It’s beyond me where she finds the energy, but she turns herself over and spreads herself on my front, edging up to get our faces level. I just about manage to keep my eyes open. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re insanely good in bed?”
“All the time,” I pant, unable to fight off her playful whack of my head. I really am good for nothing. “But it’s never been this good for me.”
“Never?”
“Never,” I confirm, squaring a serious look on her, at the same time hoping she feels the same.
“We fit just right, don’t we?” she asks, almost thoughtful. I cheer on the inside. Yes, we do, and I’m so happy she thinks so, too. “It freaks me out.”
I don’t like that bit so much. “Why?”
Her fingertip meets my temple and traces a line down to my chin, her eyes following. “Because it’s too perfect.”
I stall for a response to that, wondering if she’s right. “Is that a bad thing?”
Her dainty shoulders shrug a little, and she kisses me delicately on the lips. “I don’t know yet.”
Yet? “Are you expecting to know anytime soon?” Surely too perfect is . . . well, better than perfect. And since perfect is already perfect, what’s the problem?
She smiles, sitting up on my lap and dangling her legs off the edge of the lounger either side. “I’ll let you know when I’ve figured it out.”
“I have an idea.” I bring my arms up under my head, propping me up a little.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t try to figure it out.”
“Why?” Lainey places her palms on my chest.
“Because we’re perfect together. Leave it there and enjoy.”
“Sounds simple.”
“Because it is. Stop over-complicating it.”
She studies me for a moment before mildly nodding her head. “I love my job,” she begins tentatively. I’m quick to open my mouth to reassure her, but her hand is over my lips before I can speak. “Just listen to me.” An impressive scowl is pointed at me. “I love my job, but I hate being at work knowing you’re nearby and I can’t throw myself at you.”
My eyebrow quirks. “Throw yourself at me?” I mumble against her palm, and she rolls her eyes.
“I mean, it’s really hard to be professional when all I want to do is eat you up.”
My grin is massive. Fucking huge, probably stretching wider than her hand across my face. She rolls her eyes again, and I take her hand and pull it away from my mouth, just so she can really see how happy that makes me. Fucking delirious. “You might have to start handcuffing me to my desk before I give in to temptation.”
Now Lainey grins too. “It’s so hard, isn’t it?”
“Not at the moment.” I flex my hips up. “But a little suck might solve the problem.”
She giggles, falling forward onto my chest, and my arms are around her fast, my nose taking a hit of her hair. “You’re so funny.”
“And you love me.” I so didn’t mean to say that, and when Lainey stiffens in my hold, I freeze. And so does my brain, giving me nothing to redeem myself. What a stupid thing to say. So fucking stupid. Where the hell did that come from?
“We should get a shower,” she says, lifting from my embrace, refusing to look me in the eye. I want to blow my brains out. What a twat.
I let her up, searching my dumb mind for the right thing to say, as I watch her step under the spray of the shower by the pool. I drag myself up, dispose of the condom, and join her, but it’s uncomfortable as we both wash the chlorine away. And when she steps out, drying and dressing while I look on, I decide I can’t take the atmosphere any more.
“It was just a figure of speech,” I say, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel.
“I know,” she accepts easily. Too easily.
“I wasn’t suggesting that you actually love me.” I smile awkwardly when she flicks her eyes up to mine.
“I know,” she says again, laughing. It’s an exaggerated laugh. “You going to get dressed, or walk up to your apartment in the buff?”
I look at my naked body, and then around the vicinity for my clothes, locating my trousers and fetching them. As I slip them on, I continue the cursing party in my head, wishing I could take back the stupid statement that’s taken our moment from blissful to awkward. The tension is thick. Horrible. I don’t like it, and worried by the prospect of the remainder of our night being cloaked in this dreadful atmosphere, I take drastic action. My time with Lainey already feels like it’s limited way too much. I’ll be buggered if I’m ruining what time I do get.
After slipping my arms into the sleeves of my shirt, I leave the buttons unfastened and sling my tie around my neck. “Right,” I declare, grabbing her attention. She looks at me, maybe a little worried, as I stalk toward her.
“What?” she questions, backing up, and that maybe worry quickly transforming into definite worry. Could even be anxiety.
“Get here, you.” I grab her and throw her up over my shoulder, swatting her arse playfully.
Her startled yelp turns into a laugh. “You’re such a nut, Christianson.”
So I slap her backside again, and she yelps on another laugh. Okay, now things are looking much better again. It’s all I can do not to wipe the beads of stressed sweat from my brow. I feel like I nearly lost her just then.
As I pace back up to my apartment, I make a point of slapping her arse every few paces, spiking endless shrieks and a few return slaps of my arse in the process. Better. Much better. “Are you hungry?” I ask as we breach the entrance of my kitchen. I place her on her feet and wait for the few seconds it takes her to brush her wet hair from her face.
“Not really.”
“Thirsty?”
“Oh, we left the wine by the pool.”
I pass her and go to the fridge, pulling out a fresh bottle and grabbing two new glasses down, waving them at her. “Backup supplies. Bed or couch?”
“Couch.”
“Great, couch it is.” I usher her from the kitchen and into the lounge, pointing at the sofa with the bottle. While she makes herself comfy, I pour the wine, hearing my phone ringing. Handing a glass to Lainey, I get my mobile from my pocket and reject Jenna’s call before joining Lainey on the couch.
“Oh, no,” she sighs dramatically, making my glass pause midway to my lips.
“What?”
“You want to talk again, don’t you?”
I laugh and take a sip of my wine. “I like to hear what you have to say. Is that a terribly bad thing?”
“Of course.” She waggles an eyebrow cheekily. “You don’t want me to think that this is all about the sex for you.”
“Is it for you?” I fire back without much thought.
“No, it’s about beating my fear of water, too.”
I laugh. Oh, she’s cute. I don’t tell her that for me, this is also about beating her fear of surrendering herself to a man again. And it’s probably not wise to mention that I want to be that man. Although, and I don’t want to count my chickens and all that, I feel like she’s slowly letting her guard down.
Then I consider her reaction when I picked her up from her apartment earlier. She virtually sprinted into my arms. Yes, we were all over each other. Desperate. But I can still honestly say I’ve never reacted like this toward any other woman before. Fuck, she’s irresistible. And even though she rags me about wanting to talk, we have had a few incidental conversations and text messages where I’ve learned more about her crazy dry sense of humor. And just now by the pool, she said some pretty deep stuff. She’s witty, sarcastic, smart, fun, determined, and I like that. I like her.