Page 59 of Lying to the Boss

“That I can agree with.”

His lips find mine as I slide my hands around him, pulling him flush against me.

“Let’s get naked and go in the pool,” he says as he pulls back, biting his bottom lip.

“You have the best ideas.”

Tage winks as he lifts his shirt. We get undressed and head outside, the warm Florida air kissing our skin. The soft trickle of water is all that can be heard out here. Houses are placed half a mile apart along the beach, to be truly private.

This was one of the older resorts I consulted on, at the beginning of my career. They’ve done a lot of upgrades but didn’t change my original vision.

The pool isn’t too big, definitely not something you can swim laps in, but it’s the perfect size for relaxing with a special someone. Which is exactly what we’re here for. I opted not to get the room with the hot tub, because I figured we didn’t need it. Perhaps if we come again, for longer, I’ll go all out.

For now, I just want to spend this weekend with Tage.

Preferably naked in the pool.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tage

The water is warm, but not as warm as the air around us. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Florida, and I forgot how hot it gets here. It’s a nice change from the chill that’s setting into Chicago, with fall just hitting us.

Lane and I sit on the inner ledge, the water at our chests. This isn’t the kind of pool you swim in; it’s for relaxing, and nothing more. A place to cool down and sit and enjoy being alone.

Two lounge chairs are set up on the patio with a table between them. Behind them, is a path that leads to the private section of beach assigned to this house. Palm trees and sand surround us. It isn’t a big space, but it’s enough for a wonderful weekend.

I’ve never been to a place like this as an adult. I’ve done my fair share of traveling to fancy places, but this isn’t fancy. Not in the way I’m used to. This isn’t some expensive hotel with snobby staff.

This is the exact thing I enjoy. Lane is right when he says he knows me. And it is a surprise, because I’m not used to it. I was around people for my whole life and they didn’t know me even a fraction of the way Lane does.

And I know him too—now. I judged him hard when I first met him, but he’s proved me wrong on every single level. Since I’ve allowed him in, I haven’t regretted it. Not for a single second. He gives me space when I need it. He pushes me when I need it. All of this without a single explanation on my part. He just… does it. Sure, sometimes he crosses the line, but only to be playful. Sometimes annoying, but it isn’t in a way that makes me mad.

I’m not sure what time it is, but I know it’s late. We’ve been in the water for hours, and it was already late when we got here. I’m not tired though. I slept enough on the plane and in the car.

Back home, a weekend away felt like such a long time to spend. Now that we’re here, night one already behind us, it feels like it’s all ending too soon. We still have the whole day tomorrow and Sunday, but it doesn’t seem like enough.

I don’t even know why I’m complaining because this is my choice. If it were up to him, we’d be doing things like this every day. I’m the reason we don’t; the reason we sleep at our own places instead of together, even though when I’m away from him I miss him.

Lane wants to spoil me, but I won’t let him—not fully. Not the way he really wants to. Because I don’t want him to push his money on me. I don’t want him to try to win my love with money.

I want the life I’ve built, but I also want this—everything he’s giving me, or what he wants to give me, but I won’t allow. Why can’t I have both?

Lane would give me anything I wanted. I know that. But what I want doesn’t really make sense, and I don’t know how to put it into words or explain it without digging into my past—which I don’t want to do. I left Boston and said I was leaving it all behind. I meant that.

I rest my head on his shoulder and find his hand under the water. I close my eyes and breathe. Behind the chlorine, I can smell him. A hint of his cologne and that smell that’s only him.

Lane is different. He’s not what I’m used to. He’s a good man and he isn’t going to use his money against me or treat me like shit because of it. He doesn’t have any expectations for me. He accepts me as who I am.

Yet I’m still holding back.

Maybe I just need more time.

“Are you tired?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “Just very relaxed.”

“Me too.” It’s silent for a moment. “How do you keep from getting stressed out at work?”