by Ember Flint
“Yes… I’m coming, give me one second.”
Charles smiles. “Thank God, Lulu would have tanned my hide tomorrow, if I didn’t bring her this fucking present.”
I want to tell him that he should have thought about buying it early then to avoid the wails of his hide-skinning witch of a girlfriend, but I think better of it.
After all, he is just sticking around to be a gentleman —not that she deserves it, I spoke with her only once, and it was one time too many— and we are pretty busy men: he probably really couldn’t do it before tonight so I should cut him some slack.
We hear the female voice again, getting closer. “I’m really sorry for the inconvenience, we’re actually already closed, but I forgot to put the sign on the door.”
I see Charles start to fidget by my side. “Oh… so you cannot help us, then? It is not nine ‘o clock yet…”
There is a sliver of panic in his blue eyes, leading me to think that a pissed-off Louise is not something pleasant to be around and I laugh to myself: Chuck is almost as big as me, when we enter a meeting room, especially in foreign countries where we are not as well-known as here in the States or in the UK, people usually come and ask us if the perimeter is secure, thinking we’re the body-guards, not the businessmen they’ve come to meet with.
I start to make a joke about his fear of his diminutive —compared to us— yet despotic soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, when I see someone coming through the arched entrance to stand behind the counter and all the air leaves my lungs at once.
I’ve seen plenty of beautiful women from all around the world and fucked a good share of them while I was at it, but this lady is in a category of her own.
I’ve never seen anything more lovely in my life. She’s just… perfect, there’s no other definition for it.
She has the face of an angel, fresh and alive, and as far as I can see not a smidgen of make-up on it.
Long, glossy, waves the color of rich Colombian coffee fall in layers around her slight shoulders.
She is so small, she probably would barely touch my chest with the top of her head, but her body is packed with the best set of curves I’ve ever seen.
She has a perfect hourglass figure that could have put the hottest-looking Pin-up from the Fifties to shame.
My eyes hungrily scan an extremely tiny waist, soft-looking voluptuous hips and breasts that seem to call for my touch.
My fingers are itching.
“We actually close at half past eight, but don’t worry, I will help you. Let me guess: one of you or both of you pissed off his girlfriend,” she declares, a twinkling light in her bright, huge chocolate eyes.
Charles laughs, but me? I’m done in, I can’t even speak.
“That will be me… my friend here, is the moral support, but would you still help me if I told you that the gift is for a girlfriend who is not pissed at present but will for sure be by tomorrow, if I don’t get her something from this exact store for her birthday?”
She giggles. “I guess… moral support, uh? Pretty scary places these lingerie boutiques nowadays.”
My heart is hammering furiously in my chest, my mouth is dry, my hands are shaking and my cock has gone so hard so fast that I’m suddenly feeling light-headed. Thank heavens for the coat I’m wearing, or she would have got quite the eyeful: I’m a big boy all over.
I can see my friend checking her out, but it is the normal once-over that any straight, unattached man will give to a beautiful woman and has nothing in common with my overpowering reaction to her beauty and grace.
I’m turned on like never before in my life and my eyes keep on going to hers, she is trying to be professional but she looks flustered and her porcelain skin is lit from the inside by a profuse blush that is spreading from her high cheekbones, to the lovely indent of her throat and the generous curve of breast picking from the V-neck of her dress.
She holds my stare for a long moment and then looks down; her long, black eyelashes fluttering.
I tell myself I have to stop openly devouring her: it doesn’t take a genius to see I’m making her more than a bit uncomfortable, but I can’t.
My every thought is consumed by a desire I’ve never felt before this strongly, this devastatingly.
I want to kiss, bite and lick every inch of her for God knows how long and I want to spend an equal amount of time listening to her telling me everything there is to know about her and then I want to do it all over again from the top without even stopping to catch my breath.
I feel like the time is standing still.
There’s like a string that pulls me to her and I can’t seem to be able to break free, not that I want to.
No, what I want is to shag her senseless and then some and I’m pretty sure whatever it is that is happening it’s something that she senses as much as I do.
I can see it in her rapid breathing, in the faltering of her voice as she banters back and forth with Charles and of course in that ever-present, delicious warm blush.
I realize they are still speaking, my brain registers something about lacy push-up bras and thongs.
Great, just what I need to calm the raging erection pressing painfully against my slacks: the woman I want to fuck through every possible surface, speaking about lingerie with those full, sexy plum-colored lips.
Bloody fucking hell, I need to know her name.
I need to know everything about her.
Chapter 4
LARA
“Tell me your name,” the guy who has been silent since I came out front —the one build as a concrete wall, so tall I have to take several steps back to be able to look him in the eyes, so handsome I don’t think I’ve ever seen his equal outside of a TV screen, the owner of the powerful voice with the panty-melting British accent that stole my breath and has yet to give it back— is asking me something.
No, not asking: demanding.
