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“I’m not here to talk business, Katie.” He takes a seat beside me. It’s the only time he’s ever called me by my first name.
I pull my feet from the pool and tuck them beside me. I should return to the party. But I can’t seem to force myself to walk away from Michael.
“Then what are you here for?” My voice comes out wrong, too high and breathy.
“A swimming buddy.” He reaches for my foot and pulls it into his lap. He starts a slow massage of my arch, using his thumb to hit a pressure point.
It creates an answering zing that travels from the sole of my foot to the apex of my thighs. I enjoy the sensation even as I know it’s wrong for us to be doing this.
“Someone could see,” I warn him.
“Then they’ll see that you have a very attentive boss,” he answers without the slightest hint of concern in his voice.
He moves his thumb higher to the base of my big toe.
I let out a moan only to clamp a hand over my mouth, embarrassed by my unexpected reaction.
He chuckles and switches to my other foot, giving it the same gentle massage. “I like a woman who shows her satisfaction.”
He slowly slides his hand higher. His fingers brush the crinoline that gives my skirt a full look. Knowing his fingers are up under my dress makes my panties damp as I imagine him going just a little further north.
He cups my calf, his talented fingers easing the muscle aches from wearing those damn shoes. “You carry a lot of tension in your legs.”
“That’s not the only place I’m tense.” Did I really just say that? Am I actually flirting with my boss right now?
He inhales sharply. “Where else?”
I swallow, trying not to think of Brent. He always acted weird about the fact that I wanted to be touched, that I wanted to touch him. “Between my thighs.” The three words are a whispered plea.
Michael’s fingers ghost along my thighs, rubbing slow circles. Now I’m wondering what it would be like to have him be my first. Like he’d want you.
He continues with his torturous circles until I’m spreading my legs, a clear invitation for him to go upward.
But Michael doesn’t rush. He continues the same motions on different parts of my thigh, the front and the back and the inside.
Finally, I provide a little coaching. Maybe he didn’t understand what I was saying earlier. “Higher.”
He stops massaging me but doesn’t move his hand from beneath my skirt. Instead he rests it on my thigh, his fingers warm and rough against my skin. “One rule tonight, Katie. I’ll decide when and how you take your pleasure.”
I gasp even as there’s a fresh surge of moisture between my legs.
I’m not sure if I’m willing to give him control. I’ve read about it. I’ve written twenty-seven stories about this sort of thing. Still, that doesn’t mean I’ve ever trusted someone else with my body. “But will I get it?”
“On my terms, but only mine.”
“So, I have no say in this?” Even as I ask the question, something about it excites me. I like the idea of surrendering, of having Michael be in charge of my body.
He moves his hands from underneath my dress. Then he tilts my chin up and his gaze drops to my lips. “You either trust me to satisfy you in every way or you don’t.”
I lick my lips. “I want that.”
He lowers his head, pressing his lips against mine. His kiss isn’t a gentle exploration. This kiss is fierce, demanding, possessive. As if he’s trying to brand me with his lips alone.
Tingles race down my spine and my muscles go weak, buckling against him. I’ve never been kissed with this much passion, never felt so consumed by a man in a single moment.
He puts his arms around me to steady me, his fingers digging into my curves. Then he growls, making a possessive noise in the back of his throat.
When he finally lifts his head, my lips feel swollen and my core aches. If my body responded to a kiss with Michael this way, then I can only imagine what the chemistry would be like if there were no clothes between us.
