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“You're getting your degree in Data Analysis, right?”
She nods, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What has that got to do with this?”
I give her a pointed stare, and when she shivers, I notice. “Nothing, actually. I happen to be in dire need of a data analyst, and I think you'll fill the shoes quite well.”
I know I'm thinking fast on my feet, seizing the opportunity, and making the most of it.
“What makes you think I'll be a good fit?”
“Oh, you'll fit quite alright, Beth. I want you on my team.”
“What if I refuse?” she asks, her lower lips clasped between her teeth.
“I think it’s safe to say that Aaron will be very unhappy with you for the next couple of days.”
Her eyes widen and then narrow at me. “You're just-just—"
“A sweetheart? A constant face in your fantasies?” My voice manages to deepen at my words, and I can't believe I'm resorting to such a dirty trick. If I wanted, I could easily use the resources and connections my family has to fill the position. But doing so is equivalent to asking for their help. And now that I thought of it, I really want her there with me. Helping me. When we continue to lock gazes, there's only one sentence that flashes through my mind.I want to fuck Bethany Potter senseless.
“Mitch...” she croaks when I stand close enough to touch.
“Say yes,” I say, holding a groan when her body sways toward mine. “Join my team. You want to, don't you?”
She blinks once and then twice. “Okay,” she finally replies, and I am forced to step back from her even though that's the last thing I want to do.
“Great. I guess we have a deal,” I say, moving away from her. “Uh, by the way, I came to borrow a few tools.” I had almost forgotten the reason why I came over in the first place. “It's down the basement, right?”
She manages a nod and I turn toward the stairs, my breath leaving me in a whoosh the moment I get out of her sight. As I make my way down to the basement, I think to myself,I really hope I know what I’m doing. For both of our sakes.
* * *
It's been two days, five hours, and three minutes since Mitch caught me with my hands between my legs. He didn’t get the full visual, butGod,the sounds I made left little to the imagination. To say I had been mortified would be an understatement. After the strange conversation we'd had about some sort of job, I pretty much locked myself in my room.
My parents had worriedly come to check on me, scared I was moping again. I told them I wasn’t, because I wasn’t thinking about Smith. Mitch has managed to keep me on my toes quite alright, distracting the hell out of me so that Smith is now the last thing on my mind.
As thoughts of him infiltrate my head, I find myself hot and bothered, so I decide to spend the afternoon pool side to cool off. The weather is perfect for soaking in the sun. After being caught, I feel a bit self-conscious about getting off. A part of me knows it might be impossible if I try to get off to the thoughts of someone else. Someone who isn’t Mitch. It’s weird, the way my body craves his, and I somewhat hate it.
My parents have gone on a little getaway. After nearly thirty-five years of marriage, they are still absolutely in love. Their kind of love is something I constantly prayed for. It is the kind I foolishly believed I could experience with Smith until he had shown me that my love wasn’t something he basked in, just merely tolerated.
Determined not to think about Smith, I focus on slipping into my bikini and pushing my long curly hair into a bun. Grabbing my shades and a book, I step out. The almost biting wind feels great against my heated skin. I welcome it; relish in it. And as I settle against the lounge chairs, my eyes move towards Mitch's new home and I briefly wonder again why he purchased this home.
Aaron had told us a couple of times during family dinner how well off the Bridges are doing. A couple of times, their company even made headlines. I can’t understand why Mitch is coming back to the home he bade farewell to, and I find myself feeling suddenly curious. But there is no way I’m going to head over there, not when yesterday’s event still causes me to blush in embarrassment.
As I close my eyes, Mitch’s face appears, eyes darkened from arousal. Even though he had tried to pretend that my actions had been scandalous, I could tell by the look in his eyes he wanted to devour every last bit of me.
I am getting turned on again. God...Sighing in sexual frustration, I shift slightly, noticing that my panties have begun to dampen. No one has ever had this effect on me, not even Smith, who I had dated for six years. I have never gotten wet to the mere thoughts of someone. Mitch has always managed to draw this sort of reaction from me.
My hands inch to grab my breasts where my nipples have hardened so much they almost hurt. I begin to play with them, unable to help myself. My mind effortlessly conjures an image of Mitch, dripping wet, stepping out of our pool.
The tantalizing image of his skin exposed to my gaze tears a moan from me. My eyes remain closed as I continue to pinch and tweak my nipples, the slight pain intensifying the feelings that course through me.
“We should stop meeting like this,” a hoarse voice says.
As my eyes fly open, fantasy, dripping-wet Mitch is replaced by reality Mitch. Right in front of me. Staring at me as if I'm water in a desert.
“You really should learn to ring the doorbell,” I say, too aroused to be mad.
Mitch blinks several times as if he's struggling with something and then says, “Is it supposed to look that sensual?”
