10. Chapter Ten
chapter ten
. . .
Carter
I couldn't sleep.
Olivia's laugh echoed in my head. I tossed and turned, replaying every moment from Sister's Bar and Grill. The warmth of her thigh against mine. The way her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. The delicate vanilla scent of her perfume.
Fuck.
By 4 a.m., I gave up and dragged myself to my home gym. I pummeled the punching bag until my knuckles ached. But even as sweat dripped down my back and my muscles burned, I couldn't get her out of my head. I slammed the heel of my hand against my temple a few times in rapid succession, hoping to beat the thoughts of her out. But Olivia Friedman had wormed her way in, and there she remained.
Whatever this was, I needed to purge it from my system. My thoughts turned darker, more primal. I imagined her lying beneath me, her eyes glazed with desire as I thrust into her. The image was so vivid that my cock strained against my shorts, demanding release.
I groaned and pushed them down. My heart pounded as I gripped myself tightly, imagining her soft skin against mine. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the fantasy. Each stroke brought me closer to the edge, the tension building in my balls. Olivia's moans filled my ears as I pounded into her, our bodies entwined in a frenzy of passion.
I slammed my hips up, unleashing a torrent of cum all over my stomach. My body shuddered with pleasure as I rode the waves of my orgasm. The sensation was intense, a release of the pent-up tension and desire that had been building inside me for days.
Fuck, I needed that.
As I caught my breath, I couldn't help wondering what it would be like to make that fantasy a reality.
I showered and dressed, my movements mechanical as I prepared for the day ahead. Twenty minutes later, I settled at my desk, determined to focus on work. The community development project demanded my full attention. Lives depended on getting this right. I had no business mooning over my assistant like some lovesick puppy.
But as the minutes dragged by, I found my gaze drawn inexorably to the clock. 8:45 a.m. Olivia would arrive soon.
I rubbed the back of my neck, tension coiling beneath my skin. What the hell was wrong with me? I'd built my reputation on laser focus and unwavering dedication. And now I was getting distracted by a pair of warm hazel eyes and a sunshine smile.
The memory hit me out of nowhere, transporting me back to a conversation with my father after my mother's funeral.
“Son”—Dad's voice was hoarse, his eyes bloodshot from grief and whiskey—”I need you to listen to me.”
I nodded, my own pain a raw, gaping wound in my chest.
“Don't ever let yourself get too attached, son.” His grip on my shoulder was painful, his calloused fingers digging in like he wanted to physically imprint his words on my skin. “People will fuck you over six ways to Sunday. They'll leave, they'll die, they'll rip your goddamn heart out and stomp on it for good measure. Only way to survive in this world is to keep everyone at arm's length.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “But Dad, what about ? —”
“No buts.” He cut me off with a sharp shake of his head. “You want to end up like me? A broken-down old bastard with nothing but regrets and a bottle to keep him warm at night? Then you listen good. Keep your guard up. Push 'em away before they can get close enough to hurt you. It's the only way to keep breathing in this fucked up world.”
The ping of an incoming email banished the memory. I blinked, trying to shake off the lingering echoes of my father's warning.
The clock read 9:02 a.m. Where the hell was Olivia?
As if summoned by my thoughts, I heard the click of the back door opening. This was followed by the familiar tap of her heels on hardwood.
“Morning, Carter!” Her voice was full of its usual cheerfulness. “ Sorry I'm a couple minutes late. There was an accident on 3rd Street.”
I looked up, my breath catching in my throat. Olivia stood in the doorway, a vision in a deep purple wrap dress that caressed her curves. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, and a hint of color stained her cheeks.
“No problem,” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended. “Traffic's been hell lately with all the construction.”
Olivia nodded, setting her bag down at her desk. “Tell me about it. I swear, the seasons in Ohio are”—she began ticking them off on her fingers—”almost winter, winter, still winter, and construction.”
I snorted. “You're not wrong.”
She flashed me a proud grin and my stomach jumped into my throat, like I’d missed a step going down the stairs.
We slipped into our usual routine, a quiet productive hum filling the air. Olivia effortlessly fielded calls and emails. I buried myself in blueprints and project timelines, stealing glances at her when I thought she wasn't looking.
Around 11 a.m., I noticed her shifting in her chair, a slight crease between her brows. She reached for her lower back, massaging it discreetly. I told myself it was none of my business, but when she did it again a few minutes later, I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“You okay?”
She looked up, startled. “Oh, I'm fine. Just a little stiff.”
I frowned, unconvinced. We worked in silence for a while longer, the only sounds the click of keys and the occasional rustle of papers. But still something wasn’t right. Finally, I rose from my chair and approached her desk. “Olivia?”
She looked up, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “Yes?”
I hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject. “Is everything okay? You seem... I don't know. Off.”
Her eyes widened. A flicker of alarm crossed her face before she schooled her features into a pleasant expression. “I'm fine, Carter. Really.”
“Bullshit.” She flinched. I took a breath and softened my tone. “Look, I'm not trying to pry. But if something's wrong, if you need help...”
She was quiet for a long moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “It's... complicated.”
I crossed my arms and perched on her desk. “I've got time.”
Olivia took a shaky breath and twisted her fingers in her lap. “For the last few years, I’ve had chronic pain in my”—she gestured toward her lap—”lady bits. Some days are better than others...”
She trailed off, her cheeks flushing pink. I was consumed by a rush of protectiveness, mixed with a healthy dose of rage at whatever cruel twist of fate had saddled her with such pain.
“Shit, Olivia. I'm sorry.” The words were inadequate, but I didn't know what else to say.
She shrugged, her mouth twisting in a wry smile. “It is what it is. I've learned to manage it, for the most part.”
“Is there anything that helps?” I asked, desperate to do something, anything, to ease her suffering.
Her smile softened. “Pete helps a lot, actually. Just having him around, it's comforting. ”
I nodded, an idea forming. “Bring him.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Pete. Bring him to work with you. If he helps, then he should be here.”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious? You'd let me bring my dog to work?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool even as my heart raced. “Why not? My house, my rules. If Pete helps you feel better, then he's welcome here.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and I panicked, convinced I'd said the wrong thing. But then she smiled, a brilliant, unrestrained smile that took my breath away.
“Carter, I... Thank you. That means so much.”
I thrust my hands into my pockets, uncomfortable with the intensity of emotion swirling between us. “It's nothing. Oh, and I have a friend—Mel. She's an OB/GYN. An expert in her field, but she takes a more holistic approach to medicine. I can give her a call, see if she can fit you in.”
“You'd do that for me?”
I shrugged again, avoiding her gaze. “It's no big deal.”
But it was a big deal. I was in deep, deep shit. Despite my father's warnings and my own iron-clad rules about keeping people at arm's length, I was falling for Olivia. Hard and fast and with no hope of stopping. And I had no fucking clue what to do about it.