Mr. Fantasy: (A standalone romance)

by Cambria Hebert

  Chills raced up my spine and my stomach flipped over. “When we walked to work.”

  “I think you got prettier since then.”

  Ducking my head, I smiled. Oh, the charm. He oozed it more than an athlete sweated. It would be quite alarming if it wasn’t so freaking powerful.

  Lips grazed the top of my cheekbone, then my ear.

  “Carter,” I whispered.

  “I love when you say that,” he murmured.

  Reaching up to grasp his wrist, I pulled it down, willing myself to untangle from his web. “Did you seriously call me up here to introduce me to your security?”

  Pressing another light kiss to my cheek, he pulled away, striding across the room to his desk. “Of course not. We have work to do.”

  It took me a little longer to shake off our closeness before I could trail after him. “My work is in the design department.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What now?” I grumbled.

  Chuckling under his breath, he sat down, hit a few keys on his keyboard, and crooked a finger at me. “Come over here,”

  “There’d better be actual work on that monitor and not some pretend nonsense.” I warned, going around the massive worktop to look at what he gestured to. “Whoa,” I crooned. “That’s incredible.” Stepping closer, I leaned in to take in all the detail and realism in the graphic that honestly was so incredible, in some lights, I might think it was a photograph of a real person.

  “You like it?”

  Sweeping my eyes over it again and again, I took in the angles and colors, every detail I could. “Of course.” Tearing my stare away, I looked at him. “You don’t?”

  “No, I like it. I just feel like it needs something. I wanted to hear your opinion.”

  Straightening, I drew back. “Is this for a new game you’re creating?”

  He nodded.

  “Why ask me? I’m just an intern.”

  Turning in his chair, he snatched my hand and pulled me into his lap.

  Squeaking, I pushed at his shoulders to try and get up. “We’re at work!”

  “No one’s in here.”

  “But—”

  “Knox is at the door.”

  “I—”

  Tapping the monitor, he reminded me. “Tell me what you think.”

  It was a rendering of a character so polished you couldn’t even call it a mock-up. He was dressed head to toe in some kind of gear that I knew could likely be upgraded and changed to fit each user. A bow and arrow was strapped to his back, a dagger on his thigh. The combat boots on his feet were incredibly realistic and detailed.

  The eyes were so lifelike it was almost creepy, as if I expected them to follow me whenever I moved. With that thought, I did, swaying back and forth in Carter’s lap, just trying to catch it watching me.

  “It really is incredible,” I murmured, still studying it. “The design team did this?”

  “Not the one you’re with downstairs.”

  “There are two design teams here?”

  “So you don’t think it needs anything?” he prompted, drawing my attention back to the rendering.

  “I see what you mean,” I mused, thoughtful.

  “Really?” He seemed surprised. “Everyone else thinks it’s perfect.”

  I bolted upright. “That’s it,” I said, glancing at him.

  “What?”

  “It’s too perfect.”

  Carter made a sound. “Do you play games on your phone? On a console at home?”

  “Does Candy Smash count?” I asked weakly.

  His eyes rolled. “You should be embarrassed.”

  I shrugged.

  Incredulous, his eyes widened. “You seriously don’t play any of my games? Have any of my apps?”

  “No.” I apologized.

  Snatching a tablet off his desk, he pulled me back into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and holding up the screen so we could both see it. With a few taps, the Ansoft logo appeared, along with some music. Seconds later, a game loaded and exploded to life.

  “This is currently our most downloaded game,” he told me, his voice right against my ear. Gooseflesh rippled across my skin, and the muscles in my lower belly tightened. “It’s basically where you try and survive an outbreak of zombies.”

  At that second, a zombie lurched out of the dark in the corner of the screen. The sick, realistic sound it made as it grabbed for its prey made me jump.

  “Holy crap!” I exclaimed, still plastered against Carter. “That scared me.”

  More zombies materialized, and the avatar he was controlling stepped into the light and began taking them out with very graphic headshots. A moment later, he ran out of bullets, and I watched him throw the gun at an approaching attacker and pull a sword off his back.

  The severed head of the zombie rolled across the floor, and blood splattered the screen, making me jerk again, worried it would splash me.

  “You came up with this?” I glanced between him and the game.

  “It’s not a new concept at all,” he said, still playing. “I think just about every company has done zombies. Here.” He pulled the tablet closer to me. “You give it a try.”

  “I don’t know how to do play.”

  “Like this,” he said patiently, leaning around me a little more. Hands covering mine, he brought them to the screen and showed me the basics of the game, softly guiding me with his voice.

  Eventually, he pulled his hands back, letting them drift down into my lap, watching as I attempted to play.

  “Ooh!” I squealed when a zombie ran at me. Screeching, I hit about a million things at once, not really knowing what the heck I was doing. “Eeee,” I screeched again, partially turning away as I hit the zombie and blood splattered everywhere.

  Carter laughed against my ear.

  “Help me!” I demanded. “I’m about to die!”

  “You got this.” He encouraged. “Hit this.” He pointed toward the screen.

