The Arrangement

Chapter Seventy-Four

Carter

The first thing I notice as I approach the kitchen is the gentle melody of Blair's humming, a sound so pure and uplifting that it immediately lightens the atmosphere around me. It's remarkable how such a simple, unassuming sound can carry so much warmth and positivity.

As I step into the kitchen, I find Blair completely in her element. There's a gracefulness to her movements, a fluidity that speaks of someone utterly at peace with themselves and their surroundings. There's no denying that after how tense she's been since we've all been here, it's a comforting to see her finally relaxing into her surroundings. Especially when she's completely unaware of my presence.

I lean casually against the cool granite counter just behind her, observing intently as her nimble fingers expertly crack eggs into a ceramic bowl. Each eggshell is dispatched with a satisfying crack, and the yolks tumble gracefully into the mix, their sunny orbs melding seamlessly with the viscous whites. Blair's movements are fluid and assured, her wrist deftly whisking the concoction into a frothy, vibrant yellow blend.

She reaches for the prepped ingredients nearby: the peppers, a riot of red and green, vibrant against the muted tones of the kitchen; the cheese, finely shredded, promising a creamy richness; and the ham, thinly sliced, its savory aroma already hinting at the flavors to come. With a flick of her wrist, she adds them to the eggs, transforming the mixture into a colorful mosaic of culinary promise.

I find myself utterly absorbed in the tranquil choreography of her movements. It's as if the kitchen itself has taken a deep breath and settled into a moment of serene anticipation.

My attention is drawn to the subtle rise and fall of her top as she stretches to retrieve something from the cupboard or bends to pick up an item from the floor. The fabric lifts just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of skin, and I can't help but let out a low, involuntary groan, the sound slipping out before I can catch it.

The unexpected noise startles her, and she spins around with a startled shriek, brandishing the whisk like a makeshift weapon. Her eyes are wide with surprise, but as recognition dawns, she deflates, a relieved sigh escaping her lips.

She presses a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. "You scared me!" she scolds, her voice a mixture of exasperation and residual adrenaline. She waves the whisk at me for emphasis, sending droplets of egg flying to the floor, forgotten in her moment of flustered reprimand. "Why are you even up this early? Have you ever heard of sleeping in?" Her brows knit together, a mock sternness in her gaze as if my early rising is a personal affront.

Holding my hands up I take a step towards her trying to keep my amusement from my expression. "I'm a natural early riser," I explain as I take the whisk from her hand and place it back in the bowl behind her.

The distance between us disappearing, our bodies end up flush against each other as I reach around her. She tenses in response to our proximity, sucks in a sharp breath but doesn't attempt to step back away from me.

"The question is, why are you up so early?" I ask, my voice low and teasing.

"Henley's snoring," she admits with a resigned sigh. "Honestly, I don't know how Lennox sleeps through it."

"With great effort, I assume," I quip, a grin tugging at my lips.

She rolls her eyes but can't suppress a small smile. "Omelette?" she offers, her tone softening, the earlier tension dissipating like morning mist.

"Carter?" she prompts when I don't immediately respond.

"Hmm?" I murmur, still caught in the moment.

"Would you like an omelette?" she repeats, her eyes meeting mine, a playful challenge in her gaze.

"Yes, please," I reply, my voice laced with warmth and appreciation, grateful for the shared moment in the quiet cocoon of the kitchen.

Leaning back against the counter I watch as she turns back to her concoction and pours the contents of the bowl into the heated frying pan.

Turning she now waves the spatula at me, "where's Ash?" She asks her brows pinching together.

I don't know what response she's expecting but her expression tells me she's not expecting it to be positive.

"He's still in bed" I inform her but that only causes her expression to harden.

"Your bed?" She then asks and I assume if the response is anything other than yes she definitely isn't going to be impressed.

"Yes he's in my bed Blair," I scoff pushing off the counter to step towards her again. "And you're going to burn that If you don't pay attention." I say taking the spatula from her, taking over with omelette making.

Blair doesn't put up any resistance as she completely abandons the task and leans herself next to me, the look on her face one that's says she's got something she wants to say.

"What?" I ask eyeing her cautiously.

She shrugs letting out a fake sigh. "Did you know your lip tugs up right here," she teases poking the corner of my mouth, "anytime Ashton is mentioned."

"And your point is?" I ask not getting why it matters.

"It's cute, that's all" she replies with another shrug.

I can't help but find her whole approach to everything amusing, causing my lips to tug up just like she said.

"Cute? Not sure how I feel about being called cute," I huff a little taken back by the fact I'm sure I blush just a fraction.

"I think you like it Mr Langford" she teases, her tone sending all the blood rushing straight to my cock. "This whole grumpy, tough C.E.O act is exactly that," she rises up on her tiptoes her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, "an act."

I can't distinguish if her plan is to rile me up or she's just teasing without really thinking about it, yet either way she's without a doubt awoken the beast inside me.

I completely abandon the omelettes as I reach for her, my grip tight around her arm as I back her up against the fridge. "And I think you're dancing a fine line Miss Carmichael."

Our bodies are flush against each other, my erection no doubt pressing into her. Her breathing coming in ragged bursts as she looks up at me with hooded eyes.

"You're burning the eggs," she breathes making no attempt to push me away.

She's right, I can smell them burning. Although the only thing I can think about right now is the way her breasts press up against me every time she takes in a breath.

There isn't a doubt in my mind that if I wanted to I could bend her over and fuck her right here over the counter. It's fucking tempting too.

But I know that first I've got a fair amount of grovelling and making up for my actions so somehow I manage to take a breath to steady myself and step away.

"Go and get dressed" I tell her, turning away to clear everything away.

"Wh-what?" She hisses, her tone laced with surprise.

Turning back to face her, my expression is soft, along with my tone. "There's somewhere I want to take you today," I explain.

There's a little flash of a surprised smile that tugs at her lips and I can tell she wants to question me but instead she nods and heads off through the cabin with rushed steps.