“You’re very trusting.”
A little thrill of fear rings in my chest. “I mean… but isn’t it… therearesafety standards here, right?”
There’s laughter in her eyes.
An impulse surges through my muscles, and I splash her. “You’re just messing with me!”
Morgan ducks the light spray and slaps the water, sending a drenching wave over my head. I sputter, knifing the water from my eyes.
“Hey, that’s not fair!” I launch back the biggest splash I can muster.
She throws another right back.
I’m laughing, and she’s laughing, and it’s music and light and life as we have a childish splash battle in an elegant rooftop pool.
I duck my head and muster up the biggest wall of water I can, which means I don’t see Morgan getting closer until the last second—her hands close around my wrists like iron. The sensation trails up my arms, down my spine, and straight into my cock. When I meet her gaze, my chest heaves and my heart races.
Her eyes are predatory, full of hunger and need. But the control she has over herself is as iron as her grip, so we just stand there for a moment, breathing heavily.
Finally, she releases my hands.
“You’re feisty today,” she says. “Now my hair is wet, and I have to shower again. That’s a fire-able offense.”
My idiot brain jumps to the conclusion that if she fires me, launching myself at her will no longer be an HR incident, so I snap back, “Then fire me.”
She takes a deep breath, eyes flaring, and her muscles tense with restraint.
Jamie, what the fuck are you doing…
I want those hands around my wrists again, I want her on top of me, I’ll goad her until I get it. There’s a fogginess to the feelings, a distance—but I want them. I want her.
Her scent slams into me like I want her body to, a deep musk lacing through the whiskey and cedar.
Fuck, I need a cold shower. The coldest shower. I need to be frozen into a block of ice until my brain starts functioning again.
“I’ll let you off just this once,” Morgan says, the warning in her tone forcing me back into my body, dragging me down to earth, anchoring me to the cool sensation of the water on my skin.
I can’t help but watch Morgan climb out of the pool, the water glistening across her skin, beading and rolling down in rivulets.
Then the moment is over, and Morgan returns to sunbathing.
I have no choice but to stay in the pool because these shorts are way too tight to hide my erection. Seems like my cock has recovered from this morning.
I stay tense until Morgan answers a phone call and tells me she’ll meet me later as she walks back toward the locker rooms.
I drift through the water for a while until my cock calms down, then claim Morgan’s chair, where she’s left the sunscreen.
I don’t think Morgan does anything by accident. I reapply.
The sun is warm, and I bask for a little while to dry off. But my mind drifts back to Morgan and I quickly towel myself off and wrap the towel around my waist, hiding the effect of those thoughts.
I wander towards the edge of the roof, and sure enough, with the railing only hip high, I have no intention of getting any closer.
It’s not that I don’t trust the railing, it’s that I don’t trust myself to not fall over. I don’t have a history of fainting oranything, just… Morgan is kind of right—I find it easy to trust anything and anyone other than myself.
And I definitely don’t trust myself even with this towel around my waist, so I retreat from the sun and slip into one of the stall showers of the locker room. Apparently, I’ll have to bereallyproactive in managing my… physiological reactions.
All I have to do is remember the feeling of Morgan’s hands around my wrists, the hunger in her eyes, and I’m hard again. There’s something perversely ironic about using high-end body wash from the dispenser on the wall to slick my cock, about jacking off as hard and fast as I can in this elegant spa shower.