I blink several times to clear my blurred vision.
I suddenly feel like I’m high on something; I’ve never felt this way in my life.
I actually thought these kind of things never happened in real life.
Had a friend tried to describe such a sensation to me, I would have dismissed it entirely as a silly romantic notion and laughed about it; yet here I am, struck as never before, completely captivated by his dark, expressive eyes and the inviting curve of his mouth.
“Lara, my name is Lara…” my voice is barely a whisper.
“Aston,” his voice is like hot caramel, it makes me shiver and yet I’m warm all over.
He gives me a smile that could light the darkest room in a second and my heart jumps in my throat.
He even has dimples?
It has to be illegal or something.
I don’t know what’s going on, but of one thing I’m sure: I’m pretty damn happy that the one with the crazy girlfriend is his friend Charles and not him.
I try to summon all of my customer service abilities and focus on my patron, forcing my eyes away from Aston.
Aston… I like his name, it sounds as strong, imposing and sexy as he looks; it is rather fitting.
“So… Charles, first things first, if you really want to spare yourself the wrath of your girlfriend you must tell me her exact size and pray you have it right.”
Charles smiles charmingly.
He is as handsome as his friend —the one I can’t stop staring at out of the corner of my eye— but in a smoother, pretty Californian-boy way.
My sister Jessica would swoon for his crystal blue eyes, his golden skin and shaggy blond hair, but not me.
I’m all for tall, rugged and dark, apparently. I didn’t know that about myself.
“So Chuck? Are you going to die tomorrow or not?” asks Aston with an impertinent half grin that makes me feel weak in the knees.
I’m actually surprise I still have knees to feel some weakness in: I was pretty sure they turned to Jell-O the second I saw him.
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br /> “I think I’m lucky. She was really thorough with her instructions: she is an extra small on the bottom and a 32B on the top.”
I nod. So this murder-prone lady is not soft and curvy: I will have to look for something special that would make her feel sexy.
“Is she very tall? Not compared with you two of course. I meant more like in a non-giant, normal human being way…”
Oh, my God! I’m blabbing. I’m fucking blabbing like a sixteen-year-old!
I have to get a grip on myself.
Aston and Charles exchange amused looks.
“I’d say she is fairly tall for a girl. What do you say, Chuck?”
“Yeah… she is about five-seven.”
Okay. So she is thin and way taller than me.
“Were you thinking about something in particular?” I ask.
For some reason Aston starts to chuckle softly.
Charles shakes his head a little and I can see he is a bit embarrassed. “The owner of this shop is actually an acquaintance of Louise and she told her that this week an exceptionally nice shipment was to arrive and well…”
I feel one of my eyebrow sweep up. “Yes?”
I’m getting the impression that this Louise is really something and definitely not something nice.
Charles clears his throat, scratching the back of his head. “She wants a piece from this new collection… if it is possible.”
Aston snorts disdainfully.
I smile. “Of course. I was just going through the new arrivals myself when you got here… that’s why I was in the back…”
Why am I saying this stuff?
I’m rambling, but I can’t’ help it. My brain is fuzzy like pink cotton-candy. All I can think about is walking around this counter and straight between the arms of this dashing stranger.
“I cannot show you the whole collection as I haven’t finished the inventory yet, but I’m sure we can find something for your girlfriend in one of the three boxes I’ve already opened.”
“That will be great.”
“Do you have any preference of color or—?” I ask.
Charles’s long huff interrupts me and I watch him shrug indifferently. “Not really. I’m completely in your hands.”
Aston looks away, an amused half-grin playing on his lips.
I frown. This guy sounds nothing like an earnest boyfriend to me and furthermore his friend doesn’t seem surprise at his attitude.
“Can you describe her coloring for me, please?”
Charles nods. “She has dark her like you and pale white skin.”
I see Aston’s eyes widen like his friend has said something outrageous.
He starts to shake his head. “Not quite like you… not even close. Her hair is much darker and not as glossy as yours and there’s no natural highlights in it and her complexion is sullen.”
Charles laughs while I feel myself blush even more at the indirect compliment.
“Ast! C’mon, you’re such a bastard,” he reprimands him, slapping his back.
Aston shrugs his broad shoulders and answers without taking his deep, penetrating eyes away from their intense study of my person.
“What? It’s the bloody truth and you know it.”
Charles looks at the ceiling. “You’re absolutely crazy when jet-lagged.”
“I’ll be back in a minute then,” I say and almost run back in the storage room to gather myself.
I’m one hot mess even though the only thing Aston has done was stare at me and speak a few words.
My mind can’t help but picture what the touch of his hands would feel like, but I force it back on track.
I have to think about my work. Think about lingerie and selling it to people, not about him.
I pick a few pieces in her size without much care, paying attention just to the appropriate color schemes: I go for dark blues, purples, and various nuances of red.
