8. Carter
Carter
C arter 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 only 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 scenes 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 ballbusters, 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 court shoes weren’t very high, three inches 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 containers 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 money 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 flung 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 drawer 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.