Carter
“Where the hell is she?” I walked into Ford’s office with Emma’s panties in my pocket.
She’d run from me. Scared. I should have anticipated that, but I’d fucked up. I’d let her slip through my fingers. Should have told her what I felt for her. Why she was the only woman I'd ever taken into my home, into my bed. She thought I'd wanted a one-night-stand, that I'd fuck her and forget. Hell, even take her virginity and then walk away. She'd given it to me and I did not take that lightly. Apparently, she was under the misconception otherwise. It was time to set things right.
What we shared had been wild and dirty. Steamy hot. But it had also been… special. The connection we shared was unlike anything I'd ever felt before with any woman. I didn't just eat her out, I memorized her taste. I didn't just take her virginity, I watched her, listened to her and learned what made her hot, what made her cry out my name. What made her come on a fucking scream.
She'd fallen asleep a sweaty, panting mess, well satisfied and definitely no longer a virgin. Why she fled when it was so good between us was something I'd have to find out.
She said she had a meeting at nine. It was nine-fifteen, Ford was in his office and a woman I didn’t recognize was sitting at Emma’s desk.
What. The. Fuck?
If Emma thought she was going to get away from me that easily, she was in for the shock of her life.
Ford looked up from the report in his hand to inspect me. He looked like he always did, like an uptight prick. Which he was. If anyone needed to get laid, it was my brother. He looked like me, with lighter brown hair, milk chocolate instead of dark, green eyes instead of my brown, and our father’s scowl on his face. His eyes bored into me with the keen intelligence that had led our company since our father’s retirement two years ago. Ford was a merciless, brilliant asshole, and the Buchanan family counted on that fact every damn day. In fact, I often tried to emulate him. But right now, I was not in the mood to play games.
“Who?”
“Emma.”
“Oh.” Ford’s dismissive tone matched his expression and he returned his attention to the paperwork in front of him like I wasn’t standing in his office with my dick in my hand. “Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
My brother didn’t bother to look up. “She’s at a meeting. Miller and Walsh. Two blocks down, shiny building on the right.”
“I know where their office is.” We’d been doing business with them for over a decade. Good god, was my brother purposely being an obtuse ass or was he blind? I sank down into the chair opposite Ford and put my feet up on his desk, just to piss him off. I slammed my heels, good and hard, on the polished wood to get his fucking attention. “Why is she there?”
Ford’s jaw clenched as he looked at my shoes on his sacred antique mahogany, but he put the fucking piece of paper down and looked at me. “She’s meeting her new financial team.”
“Why do you have a financial team at Miller and Walsh?”
Ford rolled his eyes and slowly smiled. Women tossed panties at him because of that smile. He didn't do it often, so that damn grin made me nervous. “I don’t.” Ford leaned over his desk, his arms crossed and resting on the paperwork spread out over his desk. “Why are you so interested in Miss Sanders’ whereabouts?”
“Because she’s mine,” I admitted it readily, especially since she'd been in my bed and I claimed her. The only thing left to finalize that was to forego the condom and fill her with my seed. Marking her with my scent.
Ford grunted. “Really?”
“Yes, really. She’s mine, Ford.” My brother opened his mouth, no doubt to lecture me, but I shoved my hand in front of him to cut him off. “Don’t fucking lecture me on company policy or any of that bullshit. She’s mine.”
Silence filled his office as we stared each other down. I wasn’t backing off. Not on this.
“Emma Sanders gave notice on Monday,” Ford said, his tone even, completely unlike mine. “She is, at this very moment, at a meeting with her new transition team at Miller and Walsh.”
“She quit?” She'd never mentioned it. But, she hadn't said all that much besides “more” and “please” and my name after I'd gotten her panties off. We hadn't had that much time for pillow talk with her walking out and all.
“She did,” Ford confirmed. “Her work here was only temporary. Being my secretary isn't a career job for her. She's too smart for that. She was only sticking around until she finished her master’s.”
Yeah, she was too fucking smart to be Ford's paper-pusher forever. Knowing she'd had a plan all along, that she had her head on straight, only made me admire her more.
Shit. I was a selfish prick because I wanted her just one floor down, not two blocks away. Two blocks. I could live with that, as long as she came home to me every night.
Ford leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers. “What’s going on between you and Emma?”
“I’m going to marry her, that’s what’s going on.”
Ford laughed like a bachelor who didn't have his heart—and his dick—in knots for one particular woman. “Does she know that?”
“No.”
He laughed harder and I flipped him off as I stood and walked out of his office. “But she will.”
