blanched, his eyes rounded with surprise and even a little bit of fear, perhaps.
“How long ago?”
“Two, three minutes.”
The usually collected, confident CEO cursed out loud, outright panicking.
“Anything I can do?” Cassie asked.
“No, it’s too late. Wait, maybe you could hide in the bathroom, I’ll get rid of her as quickly as I… Fuck.”
His tirade was interrupted by the elevator, opening up in front of a tall, gorgeous, sensual brunette.
Oh.
It wasn’t the same woman as the one she’d seen with him the previous day, but she was just as stunning, if a little bit less polished. She was in skinny jeans and an elegant coat, with a tasteful painted scarf on top.
“Dammit,” Carter muttered, forcing a smile as he got to his feet. “Mother, what a lovely surprise.”
Wait a second. Had he just said mother?
The woman seemed to be in her forties, max.
“Cut the crappy cake, Carter. I got a call from dear Patrick, he said you’d been terrorizing all your employees this morning. I thought I’d come up to box your ears.”
At the door, she turned to Carter’s assistant and kissed both her cheeks.
“How are you doing, Lucy? Still putting up with my idiot of a son?”
“Yes, ma’am. I shall for as long as he carries on paying me an obscene amount of money.”
“Nonsense. I give it two, three years until you ensnare yourself a millionaire and move on. Still not tempted by Carter, by the way?”
“Not even if you paid me in chocolate. Besides, I’m apparently not to his taste,” Lucy added, with a little tilt of her head.