by Ana Sparks
“If you had never met me, you’d be a few billion dollars richer and wouldn’t have to deal with a blubbering wreck of a woman on the flight home,” I grumble, unable to contain my anger at myself.
Carson, the dear man that he is, raises a brow and presses a kiss to my forehead. His anger is ever absent, and he pulls me back against his chest. I realize there is nowhere that I would rather be, but I also know that there’s no way he could feel the same for me.
“If I’d never met you…I would never have fallen in love. This trip has made it abundantly clear for me. I don’t care about some Russian deal; I don’t care about any deal. All I want is you,” he whispers, stroking a hand along my back.
As if he doesn’t feel me stiffening in his arms, or realize the gravity of his words, he continues speaking.
“I understand if you don’t feel the same, but…” he trails off as I draw away to look him in the eye. My lips part of their own accord, and I flick my tongue out to moisten them.
Arousal darkens Carson’s earnest gaze, but it’s not just sexual desire I see reflected in his eyes. I see pure, unadulterated adoration—the same that I find myself feeling for him. Allowing my eyes to shut, I slowly close the distance between us.
His lips brush against mine, but a sudden thought causes me to hesitate and draw away with uncertainty. What Carson’s trusted pilots had told me races through my mind, and I can only wonder if he’s ever played this card before. Feeling his eyes upon me, I move to stammer out an apology.
“I just…how could someone like you fall for someone like me? I could understand something casual, but to truly love me…?” I trail off, averting my gaze.
He glances towards the cockpit, then grimaces as he turns his attention back to me, pain obvious in his expression.
“I can’t lie to you, Aimee. In the past, my feelings for you would be founded on sexual desire alone. For years, I thought I was happy to just play the game, but from the moment I met you, I knew you were different.” He pauses, caressing my cheek.
As much as I want to believe him, I’m not sure if I should. My heart aches so sharply for this man who holds me in his arms, who claims to hold me in his heart. Looking into his eyes, I search for any sign of deceit. Some signal that he’s pulling a fast one on me, or that he’ll see himself freed of my company once the plane lands.
There is no such hidden emotion in his expression. I look at him and see a man earnestly pouring his heart out. A wonderful man that any woman would be lucky to find herself with. My handsome heartbreaker of a lover. My billionaire boss. As much as I want to simply fall into his arms, there is a lingering thought that concerns me.
“Wait…do you mean that I won’t just be some secret affair? You actually want to pursue a real relationship with me?” I ask.
He grins at me, resting his forehead against mine.
“I would like nothing more. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Aimee, and while I know it’s a bit soon to be saying this kind of stuff, I don’t care,” he says with a vaguely mischievous look in his eyes.
“It would be rather unprofessional for you to pursue your personal assistant in a romantic relationship, don’t you think? Perhaps you would consider placing me back in my original position in the marketing department?” I tease, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.
He laughs loudly, as if he can’t believe that I would bring up work in such a serious moment.
“Well, you do have a point there. I don’t intend to treat you as anything less than an equal. If anything, I want to grant your every wish, provide every desire—” he pauses, tangling a hand in my hair. “Your wish is my command,” he declares grandly.
I smirk, rolling my eyes at his silliness.
“I want to be with you. I want to spend every night in your bed, gripped in your strong arms. More than anything, though—” I murmur, hesitating as I trail my fingertips down the front of his shirt. His eyes darken, and I bite my lip as I consider him with the sultriest expression I can manage. “I want to offer my resignation as your personal assistant,” I grin, leaning in to press my lips to his in a teasing kiss.
I expect him to leave the embrace at that, but I’m pleasantly surprised as he wraps said strong arms around me. He tangles his hands in my hair, parting my lips with his tongue and completely exploring my mouth.
There is nothing hurried about the embrace, and there’s something all the more enchanting about the leisurely way he traces a hand down to the back of my neck. I gasp, pouting as he draws away. He simply grins and lowers his head to my neck, kissing a path to my shoulder.