I got the hell out of there, completely uninterested in being around if Emma wasn’t. I’d already cleared my schedule with Tori yesterday after I’d heard Emma’s plans to get laid. My plan had been to take her home, seduce her and convince her to stay. She wasn’t supposed to run scared at the crack of dawn. No. She was supposed to be in my bed all damn day where I could tell her I wanted her, forever, pamper her with kisses, and fill her with my cock.
* * *
Emma
As soon as I walked through the door, I kicked off my heels, stripped out of my navy suit and swapped it for a pair of yoga pants and a faded university t-shirt. Using a washcloth, I wiped away my makeup, wiped away the long day. I'd done it. It was official. I was a Junior Finance Assessor.
I'd looked forward to the day I'd start my real job for months, the job that was the first rung on the corporate ladder. A job as a financial investigator. I wanted to find discrepancies and solve them. I liked numbers and figuring out problems and the job they offered me was just what I'd hoped for. And more. I could pay off my loans while doing exactly what made me happy. Landing the role at the prestigious Miller and Walsh only made the excitement that much better.
As I rinsed the cloth and laid it over the edge of the sink, my mind veered away from my new job to Carter. The night we shared. The aching between my thighs. I'd barely been able to shift in my chair at the orientation without being reminded of what we'd done. I may have walked out of his house, but he'd been with me all day.
I'd gotten exactly what I'd wanted. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I wondered if anyone could tell I was no longer a virgin. Pulling my hair back, I tied it up into a sloppy ponytail. I didn't look different. I definitely felt different. My pussy was sore, deep inside, but I didn't mind. If that was all I could take with me of Carter, then it was worth it. The ache in my body would fade. But the one in my heart wouldn't. Not for a good long while. It was good timing then, that we wouldn't be in the same building any longer. Seeing him every day, seeing him with other women, would slowly kill me.
So I put on my big girl panties and accepted last night for what it was. A one-night-stand. I now knew what it was like to be fucked. Considering stories I’d listened to my girlfriends tell, I was lucky in that Carter had been good. Not just good, he'd been incredible. But he'd also been sweet about it. There were so many things I loved about Carter, especially being held in his arms all night. I'd liked that… a lot.
That was why my heart hurt… a lot. For me, one night wasn't enough. I was the kind of girl who wanted more. The house, the kids, the dog, the minivan even. I wanted it all with Carter, but I was kidding myself. I rolled my eyes at myself in the mirror.
Carter Buchanan in a minivan tossing Cheerios to a cranky two-year-old? As if.
Switching off the light, I walked down the hall to open a bottle of wine. I deserved a glass… or a bottle. The doorbell had me veering to the front door. I peeked through the peephole and I swore my heart stopped beating.
“I know you're there, Emma,” he said through the door.
Why was he here? One-night-stands didn't just show up on your doorstep. That would defeat the purpose of the name.
Taking a deep breath, I flipped the deadbolt and opened the door.
God, he looked good. Today he wore a bespoke black suit with a crisp white shirt, pale blue tie. His outfit cost more than my run-down car. His gaze raked over me from my hot pink toenails on up.
“I like this look,” he commented.
Oh shit. Yoga pants, old t-shirt, no makeup, sloppy hair. It was the least romantic look on the planet. Instead of groaning, I said, “What are you doing here?”
“Taking you to dinner. Hopefully.”
“Dinner?”
“You finished your degree and got a new job. It's definitely worth celebrating.”
“Carter, I'm not dressed to go out.”
He stepped closer and I backed up, then realized I'd never invited him in.
When he stepped inside, he looked around. “Nice place. Suits you.”
I'd kept the walls white, but added bright spots of color with throw pillows and posters. There was only so much you could do to a rental, but now with my new job, I could start saving for an apartment of my own.
“Thanks. Carter, I—”
My words cut off when his dark eyes met mine. There was more in those dark eyes than a graduation dinner.
“Go to dinner with me. Not because of your job, but because you want to.” When I just stared at him, my mouth open, he continued. “I want you to.”
The way he said it had my resolve slipping.
“I'm not dressed for dinner.” I pointed at his suit.
Without another word, he tugged at the knot on his tie, loosened it and slipped it from his head, undid the top button of his shirt. Shrugged off his jacket and slug it, along with the tie, over his arm.
“There. And you look… perfect, by the way.” His eyes heated, but also held something else I didn't recognize. “We'll go to the diner. Just say yes.”
I wanted to, so, so badly. But with Carter came baggage, tons of it. A one night stand was one thing, but even though I wanted more with him, I knew him. I knew his lifestyle. His women. I wanted him so badly it hurt to breathe, but I also knew the facts. Carter would break me into a million little pieces if I let him. Last night convinced me of that. If I let him touch me again, I was doomed. I was too weak to be with him and not fall in love with him. Hell, it was too late for me already. I knew it. But that didn’t mean I was a masochist either. I knew how this would end and I couldn't compromise where my heart was concerned.
