His Secretary:Undone(9)

He breaks into a wicked grin. "I'll bet you do. But I know you like to swim. You've got that trophy on your desk."

So I do. It's been there so long, I've been there so long, it just  blends into the background. "Yeah, well, that was a long time ago."

"No one spontaneously starts to hate swimming, unless they almost  drowned. And if you almost drowned, you wouldn't keep your swim meet  trophy on your desk." He makes a voila sort of gesture.

"Wow. Great. You're like Columbo." I shift my weight from one foot to  the other, but that doesn't really help the tingle between my legs.  "Maybe I just don't have the time or energy, because my boss is a crazy  person."

"You're not working now," he points out.

"Yeah, but I should be."

He laughs a little. "I'll give you two weeks of paid vacation if you get in right now."

Gaping at him, I shake my head. "What?"

"You heard me." He lifts two fingers. "Extra. Paid. As soon as the  signing and the conference are over, before the busy season starts  again. Just get in the pool splash around a little. Unless you're too  scared."

My lips curl into a thin line. "I'm not scared," I insist.

"Good, then you have no reason not to do it." His eyes sparkle. "I'll be  happy to actually get out and throw you in, if that'll make it easier."

"Right," I mutter. "You're going to pick me up."

Something dark flashes across his face, but it passes quickly. "That sounds an awful lot like a challenge."

"Trust me, you don't want to hurt yourself."

He frowns. "I'm not sure which one of us you're trying to insult, but if  it's you, I'll kindly ask you to back off. That's my job."

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.

He's not complaining, though.

My thighs are still wrapped around his leg like a vise. I reach into his  swim trunks and grab him, throbbing and pulsing in my hand, long and  thick like I imagined Dirk's would be. Not that this is really about  Dirk and Amanda anymore. I'm starting to doubt it ever was.

How long have I wanted to do this? How many times have I pushed aside  thoughts of how good he looked, those sinful lips, those  expertly-tailored trousers that left no doubt in my mind which side he  dressed to? You could almost count the change in his pockets, if he  carried any, which of course he doesn't. Ruins the line of the suit.