𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏.
LIKE FATHER, LIKE DAUGHTER.
Charlie, also known as the jet-setter and billionaire Tony Stark's only daughter, is 26 and in a relationship with Steve, soon-to-be successor...
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𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅.
And here they both were, on that fateful Friday night, in the car, in direction of the American Radiator Building where Loki lived.
James was too close to her, even though the two were standing on either side of the spacious elevator. It was still not enough space between them. She could feel his steel-blue eyes staring at her and she suddenly felt too hot, a tiny drop of sweat running down her spine.
Letting slide the thick coat from her shoulders, revealing her bare skin where she had moisturized and applied glittery oil on it just after getting out of the shower, Charlie didn't feel better.
After a deafening ascension, the bell chimed as the doors of the private elevator started to open to the entrance hall of Loki Laufeyson's floor. Without even waiting for the doors to finish opening completely, Charlie hurried to get out of the elevator whose air had become too suffocating.
James caught up with her in total of two strides and grabbed her by the wrist, holding her back. She collided with his chest as her eyes widened at him.
He stared at her full nude lips until his gaze dropped to the diamond and amethyst necklace around her neck. That sight alone could make him cum in less than ten seconds. James lowered his eyes again to her cleavage, admiring these breasts he'd love to kiss, these nipples he'd dream to suck one last time.
He wanted to tell her how devastating she was tonight in that jade-green dress that matched her eyes, how he couldn't wait to take it off of her and fuck her wearing only the necklace he bought her for Christmas as her bare skin would glow only for him. But unfortunately all of this was for Steve motherfucking Rogers.
Was she really thinking about getting back with him? After what Steve had done? After what they'd been through together?
Was it plausible she didn't feel the same connection he did every time they were in the same room? Every time they glanced into each other's eyes?
While thinking about it, it would the most logical way. The rich almost always tied with the rich. How could Charlie even consider having a relationship with a guy like himself?
With that same kid from Brooklyn.
The one who was broke, scared and lost and enrolled in the army as soon as he could. Now he wasn't scared anymore, only scarred by the life that had been forced upon him, the one he chose to escape by joining the army.
And here he was, fifteen-ish years later, doing that damn job.
Shame and remorse flooded him. James shook his head to get rid of those gloomy thoughts before focusing his attention back to Charlie once again.
He hadn't realized his own hand had left her wrist to tangle his fingers with hers. Taking a step back, he freed his hand while he still could before anyone could see them, instantaneously missing her heat.
