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“Why not?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m getting nowhere with you.”
His smooth voice clouds my vision. “Why don’t you stop hiding behind the water and come a little closer, then I can get a better look at you.”
“I’m not hiding,” I hear the squeak in my voice and want to drown myself.
He lifts his chin in silent order, and I slowly inch my way closer. His posture stays relaxed as he sinks into the water so that his lips crest just above the smooth surface.
He’s still feet away, but his effect is lethal, my arms feel like lead now as I swim toward him. Predatory hazel eyes roam over me as if he’s deciding where to sink his teeth in first. I love it, the draw, the sizzle growing in the chlorine perfumed air. I’m in way over my head with this one, and we both know it.
“Penny for your thoughts?” My voice is shaking. The tension is too much. When I’m within reach, he strikes, capturing me by the waist and pulling me to stand before him. I yelp and then giggle as his eyes glitter over my chest, his breath hot on the triangle between my thighs skimming the surface. My nipples draw tight as his fingers ghost along my hip. He’s still crouched in the shallow end, while I stand above him, his every exhale hitting the thin material at the apex between my legs, whispering over my clit. I fight a moan.
“You want my thoughts?” He whispers roughly, “Is that what you want?”
I slowly dip my chin.
The rumbling of an approaching car snaps me out of my stupor, but Sean drags me right back in when his knuckles drift in a light dance along my stomach.
“I’m thinking we don’t have enough time for this discussion.” His voice is jagged as he tilts his head, his hand pushing the soaked hair away from my chest as he slowly stands to tower above me. He’s so close, the droplets of water like diamonds on his skin. My eyes trace a few scars on his pecs and biceps as I run my tongue along my lower lip, my core tightening in anticipation.
He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple, his fingers sliding down my shoulder with his whisper. “Thanks for the swim.”
Drawing my brows, I hear the repetitive roar of an engine out front.
“Wait…what about my car?”
“Parked out front.”
“You drove my car here? But you don’t have a key.”
“Worked at a garage, remember?”
“So, you’re a locksmith too?”
His mouth hitches in a smirk. “Sure.”
“Well then, thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome, I guess,” he mimics me perfectly, including the disappointment in my tone. I’d wanted him to kiss me, and the arrogant bastard knew it. I can sense his high from my frustration. He’s playing games. It should anger me, but I like this game too much already. He lifts himself from the pool, grabs his T-shirt and pulls it on. Disappointment thrums through me as he slips on his glasses, pulls a cigarette from his pack, tilts his head, and flicks his Zippo to light it. Glancing down at me, he lets out a plume of smoke. “See you at work.”
“WHAT SWEET HELL IS THIS?” I mutter beneath my breath as I grab another tub. I’m making calculators. Correction, I’m doing quality control on Horner Tech’s newly manufactured calculators. It only took an hour into my shift to make the decision not to piss away college and start critically thinking about my future. This is not my dream job, not by a long shot. Not long after I started my shift, I formed a respect for my co-workers. I’m sure it’s not their dream job either, but they do it religiously to provide for their families, and in no way can I fault them, nor judge them for that, regardless of how unsatisfying the work is for me.
But this can’t be my future.
I’ll go fucking insane. Three hours in, I’m glancing at my watch and again cursing the position I’m in. A year of this?
Not only that, I’ve been commissioned to work with the Chatty Cathy next to me, who appears to be the plant gossip and works at the speed of light, making me look like a fumbling toddler. All I have to do is give her a nod and she seems satisfied with the return conversation.
It’s when I’m in my fourth hour that I smell the familiar scent of cedar and nicotine. His breath hits my ear.
“How’s it going, Pup?”
I turn to see Sean mirroring me in wardrobe, khakis, and a short-sleeved collared button-down, which doesn’t do
a damn thing to take away from his appeal. He’s got a clipboard in hand as he grins down at me. Ms. Chatterbox’s eyes volley between us, her interest piqued at the exchange.
“Pure adrenaline,” I deadpan, and he laughs as I scratch my ear beneath my hairnet.
