Chasing Love: Chapter 24


The day is overcast, mirroring my mood.

I’ve no idea how to approach the Charlotte and Samantha situation, and so to clear my head I run through Central Park.

My legs run faster than ever, pushing through the burn as sweat builds against my shirt and drips from my forehead. The time I run is my personal best, and the only positive thing I have control over.

I stop at a playground to catch my breath. Around me, children are playing, so happy with not a care in the world. An attractive redhead sits on the park bench, and a small boy runs into her arms. Her face becomes familiar, and moments later, I realize it is Charlotte’s friend, Nikki.

I’m not one to strike up conversations with strangers, but this has a purpose close to my heart.

“Hi.” I wave, taking small steps towards her. “Nikki, is it?”

Raising her eyes to meet mine, she crosses her arms with a forced smile on her face. “Yes, it is, Mr. Edwards.”

I sense the sarcastic tone, and with my guard slightly up, I have to play this woman differently if I want to extract any information regarding Charlotte.

“Please call me Lex.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles.

The young boy beside her moves his attention to me. “Are you a friend of Mom’s?”

“Actually, I’m a friend of her friend.”

“He’s Charlie’s friend,” Nikki tells him, gritting her teeth.

“Oh, how cool.” The boy jumps off the bench, his face animated as he speaks, “Do you know Cha Cha takes me to baseball every Saturday morning? It’s totally awesome. She can play some mean baseball, and the coaches love her.”

Charlotte plays baseball? I laugh at the irony. She always hated sports.

“Honey, can you go play with Bailey while I speak to Lex?”

The boy nods, kissing Nikki goodbye before running off.

Nikki swings her head my way, a darting gaze bouncing off her angered face. “Stay away from Charlie, Lex. You’re no good for her.”

“You don’t even know me,” I respond as politely as I can without telling her to fuck off and mind her own business. “It’s a bit presumptuous of you to say I have bad intentions.”

“No, I don’t, Lex,” she states, matter-of-factly. “I don’t know the history you have, though I’m pretty sure it was more than just a high school crush. I do know that while I shared a room with Charlie in college, she’d cry herself to sleep every night and wake up asking for you.”

I’m rendered speechless, forgetting how much I hurt her. My arms become heavy as my shoulders slump, the weight of my past actions rearing their ugly head once again. I didn’t stop to think about what happened after I left, and I didn’t bring it up with Charlotte because I don’t want to drudge up the memories or reminisce about my stupidity.

“She’s better off with Julian,” Nikki continues, relaxing her stern gaze. “He treats her how she deserves to be treated. I know enough about your type to know you will only hurt her again.”


Someone is telling me Charlotte is better off without me.

This time I’m not backing down, refusing to make the same mistake again.

“You might want to let Charlotte decide that for herself.” I straighten my back, chest out, and give her a polite smile. “Goodbye, Nikki.”

I start jogging away thinking about what Nikki’s just said. I don’t care what she thinks. Charlotte and I have history. After what happened last night, I know she will go to Julian’s place. I just need a plan. Running back to the hotel, frustrated of getting nowhere, I hit the gym. My body thrives off the pain.

Back in my room, I climb into a steaming hot shower. The water is amazing, soothing my muscles and relaxing the tension almost instantly. My mind begins drifting to last night, caressing her on the dance floor, feeling her body tighten as I sang to her.

Wrapping my hand around my cock, I begin to slowly stroke it, remembering how I pushed her against the cold fridge, watching the condensation run down the door as her skin burned, sucking on her beautiful tits, and feeling her wet pussy all over my fingers. Her body has changed. She has become a woman. Her hips are curvaceous, her ass nice and tight. I start stroking faster, imagining her lips on my cock. The way she used to take me in deep, the way she screamed my name as I fucked her.

As the pressure mounts and fire rises in my belly, I explode all over my hand, wishing it had been in her mouth.

First thing I need more than anything is stamina. I order room service which doesn’t take long. A hot breakfast will give me the energy since I’ve barely eaten anything the past few days. After I finish my meal, I grab my phone, scrolling through until I locate Eric’s number. He gave me his number at the charity ball in case I need anything. To be honest, I’m not sure if he wants dick or he’s trying to set up Charlotte, so I text him, asking for her number which he has no problem giving me.