“Dinner. Come on.” His smile came out then. The big guns. “You have to eat.”
I rolled my eyes. That fucking smile. It so wasn’t fair. “Fine.”
I agreed, but only so I could tell him I couldn’t see him again. That was not a conversation I wanted to have in the privacy of my home with a big, soft bed so temptingly nearby.
He waited as I slipped on some shoes and grabbed my purse, locked up, then helped me into the car. I was cocooned in the supple interior with the distinct scent of leather and, of course, Carter.
He slid into the driver's seat and put the car in gear, wrapped his hands around the steering wheel.
I knew what those fingers could do, how dexterous they were. I shifted in the seat and could not stop glancing at him from the corner of my eye. God, he was sex on a stick. In just his dress shirt, the linen molded perfectly to his broad shoulders, thick biceps. I’d been discreetly studying his rock hard body every day for the last ten months, but never without a suit jacket. The company gym was on the second floor, and I often had to track him down there. Gym shorts and a tight, sweat-soaked t-shirt were a good look on him, and more than once I’d had to turn away as I spoke to him, afraid the urge to lick him up and down would show on my face.
But now I knew what he looked like naked, what he felt like.
He drove for a few minutes in silence. I had no idea what to say. I looked like a slob and felt so far out of his league. I didn’t even know why I was here, in his stupid car. Dinner. God, this… delusion was just stupid. It wasn’t like this was going to go anywhere and dinner was just going to make it even harder to walk away. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized this was a big mistake. Huge. Nothing good could come from letting my desire, my stupid hope, linger.
I shifted in my seat, annoyed now with the wetness I could still feel coating my inner thighs, the ache in my pussy that was from more than just his cock the night before. I was wet and ready for him. Again. Damn it. Why did it have to be Carter? Why couldn’t I have the hots for Dave in accounting? He was single, not bad looking, and only a year older than me. That would make more sense. But this? This was just crazy.
I sighed and shifted my legs, trying to ignore the scent of Carter’s cologne. But it seemed to infiltrate my body like an aphrodisiac, making me think about touching Carter, kissing Carter, opening my legs and watching Carter use his mouth on me until I begged him to fuck me. Again. In my own mind, I was the star of some freaking erotic romance novel and Carter was the bad-boy hero who knew how to work my body until I was so wrung out I couldn’t remember my own name. And I knew he could work me over and make me forget. In his bed, I'd forgotten all about reality for a little while as he filled me, tasted me, held me down and pressed me into his bed...
A soft moan escaped and I cut it off, wrapping my arms around my waist. I turned to stare out the window and saw that we were pulling into a twenty-four hour diner, just as he'd said. God, this was emotional suicide. “I think you should just take me home, Carter.”
Carter turned off the car and faced me.
“Why? I love the pie they serve here. Don't you like pie?”
I had to smile. “Yes, I like pie.”
“Then what's the problem?”
“I just don't understand.” I tugged at the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it lower over my abdomen, needing another layer of protection between him and my overeager pussy. God, I was pathetic.
He frowned, his forearm resting on the steering wheel. “Neither do I, it seems. Explain, sweetheart.”
I waved my hand between us. “That. The sweetheart bit. Why do keep calling me that? It was a one-night-stand, so why dinner?”
“I never said it was a one-night-stand,” he countered.
“Carter, we made out in a bar bathroom.” I felt my cheeks heat and I had to look away.
“That wasn't making out, that was foreplay.”
Oh god. I needed new panties. My hands twisted in my lap as he continued.
“Foreplay for what we did in my bed, foreplay for what we'll do later tonight. Tomorrow. Forever.”
My eyebrows went up. “Forever? But you're a—”
I bit my lip and he frowned. “Finish that sentence.”
I hadn't even said it and I felt like I'd insulted him. But I saw the women, the photos. I knew the truth.
I looked down at my lap. “You're a man whore, Carter. Everyone knows it. I won’t be able to live with myself if I’m just another notch on your belt. That’s not the kind of girl I am.”
A car horn blared from the street, but otherwise there was silence. God, he was going to start the car and take me home. Maybe even undo the locks and push me out onto the pavement.
“So, you think I'm a man whore,” he said finally.
I was thrilled the interior was dark, otherwise he'd see my cheeks heat. He must have recognized that I had no intention of responding, so he continued, completely at ease.
“I haven't been with a woman since I met you.”
I whipped my head around to look at him. The long strands of his dark hair were less groomed than at work and I ached to run my fingers through them. His jaw was darkened by the start of beard.
“I don't believe you,” I replied, leaning against the door to get as far from him as possible.
“Don't believe the rumors.”