I’m not being very professional, I know, but if the customer doesn’t give a damn about his girlfriend why should I?
Plus, it’s not like I can actually function at my best while I tingle all over.
I stack the garments on my extended arms and walk back in the front, my body and mind in complete disarray. “Here… here… you go.”
I lie some articles on the counter and only then I realize that in the colorful, silky mix there is the same set I’m wearing under my dress, only in a rich burgundy shade.
As if reading my mind Aston’s hand goes immediately to the lacy bra in question; his long, squared fingers running over the sheer material carefully.
“This is exquisite,” he murmurs, his eyes again on mine.
Out of the blue, I feel like I’m in the middle of a heatwave or something.
Charles looks at the piece of lingerie absentmindedly. “Yes… very pretty. Do you have it in her size?”
I nod. “All the garbs I brought over are 32Bs.”
Something passes through Aston’s eyes and I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down slowly. “I’m pretty sure a 38DD would do this bra much more justice,” he mumbles.
What?
Can he see through my clothes or something?
Charles laughs and clouts his friend on one of his broad shoulders. “Aww man, now that’s some picture you put in my head! Do you know someone who could do the honours by any chance? Have you been keeping secrets from me?”
“Maybe,” Aston’s reply is so soft that I barely hear him, but his warm, dark gaze is leveled with mine.
I feel my stomach clench and my thighs come together firmly while a ticklish sensation makes itself known between them.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I tell him, playing seductress and hardly recognizing myself. “But unfortunately the only 38DD available is not for sale...”
“Really?” he rises one of his dark brown eyebrows and I see his lips twitch while he leans down the counter, standing a hair's breadth away from me.
“How intriguing,” he breathes out.
Of course his cologne has to be as scrumptious and masculine as the rest of him.
My heart stops for a moment. How can I feel a desire so devastating for a man I don’t even know?
What kind of game is he playing?
And… more importantly: what kind of game am I playing?
Chapter 5
ASTON
Charles reaches for the door, winking at Lara with one of his trademark surfer boy grins and all of a sudden I feel like I could throttle him, but that sensation is quickly overruled by the realization that above all I really don’t like the idea of leaving her presence.
What the fuck is going on with me?
I roam her features, searching for signs of distress and I can easily spot them in her big brown eyes: it makes me feel like I’m on top of the world and at the same time it tugs painfully at my heart; I can’t stand the thought of this perfect stranger being sad.
I want to protect her from everything and everyone, even from myself, but how can I feel this way?
I don’t know her.
“Well, once again: thanks for everything, Lara, you’re a treasure.”
Charles keeps on smiling at her and even if I know there’s nothing there and I’d trust my best friend with my life, when she smiles back at him, I don’t like it one bit.
“I can’t even begin to describe the kind of tantrum my girlfriend would have worked herself into, if it wasn't for you.”
“Don’t even mention it and… and,” she comes to a stop.
I see her biting her full upper lip and this time I feel a tug way lower than my chest.
I want to nibble on those succulent lips myself.
I clench my fists at my sides to stop my feet from taking a step closer to her.
I don’t know how she does this to me, but I’m getting even harder.
“And?” Charles encourages her.
She sighs and looks away for a moment. “Well,
this is totally inappropriate for me to say and I shouldn't, but it’s after-hours and you already completed your transaction, so I will say it. It’s none of my business, but… you seem a very nice guy, Charles. At first, I thought it was weird you didn't care much about the present, but from what you said, it looks like this Louise is a bit… you know what I mean.”
She makes a vague gesture with her hand.
I chuckle openly. She is so refreshing, so honest. I like that.
I nod my head, throwing a glance at Chuck. “Oh, he knows, he knows…”
Lara looks at her feet blushing and a beautiful pink hue spreads on her cheekbones. “Anyway… what I meant to say was… you should be with a nice girl.”
Charles gives a nod, laughing. “Care to point me in the right direction?” he asks and fucking smirks at me.
Smirks!
That dirty wanker!
She giggles softly and looks at him sideways. “Well, I just might, actually.”
My heart starts to thunder in my chest and I can’t breathe. This can’t be happening!
Lara smiles. “I have a sister and she is amazing…”
All the tension leaves my body at once.
What the bloody hell is going on with me?
I’m a fucking mess. The thought of her flirting with Charles or anybody else hurt so much!
“Do you now?” Charles full-on beams, waggling his eyebrows a bit. “If she is half as lovely as you, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lara laughs a little at that, but I can see a shyness in her attitude that tells me she doesn’t really believes the compliment.
Is she crazy?
Charles, on the other hand, has better knock it off with this crap if he doesn’t want to end up walking all the way home —twenty-seven blocks away.
How can a woman I’ve been in company with for less than an hour in the whole of my life, have this power over me?
I need to leave. Now.
I look at her one last time, even if I know I shouldn’t do it —I can’t stop myself— and then I move past Charles and I open the door.