25. Lara

Chapter 25

Lara

N orcaster’s famous bread and butter pudding is sitting untouched in front of me. Not because I don’t want it—I have the world’s biggest sweet tooth, of course I want it—but because I can’t stop gnawing on the inside of my cheek, anxious as hell about what I said to Carter.

“I don’t need you to be a gentleman.”

It was hours ago now, but I can’t let it go. What was I thinking? Honestly, I don’t know if I was thinking at all, and that’s the problem. This is the exact reason I tend to overthink things on a regular basis; underthink, and I’ll say something like “I don’t need you to be a gentleman” to the one person I probably shouldn’t say that to.

The pudding remains untouched for the remainder of the evening. I’m engrossed in casual conversation with our dinner guests whilst also trying to sneak subtle glances at Carter.?

Every nerve ending in my body is on high alert with him beside me all night. For the most part, we don’t touch, which only makes the small grazes of his trousered leg against my bare thigh even more unbearable.

Dinner is long but enjoyable, filled with too much food and a few too many wines, at least in some cases. A short while later, we’re making the short walk to the B I was just raised right. A woman should never be made to walk on the side closest to the road.”

There he goes, calling me love so nonchalantly again. What the fuck is his deal?

“Well, well, I suppose chivalry isn’t dead after all. It’s merely living in London in a suit.”

Illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights, Carter offers me a bemused smile before playfully nudging me on the shoulder.

“Watch out, Miss Matthews, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

I nudge him right back, unable to stop my growing grin. “I assure you it wasn’t, so don’t let it inflate that already huge ego of yours.”

With a shake of his head, Carter ushers me to continue with his hand on my lower back once more. Not that I’m keeping track, but this is the fourth time in less than 24 hours that Carter’s hand has found its way onto my body. Like the first time, I’m lit up from the inside out, as if his touch has sparked a flame beneath my skin.

It’s almost midnight as we arrive at the B my feet are beginning to ache from the walk back. I’m three steps in when my small heel catches in the carpet, causing me to stumble

Carter’s strong arms wrap around my waist, holding tight, and I grab behind me at the first thing I make contact with. Given the rock solidness, it seems I’ve anchored myself to his thighs. Thank god I didn’t reach any higher, or it would be incredibly uncomfortable for the both of us. Although, I’ve fantasised for weeks about how he’d feel beneath my fingers, so it wouldn’t be that uncomfortable.

It feels like several minutes pass by before I realise I’m practically groping his thighs. Righting myself, I turn around to face the man who probably thinks I’m as coordinated as a newborn foal.

I flash him a small grin. I’m a step above him, which makes us almost directly face-to-face. It’s only now I realise he’s still got a firm grip on my waist despite the fact I’m steady once more.?

I make a pointed glance at where his body connects with mine. “You can let go now. I’m fine on my own two feet.”

His gaze shifts, following my own. His fingers flex against me, but still he doesn’t break contact. The skin beneath his fingertips is burning up.

With each breath I take, they become shorter, almost ragged. There’s a low, desperate hum vibrating throughout my body, like a volcano on the brink of exploding, waiting for one small spark to set it off.

“In my defence, that’s twice now.” His voice is low, taking on a commanding tone. “I think perhaps you enjoy having me catch you, like some sort of damsel in distress.”

Any other time, a comment like that would have my eyes rolling until they hurt. But right now, that would be ingenuine. And the way he’s looking at me, like he can see right through me, keeps me honest.

“I’m no damsel, Carter, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy being caught by you.”

I stay quiet as I search his eyes for any hint of disinterest. Considering the man has been pushing my buttons for weeks and displayed a dangerous mix of chivalry and flirtation today, I figure the chances are slim.

The deep green pools staring back at me probably reflect what Carter sees in my own; desire and need—on the precipice of losing all control.

As my search comes up empty, two words ring out in my mind.

Fuck it.

Placing my weight on my toes, I lean forward and connect my lips to his.??

For a moment, neither of us move. I’ve never had a kiss this still. Slowly, I reach a hand up to cup his cheek, desperate to feel his stubble beneath my fingertips. The small movement acts like a tripwire, and Carter comes to life.

Still keeping his hands firmly on my waist, he pulls back. Not much, but enough to see my face.?

“What was that for?”

He’s seriously questioning this? Good grief, this man is impossible. I’m struggling to discern how he feels, concerned I’ve somehow got it all wrong. That is, until he continues gazing into my eyes, his own softening ever so slightly.

“Do you have objections?” I raise a brow at him, daring him to tell me he doesn’t want this. There’s still a small part of me fearing I’ve read this entire thing wrong, but there’s a larger part telling me to own it like the badass woman I aspire to be.

A smirk ghosts his lips. “No objections here; I’m merely hoping this isn’t the wine acting on your behalf.”

I’m momentarily stunned by his admission, by the fact he’d be less inclined to continue this if alcohol were behind it.

“Carter, I’d been drinking non-alcoholic wine since the second glass.”

I revel in the way his pupils react to this; solid proof I made the right move. His eyes flare as heat emanates from them.

“I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to continue what you started in the stockroom.”

“Lara, you only had to ask, and I’d have dropped everything for you.”

Before I get the chance to let a statement like that take over my thoughts, Carter returns his lips to mine, cutting off any chance of overthinking.

Blood thumps heavily against the artery in my neck, but there’s a hitch in its steady flow as a thought occurs to me: that was the first time our lips have touched. It seems unbelievable, almost ridiculously so. The feeling of his lips on mine is somehow more familiar than any kiss that’s come before.

The barely-there stubble is rough against my skin. A small moan elicits from deep within at the reminder of that feeling between my thighs. Carter nips at my bottom lip, spurred on by the sound, before smoothing his tongue over it.

Teeth and tongues fight each other for dominance. Carter sucks my tongue into his mouth, and I retaliate by latching onto his bottom lip and dragging my teeth across it. A sonorous growl flows from Carter’s mouth into my own, the low hum wreaking havoc on my body. My legs threaten to bottom out beneath me, my breathing kicks up a notch in both speed and intensity, and my pussy attempts a vice grip on nothing but the sounds emanating from him.

Not a moment too soon, Carter snakes one hand around me and further up my back, planting itself firmly between my shoulder blades. My skin heats immediately at the contact, burning beneath his touch. His other hand slides up the column of my neck and rests gently against my wild pulse.?

He must feel the way the blood pulses beneath his fingertips in answer to his unspoken question. Carter applies the slightest amount of pressure around the front of my throat in return, and I swear I see Heaven.?

This is bad, this is very bad. We should not be doing this, and it should not feel this good.

It’s just a kiss Lara, snap out of it. You’ve had plenty of excellent kisses; this is simply another tally on the scoreboard.

Of course he’s a great kisser; he’s had plenty of practice. So many women, even more kisses.

It’s as though time stands still whilst our lips are pressed to one another’s. The world simply ceases to exist outside of Carter. His tongue tangles with my own, fighting for dominance once more.

I let out a groan, but it’s cut short by the sound of voices entering the inn’s foyer. We break apart. Carter’s wide eyes and heavy breathing match my own.

“We should probably move.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with you.”?

Our lips find each other again not a moment later.