15. Carter

Chapter 15

Carter

I t’s been fourteen days since I tasted Lara, fourteen days since I learnt the sound of her moans. It’s been fourteen days since I was last able to think straight.?

From the moment she sat, I haven’t had a single clear thought. Instead, I’ve mused over all the ways in which I can get myself between her thighs once more and finish what we started.

It’s early, too early, but I’m already sitting in my office and have been for at least half an hour. A restless sleep last night led me to go for a run before dawn to clear my mind. It worked during the run, but the second I walked into the building, all thoughts went to Lara.?

I found myself wondering more and more about previously unimportant details about her, like what she’d be wearing, how her night had been, and if she’d have on her signature scent—the delicate raspberry and rose aroma that invades my nostrils whenever I enter the bookshop, similar to the way Lara herself invades my thoughts. I’m glad Dex isn’t in yet; the arsehole would be giving me an absolute earful if he could see the way I’m pining like a lovesick fool.

Although I’ve seen her since the stockroom excitement, we haven’t touched each other like that since. There have been small touches here and there though, which I’ve been painfully fucking aware of.

I’d said something funny last week, and she’d placed a hand on my bicep while laughing in a way that had heat rising in my chest. Her face lit up so beautifully that it almost took my breath away. It was clear she was unaware of the captivating picture she made.

Lara probably hadn’t thought much of it, but I certainly had. Anyone who may have overheard our exchanges for the remainder of my time in the bookshop would’ve had good reason to think I was trying to become a stand-up comedian.

The week before, we’d both reached for a book at the same time, and her fingertips grazed mine. It sounds awfully cliche, but bloody hell , it affected me far more than a simple touch should.

Keeping my thoughts from straying to that alluring woman is getting harder by the day, especially when sitting alone at my desk. Too many salacious ideas run rampant when I eye the edge of my desk—Lara bent over it, sat on it, spread open on it. I might be the CEO, but I wouldn’t put it past Anna to fire me on the spot if I acted on any of those ideas.

Almost as if she knew I was thinking about her, an email from Anna pops up.?

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: EA Update

Morning boss,

Quick update on the assistant front - I interviewed a few more yesterday, but unfortunately none seemed suitable. Majority of the applicants have been quite young, and a little too immature for the role. A few seemed more interested in knowing if the “pretty CEO” (their words, I assure you) was the executive they’d be assisting.?

I have a few more lined up this week, so hopefully one is the perfect fit.?

Kind Regards,

Anna Taylor

Head of Human Resources | J. L. instead, opting to help my brother with his newly acquainted baby daughter, they decided the narrative.

At the end of the day, I didn’t care what the general public thought of me, as long as it kept the attention off Teddy. My family, the firm—under strict NDAs—and those closest to me knew the truth, and that was enough.

I’ve spent the last four years keeping up the ruse in the public eye. Do I regret it? Occasionally, but only because of the ramifications on my personal life. If I had my time over though, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Since then, the tabloids have known me as the player of the British Law World, which means women know me the same way. I’ve been on many dates over the years, all of which were photographed, of course, but the women I dated saw me as nothing more than a good-looking man in an expensive suit.

Not that I particularly minded; I spent a lot of that time seeing myself the same way and still do to an extent. But now, having taken over the firm, I wonder if I can make them see me as more. I wonder if Lara could see me as more.

The thought stops me in my tracks in a way that’s almost comedic as I make my way through reception. It continues to rattle me how deeply this woman has invaded my thoughts and clouded my brain.

I’m trying my best not to burn myself on the baking tray when the music cuts out, and my sister’s incoming call is announced.?

“What took you so long?” Emmy sounds miles away from the phone as I answer. Placing her on speaker, I successfully remove the tray from the oven, sans third-degree burns. My mother may have had me baking from a young age, but I never quite mastered the art of safely removing things from the oven.

“Hello to you too, little one.” I smile to myself at the smug tone of my voice. My sister despises it when I refer to her as ‘little one’; something I’ve done since we were kids.

“Carter John Lawrence.” It’s never a good thing when she uses my full name. “Believe it or not, I’m actually calling for a serious reason.”

“You’ve certainly piqued my interest, Emilia James.” I listen a little more intently whilst continuing to tidy up my disaster zone of a kitchen after baking. A muffled “god, you’re insufferable” comes through the phone, and I hold back the smile pulling at my lips.?

Memories surface of all the times Lara has called me the same thing. Being called insufferable isn’t exactly on my list of goals, but I can’t deny the ridiculous flutter in my stomach every time she says it; proud of myself for eliciting a strong reaction from her.

“Are you even listening to me?” Emmy’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“Honestly? No. I’m sorry, I was somewhere else entirely. Could you please repeat that?”

Emmy lets out a sigh before continuing. “Oh, it wasn’t anything vital, just how I may have found you the perfect assistant.”?

Stars appear in my vision from the speed at which I whip my head around. My brows draw together as I glance at my phone.

“By all means, please continue, dear sister.”

I swear I hear the way her eyes roll. My sister has always had a bit of a dramatic flare, and rolling her eyes is something she does plenty when it comes to our conversations.

“Truly, there isn’t much else to share. I won’t tell you her name, in case she doesn’t interview well, because quite frankly, you’d never let me live it down. But I’m positive she’s the right fit.”

I set free a small chuckle when I hear the smile in my sister’s tone. It has me even more intrigued—I wonder who she’s referring to?

Seemingly reading my thoughts in that comfortable way, she always has, Emmy adds, “You don’t know her, so I wouldn’t bother trying to figure it out.”

Not unsurprising when it comes to my sister; she’s known to be quite a sociable person. Her job at the bar emphasises this. Emmy is constantly telling us at family dinner about new friends she’s made at work, and they’re often colourful characters, to say the least. Is this “perfect fit” one of those friends?

Due to a schedule clash, my trip to the bookstore this week is earlier than usual.

The first thing I notice when walking into the store is an absence—there’s no Lara.

Curiosity gets the better of me. “Where’s the lovely Lara this morning?”

The smile Riss flashes my way is a little too mischievous for my liking, but I let it slide. I’ve found it’s best not to question her motives.

Riss proceeds to tell me Lara had somewhere to be this morning and that she’d be in later. It’s hard to ignore the slight drop in my shoulders as if my body itself is disappointed by this news. I’m caught off guard when Riss asks, “Something the matter, dear?”

“Oh no, everything is splendid.” Glancing around the room, it’s as if I need to prove it myself that she isn't here. I wonder where she is? “It’s been great seeing you Riss, but I better head out.”

After giving Riss a quick goodbye hug, I’m back on my motorbike. I’m struggling to process why I care quite so much that Lara wasn’t there. Yes, I went down on her in possibly one of the hottest encounters of my life. Yes, she’s been a constant in my mind since that encounter. Yes, she tasted like the sort of meal you’d request as your last. But none of that means I should care this much.

For the duration of the trip back to the office, one question is bouncing around my mind: what the fuck has gotten into me?