Chapter 7

Carter

“And there you have it,” I say, holding my arms out and welcoming June to everything my penthouse has to offer. “Home sweet home.”

“It looks like a set from a movie,” June breathes, staring wide-eyed as she takes it all in. “You actually live here?”

I shrug. “I spend a lot of my time at the office.”

I can see June’s shoulders slump forward, as if being here in my apartment makes her physically uncomfortable.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

Her cheeks go pink as she shakes her head. “No, not exactly. It’s just…” She looks up at me, biting her lower lip. “I’m afraid I’m going to mess this place up just by being here.”

I can’t help it. She’s so fucking cute when she looks all anxious like this. I can’t even imagine a place in the world that wouldn’t be improved by her presence.

But I don’t tell her that.

Instead, I put my hand around her waist and usher her in, relishing the way the flare of her hip feels beneath my fingers.

“I’ve got an excellent housekeeper,” I assure her. “Relax.”

My words seem to have little impact on her. In fact, I feel as if the news of a housekeeper makes her only tenser. Her upper body seems stiffer than before, and she seems terribly reluctant to move.

She leaves her shoes by the door. I watch her cross the large living space carefully, on tiptoes. She actually stops halfway and performs a couple of pirouettes.

She spins and spins and spins until she stops again and looks around.

“Look at all the space you’ve got.” She waves her arms around. “You could fit an entire herd of cows in here.”

I grimace. A cow in my apartment—an absurd notion, but her smile warms my heart. It’s the first time I’ve known a woman to do this to me.

Okay, it’s the first time in a long time I’ve known a woman to have this effect on me at all.

Usually, I don’t care for all the crap women go on with—the charm they put on, the blinking of the eyes and the forced smile.

But it turns out June is nothing like the other women I’m used to.

I’m beginning to learn real fucking fast—June is June.

June is definitely hard working, and smart, but a little too headstrong. She needs a bit of work.

“Ahem,” I clear my throat and take my eyes off her ass.

It’s the cutest ass I’ve ever seen on a woman.

June turns toward me. She’s breathing a little harder, a little worn out from her spinning. “I don’t think I can sit down anywhere unless you have a crate or something,” she starts and her eyes scan the room. “Are those real, or is it a work of art?”

My gaze follows her finger. She’s pointing at my state-of-the-art suspended staircase. It goes up straight, has a landing, turns and then goes up straight again.

“They’re actually stairs to the upper level,” I explain. I hesitate for a moment before continuing. “That’s where the bedrooms are.”

Her eyes widen. She looks good enough to eat. I need to use every ounce of self-control to stop myself going over to her, grabbing her, and taking her up those stairs so we can fuck.

Patience.

Self-control.

Timing.

I can’t fuck her now. She’s hasn’t signed the contract.

Heck, so far, she’s only agreed to think about it. And that was how long ago? I glance at my watch. About five hours ago, she agreed to think about.

It occurs to me she has not said how long she needs to think about it. Should I press her now? Should I demand an answer immediately?

My instincts advise against it. Generally, my instincts are never wrong. Sure, there’s been the occasional times my instinct has led me astray...but I don’t dwell on those.

When you’re as successful as me, one bad decision is hardly worth dwelling on.

Like anyone else, I’ve got skeletons in the closest, but I don’t care to go there right now. It’s shut—and I prefer to keep it that way.

“Can I see?” June’s voice brings my attention back to the here and now.

“See what?” I ask. I’ve lost track of what we were talking about.

Her right hand points upwards. “The upstairs.”

Is it her cheeks turning that gorgeous shade of pink that make her look even more delicious?

I take a step closer. Yep, that’s part of it.

“Sure,” I hesitate. “I guess you don’t have...” I trail off.

It’s obvious she hasn’t got a fucking thing.

There are no open shops nearby so I’ll have to think of some emergency plan. Since I never entertain women in my penthouse, I don’t have any spare clothing for her.

I sigh.

“Let’s go,” I invite her to head up before me.

She grins.

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” she says, staying where she is. “You go first—I don’t need you checking me out as I climb the stairs in my skirt.”

Hearing her words makes my bottom jaw drop. She really is something else. What a cheeky fucking thing to say.

There’s nothing backwards about June Johnson from the country.

“I don’t know what the guys in your neck of the woods get up to, but here we have better manners than to...”

What’s the use? I can tell she’s not going to move.