I wasted most of the day in meetings, bounded by contracts and meetings scheduled from months back. As the early evening sets in, I officially go crazy playing this waiting game. I need to tell her last night with Samantha wasn’t what it looked like, so I decide to text her.

As I wait, my anxiety grows as the clock ticks by. What the fuck is she doing that she can’t respond straight away? My mind wanders. Don’t go there.

Charlotte: Explain

One word is all she gives me. No ‘hello, how are you today.’ She’s brief, and I don’t blame her. Charlotte needs to know the truth, and so I finally explain the situation, hoping she’ll understand. She’s quick to question me as to whether I’m lying, telling me to check in the mirror to see if my nose has grown.

I can’t resist, it’s just too easy.

Typing quickly, I tell her my nose may not have grown, but I can’t say the same for down below. Anxious I may have pushed our boundaries, the bubble hovers on the bottom of our text for what feels like forever.

Charlotte: I didn’t know you and the mirror had a thing for each other. Get a room.

This is the Charlotte I remember, feisty and witty with a comeback for everything. I smile, thinking of a comeback to keep our conversation rolling.

Me: I tried but turns out it prefers it in a dark kitchen against the cold fridge.

I don’t know what she remembers about Saturday night since she drank so much. Beneath my pants, my cock hardens again. Jesus fucking Christ, I need to rub another off if I plan to get any sleep tonight. This tension is killing me and waiting for her text feels like hours on end.

Charlotte: Ha! Funny! I could’ve sworn it was an elevator.

Well, fuck me. She remembers.

I had told her once about a reoccurring fantasy in which she was wearing fuck-me boots, a short, pleated skirt, and nothing underneath as we rode an elevator. Everyone would exit, and I’d push the stop button, fucking her into oblivion. If the universe has any favoritism toward me, in the city that never sleeps, with thousands of elevators all around us, maybe my fantasy will come true.

Me: It still is, baby.

She never responds to my text, and my self-control debates whether or not I should push her for more. I finally sleep on it for only four hours, and as soon as dawn kicks in and the sun rises, I send another text.

Me: Are you free today for a coffee? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.

I have back-to-back meetings this morning with stakeholders and agents. I email Kate asking her to send me today’s schedule all while I wait. Considering it’s only six-thirty in the morning, I don’t expect a response until my phone lights up.

Charlotte: That depends. Do I get a chocolate brownie as well?

My lips curve upward into a smile, and resting back into my chair, I read her text again. I had forgotten what it felt like to smile, to look forward to something, or should I say someone, to feel those damn butterflies that women always ramble on about. Fuck, when did I become such a pussy?

Me: Depends on what you’re wearing.

I can’t help myself. Maybe they are horny butterflies since they’ve been kept in captivity for so long. She texts me the address and warns me to behave.

Fuck, here we go again. My cock throbs as she calls me Mr. Edwards. The image of whips, kinky shit, and a librarian come to my mind. It does nothing to ease the tension.

And so I force myself to ignore it, attempting to concentrate on work. I fail miserably. I can’t focus during my first meeting. I have stakeholders talking my ear off about profits, revenue, and budgets. Thankfully, I have Kate there to take notes.

“I have a quick catch-up with an old friend,” I advise Kate at the end of our meeting.

“That’s fine, Mr. Edwards. Your next meeting is a lunch meeting at midday.” She tells me she’ll email me the details, then we part ways.

I take a cab to Café York, a small coffee shop, very cozy and intimate. It’s just before eleven when I arrive, and Charlotte hasn’t arrived yet. I check my phone to see if she has texted me until a surge of warm air floats past me.

“Sorry, it’s been one of those crazy mornings.”

Charlotte hovers at the table, out of breath. My eyes wander toward her shoes—Louboutins—my fantasy right there. Controlling myself, I lift my gaze slowly up her legs to the high-waisted skirt, thick black belt, and finally, the black pin-stripe shirt, slightly unbuttoned revealing the top curves of her beautiful tits.

Today, she’s wearing reading glasses.

Kill me now.

I stand, leaning in to kiss her cheek, the gesture making her body stiffen. I’m not immune to her scent, its purity and seductiveness all rolled into one, but I need to control myself if I want to keep her around me.

We both sit, ordering coffees and, of course, her brownie, the waiter quick to serve us.

“Charlotte, about Saturday night—

“Can we just drop the subject?” she interjects. “Adriana explained the whole Samantha thing to me.”

