I Like Being Watched

One of her arms moved inward, softly stroking over her breast.

And it was right then that her head tilted and her gaze landed on me, a soft smile teasing her lips.

She knew.

She'd known from the moment she'd started to strip out of her clothes that I was there, that I was watching.

Fuck.

Her legs rose up, then pulled in, meeting her chest for the barest of seconds before she was twisting them to right herself upward again.

She stayed there for a long, daring second, gaze fixed on mine, before that smirk stretched wider, and then disappeared as she dove under the water and started to swim a lap.

Almost as if she was saying Catch me if you can. If you dare.

I was on my feet and kicking out of my shoes before I could even think the better of it.

I had enough common sense to drop my phone on the chair before I made my way to the pool stairs as she started her lap in that direction.

I could.

I dared.

And I was done denying myself the one thing I wanted.

Her.

Ten

Wynn

Of course I'd known he was in the pool room.

That was the main reason I'd gone in there.

I mean, sure, I had just hauled all the plants out of the garage that I'd gotten dropped off from the local nursery. But there were ones I'd wanted to move into other parts of the house as well. I didn't have to put the ones in the pool room first.

But when I'd seen him heading off in that direction, likely to see the damage Blake's party guests had done, so he could replace the furniture—a task I had already done the legwork of, and was just waiting to show him the order to sign off on—I saw it as one last chance to entice the man.

I told myself this would be it.

I wouldn't do it again.

I would just get my one last fill, and then I would find a way to keep my presence in his home strictly professional. I could find some new target outside of work to fulfill my fantasies with.

With that decision in mind, I'd taken my time with it. No flirty bend-overs to show off my ass, or sudden movements that made my boobs pop out.

Oh, no.

I did a full-on striptease beside that pool, making every single movement slow and sensual, wanting to drive him to the brink before I was even fully naked, and then push him over as I leaned back beside the pool, as I got in and floated, knowing full well that my breasts would glide just above the surface of the water, that the dark liner would obscure most of what else was beneath. A peekaboo effect that would drive any man out of his mind with need.

One look at his face said I'd accomplished my goal.

His eyes were blue fire, sparking, igniting, burning across every inch of exposed skin.

That was the thrill I needed.

Him liking what he saw.

Him wanting me.

Telling myself that would be enough, that I needed to at least attempt to make it look like I wasn't trying to drive my boss crazy, I dunked under the water, then started to swim some laps.

To make it look like swimming had always been my intention, sure. But also to burn off some of the excess sexual energy that was pinging off every nerve ending, making me feel frazzled and fuzzy, a little more out of control than usual.

I needed the exercise to get my mind right again.

That was all I was expecting.

So I threw everything into it.

I hadn't been expecting, well, him.

To have had enough.

To lose the grip on his control.

All I knew was that one moment, I was swimming laps.

The next, hands were reaching into the water, grabbing me at my sides, and lifting me upward.

I barely had a chance for my eyes to open, to take in my boss standing in the water fully dressed, before his lips were crashing down on mine.

Harder, hungrier than I even could have imagined.

Fitzwilliam Buchanan had always come across as cool, calm, collected, and completely in control over himself.

He had no control right then, though, as he turned me, slamming me back against the unyielding wall of the pool as his lips slanted over mine.

Fitz's hand rose, grabbing the back of my neck with borderline painful pressure as his lips bruised into mine for a long moment.

I was helpless to do anything but kiss back.

I didn't want to do anything but kiss him back.

It should have ruined it.

That was what I always thought in my head. If things went from exhibition and voyeurism to actual physical touch, the magic would be gone for me, I would be over it.

But I was far from over it.

The magic was alive and well.

It sizzled across my nerve endings, the heat mixed with the cold water creating a strange sort of chaos in my overstimulated system, making me tremble hard once. Enough that Fitz felt it, his lips suddenly going more gentle, more explorative. His hand softened on my neck, massaging absentmindedly as his mouth got to know mine.