Swearing under my breath, I walk up the stairs ahead of her.

As I pass her, our hands touch ever so slightly. I notice her pull her hand away quickly and rub the spot where we touched. Her cheeks redden even more.

My own hand is reveling in the feel of her soft, smooth skin. I try and think of a reason to do that again, but I draw a blank.

“Now don’t you perve on my ass,” I say as my parting shot.

June laughs.

Again, a strange sensation envelops me. Is it joy, happiness, or something different altogether? Whatever it is, the feeling is a new experience for me.

No. No. No.

There’s no fucking way I’m going to be lead into temptation. I won’t fall for the trap. Until we’ve got a baby contract, I’m not taking any chances.

I know that the minute I put my fucking cock into her pussy, she’s going to fall pregnant. It’s a gut feeling, but it’s one I know to be two fucking hundred percent correct.

There is no way I’m giving in.

When June joins me upstairs, I can see how tired she looks.

A tiny spark of guilt creeps in—there’s no doubt I’ve contributed to that weary look. Maybe if I hadn’t worked her so hard, then...

I stop myself from going further down that road. Another useless train of thought—the goddamn concept of if.

She stands so close, I can feel her warm breath on my neck. Goosebumps crawl down my back. My cock’s threatening to take over and send my brain on an extended vacation.

Again.

There’s trying times ahead.

“There are three bedrooms up here,” I start and turn right. If I don’t put some distance between us, I might just jump on her, here and now. “There’s one down here. And the other two are at the other end.”

June is rooted to the spot.

“Where will I sleep?”

Worry, concern, and maybe a hint of anxiety are reflected in her face.

“Don’t worry, you’ve got your own room for the night. It’s down the other end.”

I watch her nod slowly. For some reason, she’s still not moving. Her eyes shift from my face down her own body.

“Yes,” I say, scratching my head. I think I know what she’s thinking. “I’ll get you one of my shirts to wear for the night.”

My hand plays with her collar, pretending to smooth it out. When she flinches a little, I drop it.

If I thought she was going to be overjoyed and shower me with gratitude, I’m wrong. There are no arms being flung around my body, nor is she showering me with kisses. Instead, I think I can see a tiny tear trickle down her cheek.

Without another word, I head into my room and grab a shirt.

Still wordless, I hand it to her.

“This way.”

She follows me in silence.

“Are you hungry? There’s a resident cook. I can order us anything. Steak, pie, fried chicken...you name your poison, and I’ll get it for you.”

June shakes her head.

I open the door to her room and watch her walk in. Once she’s inside, she stops and turns back toward me.

“I’m not hungry,” she says, and I notice her eyes taking in every bit of detail. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

Being the sensitive, smart kind of guy I am, I get the hint.

She wants to be alone. Maybe she just needs a bit of space to freshen up, have a shower, and put on the clean shirt.

“There’s an en suite in your room with a shower and fresh towels,” I call over my shoulder while leaving the room.

It’s a relief to put some distance between this sex goddess and me.

She’s got so much sex appeal that if I could capture it and sell it, I’d triple my net worth in a matter of months.

Or days. Seriously.

At the top of the stairs, I hesitate. Should I go back and make sure she’s alright?

I shake my head. It would be under false pretenses, and I’ve already crossed the bridge and promised myself a clear, mental no to fucking her before she signs the contract.

I don’t need a fucking baby running around without a contract.

After some more fucking internal wrestling, I decide to order some food.

Twenty minutes later, a large silver tray laden with delicacies is being brought into my penthouse apartment.

Even after receiving the food, it takes me another two minutes before I head back upstairs. I’m going to knock on June’s door and tell her she’s got to eat. Any employee of mine—not to mention the mother of my future baby—must eat properly.

I bet she hasn’t eaten all day.

After taking two steps at a time up the stairs and walking with a bit too much fucking enthusiasm down the hallway, I find myself outside the door of the spare room.

I lean forward and am about to knock when I hear a strange sound.

My brow furrows. What’s that sound, and where’s it coming from? Gingerly, I lean forward and press my ear against the door.

It’s coming from inside the room.

It takes me several seconds to figure out what the noise is. It’s not the television, nor is it the sound of rain.

It’s June sobbing.

The sound hits me hard. It rattles me to my fucking bones.

I need to do something about it. I don’t care if she wants my help or not, she’s going to get it anyway.

I don’t bother fucking knocking. I barge right in.