Page 48 of From London, With Love

“You’re really not great at being serious, are you?”

Dramatic as ever, Lara slaps her hands down on the top of my desk, eyes pinning me in place.?

“This isn’t funny, Carter,” she responds, still grinning likean idiot but valiantly trying to hide it. Her efforts really should be rewarded, and I can think of a few ways I’d like to reward her. I wonder if she has a praise kink? That would work wonders.

Not the fucking time, place, or woman. Pull. Yourself. Together.

“The smile on your face could’ve fooled me, gorgeous.” I lean further back in my chair, surveying her.

Lara lets out an exaggerated huff, crossing her arms across her chest. It takes every ounce of self-control not to stop my attention from redirecting itself to that chest, but fucking hell, it looks divine.?

For all the times I saw Lara at Chapter Nine, she’d never been wearing anything low cut or fitting. In her defence, the blouse she’s currently wearing beneath her jacket isn’t either of those things to any large degree, but it’s certainly more than I’ve seen. And apparently, more than I can handle.

She’s somehow managed to make corporate attire look intimidatingly sexy.?

“Alright,” Lara says, drawing my attention to her pretty face, “this is how it’s going to go.”

The whole time Lara is running through how she sees this meeting going, all I can think about is how unconcerned she is. She doesn’t seem the least bit phased about spending a four-hour round trip stuck in a car with me, and I strongly dislike how that makes me feel.

Was she not as affected by the bookstore events as I was? It seems hard to believe at first thought, because if the roles were reversed, I don’t think I’d be coping. Shit, I’m struggling to cope as it is.

What a humbling little realisation this is.

Do I test the theory anyway?Yes, yes I do. I can’t help myself.

Lara stands before me, looking positively delectable. My legs take the lead as I stand and walk around my desk, invading the space between it and Lara. Leaning against the front, I keep my gaze trained on her face. A feeling of satisfaction sparks inside me, watching as her eyes flare momentarily when they track my hands gripping the edge.

Lara tightens her crossed arms, drawing my attention briefly to her chest. When it returns to her face, I stiffen as I watch her lick her lips.?

Fuck. She has no idea what she’s doing to me.?

If she wasn’t in front of me, I’d be tempted to readjust myself. Instead, I take one small step closer, hellbent on having any sort of effect on her. Lara doesn’t react. Instead, she keeps staring.?

Feeling braver than I have any right to, and knowing this is crossingsomany lines, I take another step. When the tips of my shoes make contact with her heels, I finally get the slightest reaction from Lara. She lets out a tiny gasp.?

From a distance, it’s obvious she’s gorgeous. But up close, she’s exquisite.?

The sunlight through the windows allows me to notice tiny freckles peppering her cheeks, evidence of her homeland. Her lips are set in a perfect pout, and their natural pink colour embeds itself into my brain.

“Can I help you, Mr Lawrence?”

Oh,fuck me. Fuck me all the way to Scotland.?

There’s a twinkle in her eyes as she says this, but it’s gone in a heartbeat, replaced again by indifference. The way she’s able to school her expression so quickly makes me think it’s something she’s had a lot of practice with. The idea of her having to hide her emotions for any reason doesn’t sit right with me.

The way she says my name makes it feel like it belongs on her tongue, like no one else could ever make it sound as sweet.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been called Mr Lawrence, but it’s certainly the only time I’ve immediately wanted to hear it again, and again, andagain. My hands flex at my sides, itching to touch her. Restraint is a heavy burden right now, but an essential one nonetheless.

Through no fault of her own, Lara is the most painful temptress I’ve ever encountered. She’s not to blame for the way my body reacts to her, butgodI wish she knew the hold she has over me.

My jaw ticks. The way her eyes flicker toward the movement is a pretty clear indication that she noticed.

“Mr Lawrence?” They’re the only two words I can form; my mind unable to stop replaying the way she licked her lips, except to think about the unspeakable things I’d do to feel that tongue on my skin.

“Thatisyour name, isn’t it?” There’s a teasing note to her tone despite the continual expression of indifference. “I must admit, it suits you better than Mr Darcy.”

“I can’t decide which name I prefer coming from your lips; Mr Lawrence, or Carter. I suppose it doesn’t matter as long as it's my name.”

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