Going Down (Quickies #1) Read Online Free
Author: Cassie Cross
strangely enough, put me instantly at ease.
“Good evening.” As I slid into the car, I half expected Carter to be waiting for me. I allowed myself to feel one fell swoop of disappointment before my nerves picked up again and I sank into the soft seat, the buttery leather smooth against my legs.
As the driver pulled away from the curb and out into traffic, I drummed my fingertips against my knee, trying to quell the anticipation that was building up inside of me. It was ridiculous how anxious I was to see Carter. Sure, I did the responsible thing and ran a few searches on him online, but I’d spent a grand total of ten minutes with the guy, angry for a good seven or eight of them. Yet every nerve in my body was thrumming, dying to be close to him again.
The ride to Carter’s apartment was a little slow going, given the ever-present gridlock. I got lost in my thoughts, working through the nervousness, wondering exactly what I was expecting out of tonight, and trying to temper those expectations. Was I just going along with the plan to get Paige out of the office last night? Was I expecting an actual date? Was I actually going to sleep with him if given the opportunity? My mind swam with possibilities, and I decided to just go with the flow. I was going to follow wherever the night took me.
I was so distracted that I completely lost track of time, so I was surprised when the driver pulled to a stop in front of a building on a residential street. I stepped out when the driver opened the door and I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I didn’t know exactly where I was, but I could tell that we were somewhere in Central Park West.
A doorman walked over to where I was standing on the sidewalk, then offered me his arm. I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow, wondering if this was how the other half lived, immersed in luxury with men waiting to escort them inside of their building whenever they stepped out of a car. I could get used to life like that, who couldn’t?
“Good evening, Miss Moore,” the doorman said as he led me toward the building’s entrance. “Right this way.”
I looked up, admiring the architecture. I imagined Carter living in some modern-looking high rise, not a pre-war building with a uniform-wearing, manners-having doorman. The night started off with a surprise, and I figured that had to be a good thing.
The lobby of Carter’s building was all marble and leather and fresh flowers and decorations that probably cost more money than I’d ever have in a lifetime. It was difficult, not feeling a little ridiculous in a building like this, being escorted by a doorman. I should’ve been wearing Chanel, not a cute little dress that I’d gotten at a boutique sale at the end of last summer. I wondered if the few people milling around the lobby knew how out of place I was here, that I sometimes shopped at discount stores and ate toaster pastries for breakfast.
The doorman led me past the main elevator bank and into a small vestibule off to the side, then waved a key card in front of a black panel on the wall. A minute later the door opened, and the doorman entered a code into the keypad on the right side of the elevator.
Carter had a private elevator.
“Enjoy your evening,” he said, smiling as he stepped back into the lobby, disappearing behind the closing doors.
I wasn’t claustrophobic, but I felt it every second of that elevator ride.
Up, up, up.
To the penthouse.
CHAPTER FOUR
The elevator doors opened right into Carter’s apartment, if that’s what one could call this bigger-than-my-whole-apartment, right-out-of-a-catalog room. And it was only the foyer . I stepped out, and Carter was right there waiting for me, somehow managing to look casual in a pair of dark slacks and yet another white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, again, like he just knew that was one of my weaknesses.
I was going to need strength to make it through
“Good evening.” As I slid into the car, I half expected Carter to be waiting for me. I allowed myself to feel one fell swoop of disappointment before my nerves picked up again and I sank into the soft seat, the buttery leather smooth against my legs.
As the driver pulled away from the curb and out into traffic, I drummed my fingertips against my knee, trying to quell the anticipation that was building up inside of me. It was ridiculous how anxious I was to see Carter. Sure, I did the responsible thing and ran a few searches on him online, but I’d spent a grand total of ten minutes with the guy, angry for a good seven or eight of them. Yet every nerve in my body was thrumming, dying to be close to him again.
The ride to Carter’s apartment was a little slow going, given the ever-present gridlock. I got lost in my thoughts, working through the nervousness, wondering exactly what I was expecting out of tonight, and trying to temper those expectations. Was I just going along with the plan to get Paige out of the office last night? Was I expecting an actual date? Was I actually going to sleep with him if given the opportunity? My mind swam with possibilities, and I decided to just go with the flow. I was going to follow wherever the night took me.
I was so distracted that I completely lost track of time, so I was surprised when the driver pulled to a stop in front of a building on a residential street. I stepped out when the driver opened the door and I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I didn’t know exactly where I was, but I could tell that we were somewhere in Central Park West.
A doorman walked over to where I was standing on the sidewalk, then offered me his arm. I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow, wondering if this was how the other half lived, immersed in luxury with men waiting to escort them inside of their building whenever they stepped out of a car. I could get used to life like that, who couldn’t?
“Good evening, Miss Moore,” the doorman said as he led me toward the building’s entrance. “Right this way.”
I looked up, admiring the architecture. I imagined Carter living in some modern-looking high rise, not a pre-war building with a uniform-wearing, manners-having doorman. The night started off with a surprise, and I figured that had to be a good thing.
The lobby of Carter’s building was all marble and leather and fresh flowers and decorations that probably cost more money than I’d ever have in a lifetime. It was difficult, not feeling a little ridiculous in a building like this, being escorted by a doorman. I should’ve been wearing Chanel, not a cute little dress that I’d gotten at a boutique sale at the end of last summer. I wondered if the few people milling around the lobby knew how out of place I was here, that I sometimes shopped at discount stores and ate toaster pastries for breakfast.
The doorman led me past the main elevator bank and into a small vestibule off to the side, then waved a key card in front of a black panel on the wall. A minute later the door opened, and the doorman entered a code into the keypad on the right side of the elevator.
Carter had a private elevator.
“Enjoy your evening,” he said, smiling as he stepped back into the lobby, disappearing behind the closing doors.
I wasn’t claustrophobic, but I felt it every second of that elevator ride.
Up, up, up.
To the penthouse.
CHAPTER FOUR
The elevator doors opened right into Carter’s apartment, if that’s what one could call this bigger-than-my-whole-apartment, right-out-of-a-catalog room. And it was only the foyer . I stepped out, and Carter was right there waiting for me, somehow managing to look casual in a pair of dark slacks and yet another white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, again, like he just knew that was one of my weaknesses.
I was going to need strength to make it through
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