“I certainly hope you can find the kindness to continue assisting me in certain personal matters,” he murmurs against my skin, grazing his teeth against my shoulder. I moan softly, the sensations amplified by the adrenaline that has been flooding my system since we evaded capture.
“Hey!” Taylor calls abruptly, looking at us through the still-parted curtain that separates the cabin from the cockpit. “If you’re planning to start that stuff again, can it at least wait until we land? I’ve had just about enough excitement for the day,” he drawls.
Amusement bubbles up inside me, accompanied by an odd sense of familiarity. There’s an undeniable bond between the men; that much had been clear from the start. The fact that I’ve been welcomed into their dynamic only serves to solidify that I’m making the right decision. Carson begins to chuckle as well, before cutting himself short and staring at Taylor and Mike with a serious expression.
“You know, you two nearly risked my relationship with this beautiful woman. I could see you fired for that. What do you have to say for yourselves?” He demands brusquely.
I watch him with wide eyes, swallowing a giggle as he winks at me. Mike begins to stammer and apologize, but Taylor remains silent, eyes on the controls.
“She deserved better,” Taylor finally answers, silencing Mike’s awkward babbling. Mike stops short, staring with wide eyes at his co-pilot. I expect him to argue, but his face hardens and he turns to face Carson with a defiant expression.
“Taylor’s right. Miss Rhodes deserved better than the Carson we’ve experienced,” Mike says firmly. Carson looks taken aback, torn between amusement and offense. “As far as the Carson we’re getting to know, now, however…” he trails off, glancing to Taylor for backup.
The more serious of the two takes his hand off the controls for a brief moment, giving the three of us a thumbs up.
“So glad to have your approval,” Carson says dryly. “As far as waiting until we make it back to the States, you’re lucky that I’m such a magnanimous boss,” he continues haughtily, though I know he’s being silly.
God, to see him being so lighthearted and playful sends a throb through my heart. He’s not just my boss anymore, though; that’s something I have to keep reminding myself of.
Carson is in love with me. We’re going to be pursuing a relationship. For better or for worse, we’ll be at each other’s sides. With as much as we’ve faced so far, I have my doubts that anything will come between us in the future.
Then again, I’m not a fortune-teller, but my intuition tells me that Carson and I have a long and wonderful future ahead of us. I won’t be divulging that thought so soon, however. I don’t want him to get a big head—or, well, a bigger head.
“Magnanimous boss aside, I’m exhausted and my face hurts. Come on Carson, let’s leave the old married couple to their bickering,” I announce cheekily.
Mike sputters, and Taylor reaches out to give the chunky man a playful shove.
“We’ll wake the two of you up once we’re back in safe territory,” Taylor calls back to us.
I walk back into the cabin and settle into my seat. Carson sits down beside me, and I sleepily allow my head to rest on his shoulder. He wraps a comforting arm around me, and for the first time in what seems an eternity, I feel at peace.
As strange and unlikely as it is, this small town girl from Colfax has made a place of her own in
the big city of Seattle. Beyond that, I’ve forged a place in the heart of the intense, sweet and utterly amazing Carson Sharpe, CEO of SharpeFocus and trailblazer in the global real estate industry.
Except maybe in Russia…
A smile sneaks its way onto my face in spite of myself, and I resolve to tell Carson that joke a little later, perhaps when the wounds—both literal and figurative—are less fresh. For now, I can hear his breathing slowing to an even tempo, indicating that he’s drifting off to sleep. The last thing that crosses my mind before I fall asleep myself is what a PR nightmare this could be.
Chapter Sixteen
Aimee
When the news doesn’t seem forthcoming about the Russian scandal, Carson and I decide to keep things as quiet as possible. There’s no sense in getting the entire company worked up over nothing.
With the difficulty behind us now, it leaves plenty of time for us to actually get to know each other. I’ve been a bit doubtful, but Carson has agreed to meet me at a simple bar and grill down the street from my apartment. I know it’s not exactly his style, but the lap of luxury wasn’t really my style, either.