“You spoke to Adriana about the other night?”

“Well, no, I mean, yes. I had lunch with her yesterday. She mentioned Samantha and explained what happened which I can only assume she heard from you since she wasn’t at the club. I was pretty wasted. I don’t recall much of the night.”

“Would you like me to refresh your memory?” I tease.

She smiles, only slightly. “How about we keep that a secret?”

I change the subject, not wanting to push her any further. “So, you’re a lawyer?”

“Yes. Nikki and I opened our practice about a year ago.”

The waiter returns with our coffees and the brownie. I welcome the caffeine hit, exhausted from the lack of sleep and change in time zone.

“That’s quite an achievement,” I tell her, prying into her past with a desperate need to learn more. “Where did you study?”

“Yale. I pretty much worked my ass off to get where I am.”

Her ass. Don’t. Fucking. Go. There.

“So, you came here after…” I don’t want to say the words, cautious of her wary expression.

“No, I went to live with my grandmother in Connecticut. She passed away about five months after I arrived.” Charlotte lowers her gaze toward the table, running her fingers along the rim of the cup. “She was an amazing woman. She taught me a lot during that time. After she passed, I wanted to make her proud. So, I got into Yale, studied hard, then moved here with Nikki and started my career.”

I reach out to touch her hand. “I’m sorry about your grandmother.”

Her phone starts vibrating on the table, breaking our conversation.

“Sorry, I need to take this…” She answers abruptly with, “Tate.” Listening to the voice on the other end, I watch her eyes roll in frustration. “Fine. I’ll be there, but I’m telling you, we won’t settle for that amount.”

This isn’t the Charlotte I know. This woman is a hard-ass. Fuck, it’s turning me on.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, hanging up the phone.

“It’s fine. I get it, the whole work thing.”

“So, what is it you do, Mr. Edwards?”

Oh no, there she goes again.

“Too much, I can’t keep track anymore. I’m a workaholic.”

Call me Mr. Edwards again. Pretty please.

She takes a bite of her brownie, licking her lips with enjoyment. Is there a restroom in here? My pants feel like they are two sizes too small. My brain tries to remember the closest hotel, desperate to take her anywhere and shove my cock inside that beautiful mouth of hers.


She licks her lips again. “I’ve had better.”

I take the fork off her plate, tasting a piece. “Tastes perfect to me.”

We sit there, quiet with tension mounting between us. Her chest is heaving, and my focus is all on her lips. Biting down, she doesn’t realize how tempting she is with a simple, innocent stare.

Despite my reluctance to do so, I need to inform her of my intentions, rather than her assuming I’m leaving her without a goodbye. “I’m heading back to London tonight.”

Her demeanor changes instantly as the words leave my mouth, eyes widening as her brows furrow. The change catches me by surprise, so quickly, I reassure her, “I expect to be back in New York next Friday.”

“As in, two weeks away?” she asks, quietly.

Averting my eyes, my chest tightens at the realization I’m about to leave her again. Good ole Lex, you just can’t get your shit together. I want to stay with her, but the meetings scheduled in London are crucial to the Lexed Group. They have taken months to plan, one of them a business conference with shareholders in attendance.

“Yes,” I say, watching her grab her purse.

“I’ve really got to go.” She stands, avoiding eye contact. “My next meeting is in twenty minutes.”

“Can I call or text you?” I beg, standing up.

“I’m really booked up with appointments this week and a few events I need to attend.”

“With Julian?” I ask, regretting it immediately.

“Lex, don’t.”

“Charlotte, c’mon…” I reach out my hand, but she recoils. “Why do you have to go? Please stay a little while longer.”

“Goodbye, Lex.” She storms out of the coffee shop, and once again, my whole world is crashing down around me.

Leaving me here alone, I try to figure out what I’ve done so wrong. I told her my intentions of going back to London and of my return date. Surely, as a business owner herself, she knows the kind of responsibilities I have to uphold.

But something changed in her, and I don’t know why.

This isn’t goodbye—far from it.

I’m going to go to London to sort out all the shit there, then get set up here. All I have to do is get through the next two weeks without seeing her.

If I can last nine years without her, I can last two damn weeks. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Yes, I can do that.

I’m used to being in control.

Then why does it fucking hurt like hell to leave?


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