  I did, and the zombie dropped to convulse on the ground. Picking up a gun I’d found, I took the shot and killed him.

  “I did it!” I exclaimed, sitting forward. Turning in his lap, beaming, I asked, “Did you see? I killed it.”

  Smiling, he tugged the ends of my hair. “I saw.”

  A bunch of horrible sounds and a blood-curdling scream burst from the game, and I looked just in time to see myself getting attacked and eaten alive.

  Oh, it was gross. Pulling it away from my eyes, I buried my face in his neck. “This is the most downloaded game you have?” I complained, my voice muffled against his skin. “But it’s so graphic.”

  “That’s why it’s the most popular. People love it.”

  I made a sound, and silent laughter shook his shoulders. Taking the tablet from my hands, he slid it on his desk. I started to sit up, but his palm settled between my shoulder blades, pressing me against him.

  “Just give me another minute,” he requested softly.

  He smelled good, like something expensive and fresh. It reminded me of the island where we spent that first night together. My body melted when he started rubbing my back with firm but gentle strokes.

  “Don’t you have any other games that won’t give me nightmares?”

  The indulgence in his tone when he replied made me feel spoiled, even though it was such a simple thing. “I’ll download some on your phone. You should get familiar with them.”

  I nodded against him, and he continued to stroke my back. “This is the market, though. The more realistic, the better. Zero is going to blow everything else away.”

  “Zero?”

  Carter gestured to the monitor. “Our new game. I’ve been working on it for a long time.”

  “Ahh,” I mused, understanding.

  “You said you thought this looked too perfect?” he prompted. “After seeing another one of our games, do you still feel the same?”

  Tugging my lower lip into my mouth, I looked over the rendering on the monitor before picking
up the tablet and examining the game we’d been playing.

  Decisively, I nodded. “Definitely.”

  “The objective here was to make it the best on the market, so technically, it should be perfect.”

  “But it has to also be believable. You know what they say about perfection,” I goaded.

  “What’s that?”

  “If something seems to good to be true—”

  “It probably is.” He finished for me.

  “Exactly.”

  “But this is a fantasy game.” A smirk transformed his face.

  “Fantasy seems to be your specialty,” I teased, ruffling his hair.

  “And you’re stuck in reality.”

  “I’m not stuck here. I live here. There’s a difference.”

  “Explain,” Carter demanded, clearly becoming frustrated.

  “People want an escape, right? That’s why they play your games, to go places they couldn’t go otherwise. To be a hero when they feel powerless in the real world.”

  “In some sense,” he allowed.

  “What you need, then, is a little more reality in your fantasy,” I explained, tapping on the monitor. “Make it just a little less perfect so it will feel more real… more…”

  “Relatable.”

  Snapping my fingers, I said, “Exactly.”

  “If we made it more relatable, wouldn’t we just end up making it crappier?” Carter mused.

  “I’m not talking about changing the quality of the game. Or the upgrades or whatever else you have going on there.” Waving a hand at the image, I carried on. “I just mean tweak certain things so it feels more… lived in. More real.”

  “For example?”

  “Like the boots. Make the shoelaces slightly crooked.” I pointed. “Add smudges of dirt on the toe and make the soles look slightly worn, like this person has actually been running around in a fight.”

  Carter nodded, eyes still locked on the artwork.

  “And when the character gets hurt, don’t just take away a few of their health hearts.”

  Dark eyes shifted to me. “Health hearts?”

  “You know, when you get hit or fall off a cliff or something, it takes away some of the hearts at the top of the screen. When you run out, you die.”

  He blinked. Blinked again. “Zero doesn’t have health hearts.”

  I brightened. “Maybe you should add some.”

  “No.”

  “It’s a good idea,” I argued.

  “When I take you out in public, don’t talk gaming with anyone else, okay, baby? It will embarrass me.”

  My heart tumbled, and I was rendered speechless… He called me baby.

  “What else you got besides health hearts?” he asked, grimacing.

  My insides were still fluttering, and he didn’t even seem to notice he’d tilted my world on its side with a single word. “Besides health hearts…” I repeated, trying to jumpstart my brain.

  I needed to put some distance between us. Sitting in his lap, having his eyes on me, his hands… hearing his voice so close—it was causing some sort of short circuit in my brain.

  I popped up so fast he wasn’t able to pull me back, though he tried. Evading his attempt, I backed up, knocking a dish of paperclips off the desk. They spilled everywhere, and the dish broke into several pieces.

  “Oh no!” Dropping to my knees, I tried to scoop up as many as I could at once.

  “Leave it,” Carter commanded, but I kept working.

  “Ow!” I yanked my hand back the instant I felt the sting of pain in my finger. Staring, I watched blood well beneath the sliced skin, then slowly drip down my finger.

  Carter

  “If you ever do that again, you’re going to see a side of me most people don’t like.” I fumed, slamming open the lid of the first aid kit.

  “I’m sorry.” Nora sulked. “I’ll replace the dish I knocked over.”

  I threw the Band-aid I was holding down into the kit. “I don’t give a damn about that dish!”

  Her eyes widened, confusion swimming in her unshed tears.