Mostly, I want to make sure that we enjoy each other’s company without all the flash and glamor of my lover’s upscale life. It’s easy enough to fall in love with the idea of a person when you’re going to the fanciest restaurants in town and making love on sheets with a thread count that I can’t even count to.
While I doubt my feelings for Carson will change, I want to give him a chance of an out before he’s decidedly in too deep.
As much as I’m tempted to wear one of the expensive couture dresses he’s bought for me, I’ve chosen a simple T-shirt and jeans for our date. I urged him to do the same, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen Carson in a T-shirt before. Baby steps, I suppose.
I’m not looking to change him, and if I look a bit out of place beside my billionaire boyfriend, well…I can live with that. Feeling my cellphone vibrate in my pocket, I grab it and swipe the screen to read the text I know he’s sent.
Over the course of the last few days, I’ve been able to determine that Carson is the most endearing man I’ve ever met. In spite of his previous playboy lifestyle, he seems a bit bewildered as to how an actual relationship works.
Actually, thinking about it, it’s probably because of that lifestyle. I’ve been holding his hand along the way, and though there have been some missteps in the time we’ve known each other, he’s become incredibly accommodating.
Still, he has his share of struggles. The message he’s sent is a picture, comparing two, nearly identical T-shirts with a crying face emoji and a question mark. I wait for the text message that will invariably follow, smirking as a long paragraph appears on my phone screen.
I scarcely have the time to read the whole predicament he’s made for himself, but from what I’m able to gather, he’s concerned as to whether wearing the name brand T-shirt would be too pretentious. I snicker to myself, debating having a bit of fun at his expense.
Deciding I like the man too much to toy with him, I assure him that the name brand is fine, and that I’m sure he’ll look great regardless of what he chooses. He doesn’t reply, but I imagine he’s smiling at my response.
Setting my phone down, I consider my reflection in the mirror for a moment. All I’ve really sprung for, as far as makeup, is a bit of eyeliner. I had entertained the thought of a nice shade of lipstick, but considering we’ll likely be eating wings or something similar, I don’t want to waste the effort.
I don’t look bad, but I don’t look nearly as nice as I’ve made myself look for work ventures. The woman that stares back at me from the mirror is remarkably average. A remarkably average woman, going on a date with a billionaire.
I almost expect him to send another text, begging me to go somewhere a bit more upscale. He hasn’t been particularly insistent about the expensive places we go, but I feel like he has a self-imposed obligation to try to impress me hanging over him.
If I hadn’t seen his huge package, I might think he was overcompensating for something. I’m not about to tell him that, though.
After leaving my apartment, I begin the short walk to the bar where we’re spending the evening. It’s been a staple of my day-to-day life since moving here, and I’m eager to share the simple and cozy little place with the man I’m growing to care more and more about every day. I’m watching my phone more than where I’m going, and I nearly run into someone as I move to step up onto the outdoor deck.
“Sorry,” I blurt, cutting myself short when I see who it is. Rather, what he’s dressed like.
Though I’ll admit that Carson cleans up nice in a suit and tie, there’s something about seeing him in a simple T-shirt and jeans that sends a surge of arousal through my body. I smile warmly at him, and he considers me somewhat awkwardly.
“How do I look?” he inquires.
I smile, brushing away some invisible lint, more as an excuse to feel his chest muscles.
“You look perfect. Come on, we’re sitting out here. It’s a lot more peaceful, and it tends to get a bit rowdy inside and, well…” I trail off, meeting his gaze with a half-smile.
“Baby steps,” he chuckles, looking at the deck with faint appreciation. “This is nicer than I expected. Then again, I’m not quite sure what I expected,” he muses, walking towards a table and taking a seat.
I sit across from him, trying to keep the dopey, lovey-dovey grin off my face.
“You were expecting a dive! Admit it,” I tease. He rolls his eyes, but his almost bashful smile tells me that I’m right.
