He flicks a bit of water in my direction, but I dodge it. "Also, Ms. Burns, I could definitely bench-press you."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." I'm staring at the water, actually contemplating his insane offer. "I don't want to get my clothes wet."
"Well, you have two options, then." He feigns a thoughtful expression. "One, I'm pretty sure you can figure out on your own. I'd have to check the employee handbook, but I think it's probably a textbook example of things bosses aren't supposed to suggest to their employees. Two, you've got a bag of brand-new clothes to wear. Right in this very building."
"I'm pretty sure bosses aren't supposed to trade vacation time for wet t-shirt contests, either."
"Meghan. I'm offended." His voice drips with sinful promise, or maybe that's just my denied libido going into overdrive. "This isn't about me, this is about you having a little fun for once."
At that, I let out a very undignified guffaw. "Are you serious? You know you're the reason why I can't have any fun, right?"
"And that's exactly why it's up to me to fix it."
"You know what? Fine. This is ridiculous." I kick off my shoes, violently enough that they skitter across the floor. "You think I'm too uptight? Fine. Fine."
"I didn't say that."
Something inside me has snapped. I don't know what or why. Maybe it's just the cumulative effect of five years of this bullshit, and then having the enjoyment of my books taken away, and my friendship with Natalie, and now I've realized the only thing I really want is standing right in front of me with a maddening smile, but he might as well be ten thousand miles away, for how likely that is.
I'm unrolling my pantyhose, because that just seems like a bad idea in the pool, and Adrian is staring at me so hard I'm afraid I might catch on fire. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.
"Meghan, I was just kidding about the…"
I look up at him. He's…flustered, actually. And not in a bad way, which is a surprise. He looks intrigued, and a little…
Excited?
"What? Which part?" I throw the balled-up hose in the same vague direction as my shoes. "Relax, I just wanted to have some traction. I'm not going to corrupt your virgin eyeballs."
"The stripping," he says, a little quieter this time. "I was kidding about the stripping. Not the deal."
Of course he was. Adrian Risinger probably has a Victoria's Secret model waiting for him at home. Me, I don't even qualify as a "plus size" model. Too squidgy around the middle. Too many stretch marks. They don't even have cellulite, for fuck's sake. Whatever perfect creature Adrian bought that nightie for, she certainly only has curves in the exact right places.
I'm stepping into the water, and he's staring at me with something like awe. He didn't really expect me to do it. For once, I win - kind of. "How many weeks of vacation would I get for skinny-dipping with you?"
He shakes his head, slowly, his eyes locked on mine. "Don't, Meghan," he says, and I watch his grip around the edge of the pool tighten. "I know this is a laughable request, coming from me, but - have mercy."
This is ridiculous. He's got no reason to want to see me naked, except being on a massive power trip. "I don't think I will, on account of the security cameras," I tell him. I'm walking towards him, closing the distance between us, but he's not moving. "But what if I just stripped down to my bra and panties? That's basically no different than a bikini."
I've never worn a bikini in my life, but it's worth it to see the look on his face.
Maybe it's the full moon, or the saline seeping into his brain, but Adrian Risinger looks like he actually wants me. Me. I'm so giddy I've almost forgotten that I want him even more.
Oh well, I still have the upper hand. Right?
Is that how this works?
It's so long since I've been in mutual lust, I'm not even sure anymore.
"Not for the cameras," he says, quietly. "Please."
I smile at him. "But for you?"
His chest is rising and falling, very quickly. "Are you wearing a wire, Ms. Burns?"
Laughing softly, I take one more step towards him. We're close enough to touch, now. "Yeah, you got me. This is all part of a giant sting operation to finally make you pay for your multitude of sins. And I was the best bait they could come up with."
"Sounds plausible so far." He licks his lips, watching me.
"Fine." I grab his hand, and bring it to my stomach. His eyes are like saucers. "If you don't want me to strip in front of the cameras, then you can feel for yourself. No wires. No mind control devices. Just me."
His fingers splay out, feeling, caressing, his other hand joining in and pulling me closer. I make a little encouraging sound as his fingers pluck at the hooks of my bra, unfastening it under my shirt so he can slide under and feel my breasts, floating free in the water.
My arms hook around his neck as he presses his leg between my thighs, and I let out a keening moan. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's been too long.
"If you wanted me, you should've just asked," he whispers, grabbing my hips and sliding me even closer until I can feel his hot, hard length pressing against my inner thigh. "I'll always make reasonable accommodations for an employee's health and comfort."
"Shut up," I whisper back.
He grins.
Swallowing hard, I try to still my movements. I need to stay in control of this situation. "How many weeks do I get for a kiss?" I ask him, turning my face up to his.
He shakes his head. "No bribes for that," he says, roughly. "If you want to kiss me, kiss me."
I do, and I do.
Until it's actually happening, I don't realize how badly I've wanted this, and for how long. It's five years worth of wanting. Five years worth of anger and frustration and misunderstandings and pure hostility. Five years of lust, five years of wanting to know what he tastes like.
Bourbon and citrus, it turns out.
Our tongues are at war, but he wins. And that's fine with me. While he plunders my mouth, his fingers find me, slipping underneath my panties, and if only we weren't in a pool he'd feel exactly how wet I am.
I can't hold back. The edges of my climax spark to life almost instantly, embarrassingly so, and it usually takes me a while to get used to a new lover's touch. Not that I've tried, lately.
He breaks the kiss, but he keeps his head close to mine, and we're breathing each other's breaths as lose myself to the rhythm of his fingers.
"Ah!" I cry out, sharply, as the pleasure crashes through my system. I don't know if it's one long orgasm or ten short ones, but by the time I'm finished shaking and moaning, he must have a cramp in his wrist.