  Cursing low, I laid a hand on her thigh. “I meant hurt yourself.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose!” she insisted.

  Turning back, I grabbed the bandage. “Well, if you would have listened when I told you to leave it, you wouldn’t be bleeding!”

  “It’s just a little cut.”

  I grunted, lifting the gauze I’d been holding on it to help soak up the blood. The second I pulled it back, the cut started oozing red once more.

  “See!” I yelled, pointing at her injury.

  Her lower lip wobbled. “It stings.”

  “Fuck.” Gently dabbing at the blood, I reached around for some antiseptic spray that claimed it also relieved the burning of cuts and scrapes.

  “Hold my arm.” I cajoled, putting her free hand on my forearm and giving it a pat. “If it hurts, just squeeze.”

  Nora turned her face away as I sprayed. “Okay?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she said, still turned away.

  Smiling, I worked quickly, making sure it was clean and slowing the bleeding to barely anything. “Almost done,” I whispered while ripping open a large bandage.

  Her hand tightened a little on my arm, and a rush of tenderness flowed through me.

  Once the cut was covered, I pressed a soft kiss to the injury. Lowering her hand, I saw she was watching me.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, eyes wide.

  “What were you thinking, leaping out of my lap like that?” I asked, still irritated she’d gotten hurt.

  Her eyes skirted away.

  Grasping her chin and forcing her head back around, I ordered, “Tell me.”

  “I can’t think when I’m that close to you.” Her words rushed out, nearly tripping over each other. “You make me all nervous and dizzy. I couldn’t concentrate.”

  Up until this point, I’d managed to hold back. Up until this point, I sort of enjoyed the sweet torture of anticipating her.

  That was over.

  Unfolding from where I was kneeling, my body covered hers, pushing her back into the leather chair until we both reclined and she was deliciously beneath me.

  Stunned by the sudden switch, Nora gasped and gripped my shoulders.

  My lips sought hers, knowing exactly where they belonged, exactly where the sweet spot of her surrender was found. The fingers gripping my shoulders, so tight, fell away so her arms could wind around my neck. Sliding an arm between her and the chair, I lifted so our bodies melded together.

  Without lifting my lips even once, I kissed until my brain when silent, until the gnawing hunger I felt for her was muted. Rocking closer, my tongue stroked over hers, and my body began to hum. I’d been waiting for this. I’d been waiting for this from the moment she stepped off my boat and walked away dressed in nothing but my shirt.

  It was supposed to be one night. She was supposed to be a fantasy.

  She was real. Blissfully, maddeningly real.

  Nora’s hands danced up the back of my neck, fingers delving into my hair, and I felt the fine tremor in her body.

  Gentling the kiss, I pulled back slowly, still so enraptured with her I couldn’t go far. Resting my forehead against hers, we both panted, her arms at her sides.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to do that,” she quipped, voice shaky.

  I answered with my lips, kissing her cheek, her nose, then each of her eyelids.

  The phone on my desk buzzed, then buzzed again.

  Forcing myself up, I strode over to snatch up the line. “What?” I growled.

  “Your twelve o’clock is here,” Meghan informed.

  “Give me a few minutes,” I ordered, then hung up.

  Nora was packing up the first aid kit, cheeks flushed and lips red from my assault. “I should go back to work.”

  “I have a meeting now, but come back up here after lunch.”

  “I have to work,” she hissed.

  “We aren’t fini
shed with the meeting we were having.”

  “That’s because someone can’t keep his hands to himself.”

  “You like it.”

  “I’m going to get lunch,” she declared, instead of agreeing.

  “I mean it, good girl. I want you back up here. We have a project to discuss.”

  I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to pull that skirt up around her waist—

  “Stop looking at me like that,” she snapped.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m a snack.”

  “You said it was lunchtime,” I teased.

  “Aren’t you coming?” She was puzzled.

  “Meeting.”

  Her face fell as though she were disappointed. “But you have to eat.”

  I very rarely ate lunch. I was usually too busy. I was about to inform her of that fact when she brightened.

  “Want me to bring you something back?”

  “You’d do that for me?” I asked, my heart fluttering. I wasn’t used to someone worrying about whether or not I ate.

  “What do you want?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “Okay, but no complaining.” She warned, heading for the door.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I called, starting toward her.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, holding her hands out as if she were trying to ward off the plague. “Keep those hands and lips away from me.”

  Her blue skirt billowed out around her when she spun and yanked open the door. “Knox!” she bellowed.

  My security rushed forward, eyes wide. “What is it? Boss?” He worried, glancing past her to where I stood.

  “You’re worrying about him? I was calling you to protect me!” Jabbing a finger in my direction, she said, “He’s a menace.”

  Knox didn’t know how to react. No one ever accused me of such things, and if they did, it was Knox’s job to show them the door. He didn’t move, though, which told me he had a soft spot for her.

  “He’s my guard, not yours.” My voice was dry.

  Nora paused beside him, laying her hand on his shoulder. “I thought we were friends.” With a sigh of disappointment, she left us there, staring after her.

  “Where’d you meet her again?” Knox asked once he’d recovered.