The dinner goes well, considering how long it’s been since Carson has been to a simple bar and grill. His face ends up covered in wing sauce, and I try not to laugh as he gets a little too upset over it. Instead of mocking him, I tenderly dab at his face with the wet napkins we’ve been provided with. He pouts adorably, and unable to resist, I lean across the table to kiss him.
With an expression that is both startled yet pleased, he pulls me in for another, deeper kiss. I run a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, curling my other fingers in the collar of his shirt. As good as he looks in it, I’m becoming increasingly eager to see the outfit on my bedroom floor…
Wait. My bedroom floor? The thought strikes me abruptly, the fact that I’m actually considering taking him to my dingy little apartment. He seems eager to continue our intimacy away from the public eye, however, and I’m not sure I feel patient enough to make the drive to his place.
“Do you want to…come to my apartment? It’s nothing fancy, but—” I begin, cut short as he leaps up from the table.
“Yes, of course,” he says urgently.
Carson throws a wad of bills on the table, as if that’s how you’re actually supposed to pay at one of these places. The waiter doesn’t seem particularly bothered as he comes out to collect our plates, however, and Carson offers the other man a kind smile.
“Keep the change,” he says simply, stepping towards me and offering his arm.
Grinning, the two of us walk arm in arm to my apartment complex. Though he seems eager to see the place, doubt rises within me at the idea of letting him see the place I live in. I hadn’t even cleaned up before meeting him at the bar! The kitchen is a disaster, and I haven’t folded clothes in weeks. Every time I go to his place, it’s clean and tidy—perfectly well kept, with not a single thing out of place.
Beginning to wonder if he’ll think less of me upon seeing the mess that is my apartment, I tighten my grip on his arm as we approach the door. I fumble with the key for a moment, and his hands idly roam up and down my back.
I shiver at his touch, managing to push the door open and stumble inside. If he’s surprised by what he sees, he doesn’t show it. I’m not sure if I should be offended or grateful, but he seems preoccupied with other things.
“Where’s the bedroom?” he asks huskily.
My breath catches in my throat, and I lead him through the apartment to my t
iny bedroom. I’m immediately ashamed of my scratchy sheets and the modest mattress that has honestly seen better days. I part my lips to apologize, but he slips his hands beneath my shirt, lifting it up and over my head.
“It’s not as nice as I’d like,” I mumble, and he smiles.
He leans in to press a tender kiss to my lips, and I sigh against him.
“It’s perfect. Just like you,” he breathes. He nudges me towards the bed, and I sit on the edge before drawing him closer to me. He shifts awkwardly, grabbing the front of his jeans in a rather obvious gesture. “There’s not much breathing room in these things,” he mutters. I smirk, popping the button and sliding them down his hips.
“All the more reason to get out of them,” I reply cheekily.
He chuckles, and I note he’s still wearing his expensive underwear. He pulls off the T-shirt, exposing his broad and strong chest. I pull him onto the bed with me, and he lifts my hips to guide my pants down my legs. Arousal is already flooding through my veins, hot and almost painful in its intensity. He smirks at the simple pair of white panties I’m wearing, and I blush as I avert my eyes.
“I wasn’t expecting to get laid,” I offer weakly.
“Well, you should know better than that,” he teases, reaching around me to unsnap my bra.
Once I’m nude, save for my panties, he pushes me onto my back, settling his knees on either side of my hips. He stares down at me with an adoration that no man has ever shown me before. I feel myself blushing at the attention, tilting my head to avoid looking him in the eye. It’s too much for my heart to take.
Undeterred by my sudden timidity, Carson leans in to brush his lips to the side of my neck. He drags his tongue down my chest to the peak of one of my breasts, then takes my nipple between his lips, sucking gently as he pinches the other between two fingers.
A strangled gasp spills past my lips, and I realize that I’d really been worried over nothing. It doesn’t matter if we’re in his high-end penthouse or my simple apartment. We simply can’t get enough of each other.