“I don't listen to office gossip.” There was enough of it to go around and I knew better than to find truth in any of it. My source was much more reliable. Hell, she set up Carter’s dates for him. Tori. My friend Tori was Carter’s personal admin assistant. That bitch knew everything—and she told me.
He flicked a glance at me, then at a couple that got into the car next to ours. “All right, who have I been with then?” he asked. “You're friends with Tori and she knows more about my day than I do.”
Exactly! “The blond at the Harris ball,” I said.
He thought for a moment about the event back in January.
“My sister.”
His—
“The company Fourth of July party.” There was no way he had two gorgeous sisters, one blond the other a red head.
“Evelyn Patterson.”
I rolled my eyes. At least he wasn't denying there had been a woman with him.
“My best friend's wife,” he added. “You've met Colin Patterson before. Tall guy, we played golf together… with Ford, as part of that charity event back in August. As for the picnic, Colin was on call for the holiday and was pulled in for an emergency C-section. He's an OB. He felt bad that Evelyn would be alone so she came with me.”
Oh.
“When else, Emma?” I saw the cocky smile I knew all too well quirk the corner of his mouth. He didn't look the least bit like a man caught with his pants down, more than once. He looked too confident, as if he really was telling the truth.
“Last week, the Milkin merger reception.”
“My next door neighbor,” he replied immediately. After the car next to ours left, it was quiet again. The car was like a cocoon, quiet and close. His clean scent was stronger now and with him looking at me directly, his eyes seemed almost black. “And before you say I fucked her, I didn't. She's a lesbian and doesn't find my equipment all that exciting.”
I couldn't help it, my mouth fell open.
“Then why?” I asked, before I thought better of it.
“Why do I find escorts who are already claimed or completely disinterested in me? Because the woman I wanted to ask was sitting outside my brother’s office. I had to take a date, as you're well aware, so I found women to accompany me, but that's all.”
“Then you really didn't—”
I couldn't finish my sentences around him.
“I didn't fuck them. I haven't fucked anyone. Hell, I haven't touched anyone since I saw you. I’ve just been waiting, Emma, waiting for you to finish school. Being a fucking gentleman.” His hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly I feared it would break. “Until you forced my hand.”
Oh. Holy shit. The whole V-card thing.
He turned to look at me and I melted into the seat, my whole body on fire for him. “Your body is mine, Emma. I don’t share.”
Normally, the whole caveman vibe would turn me off. But coming from Carter, it had the opposite effect. I felt wanted, desired. The idea that I had been the reason for his sexual dry spell was overwhelming. Me! I wasn't anything special, not in comparison to those gorgeous women who'd escorted him to the events, especially now in my yoga pants when I was nowhere near a gym. But he hadn't touched those women. Certainly not his sister, definitely not the wife of a friend. He might be the hottest guy I'd ever seen, but he didn't have a chance with a lesbian.
“Why me?” I asked, when he turned off the car.
“You’re smart, beautiful, and classy. Your curves go on for miles and every time I look at you, all I can think about is bending you over my desk and filling you with my cock. That virginity you wanted to throw away, that was mine.”
“That's awfully possessive of you,” I countered.
He stared at me, his eyes dark and intent. There I saw so much, everything he'd never shown me before. It was the most heated, most carnal gaze I'd ever seen. “I want you, Emma. And not as a one-night-stand.”
I couldn’t breathe, hope like a butterfly floating in my chest. “Then what do you want?”
“Forever.”
My heart beat too fast. Forget butterflies. A herd of buffalo was running through my stomach and I felt like I was going to faint.
Carter looked at me for a moment, then reached over to touch my forehead, as if I were a sick child with a fever. “Emma? Are you all right?”
“No.” No. I wasn’t all right. I’d somehow stepped into an alternate reality where I got to fuck Carter Buchanan. Where the sexy as sin billionaire started talking about forever with the innocent and inexperienced secretary. This had to be a dream. Or a joke. Maybe a bet? Had he made one of those stupid bets about who gets the virgin, like I’d seen in the movies? Just how stupid was I being here?
Truly. What were the odds that Carter Buchanan, sexy, smart billionaire really, truly wanted middle-class nobody, a secretary who’d never even been with a man before?
He should be out with a supermodel or an actress. Or a freaking doctor or something. I was fooling myself. Looking away from his concerned expression, I said, “Take me home, please.”
“Talk to me.”
“Take me home.”
I saw a muscle in his jaw tick, but he started the car and drove me back to my place. The short ride was in complete silence and it was excruciating. I thought he’d drop me off and go, thanks to the cold shoulder I was giving him. Instead, he parked and hurried to my side of the car to help me out. It turned out to be a good thing, because my knees were shaky as hell, just like my emotions.