Page 12 of The Playboy
I can take a few minutes to relieve the pressure.I snake my hand between my legs and rub myself over my bathing suit bottoms. Tait’s face and perfect body are at the forefront of my mind, and my fingers move faster the more I think of him. I’m coming undone in a matter of minutes, his name falling from my lips.
Sated, I take a fast shower, washing the sunscreen off my body, and change into my mint and navy, chevron-striped maxi dress. I pull my dark locks into a ballerina bun and touch up my makeup. I’m adding a touch of gloss to my lips when there’s a knock on the door. The clock on the nightstand reads six-twenty.
He’s early.
When I open the door, my mouth drops at the sight of him. He is wearing dark-washed skinny jeans, a fitted royal blue button-down, and a pair of dark brown boots.Sex on legs. The ache between my legs is back, and I have to force myself to close my mouth. I clear my throat and speak, my tone soft. “You’re early.”
“I am. Are you ready?” I notice he gives me a once over, and as his eyes meet mine, he smiles. “You wore a dress.”
“I did, you asked me to. I don’t know where we’re going, and I didn’t bring any fancy ones with me.” I move away from the door, and he catches it before it can close. I have to turn away from him; I can feel my face flush under his gaze. “Let me get my purse and I’m good to go. Where are we going anyway?”
He walks into the room, and the quietly clicks closed. “There’s a nice Bistro I know of. I thought we could enjoy the summer air and get to know one another.”
I glance back at him, and his eyes are glued to my backside. I’d be lying if I said the idea that he’s checking me out makes me angry or uncomfortable. It’s the opposite. I’m elated.He’s your boss. Get it together, Sam!I bend over, fixing the strap on my wedge sandal, and I hear a sharp intake of breath.
I smile. “It’s rude to stare, Mr. Flanigan,” I tell him in a singsong voice as I right myself again.
“Tait,” he corrects. “Mr. Flanigan is my father.”
“All right then, Mr. Flanigan. I’m ready.” I gather my purse and move toward the door. He blocks my exit.
His fingers graze my shoulder and drag down my arm, stopping at my elbow. “Tait. Please. I don’t want things to be so formal between us.”
I lower my eyes. “Tait,” I repeat his name in a soft tone.
He opens the door, and we walk into the hallway toward the elevators.
“I want to apologize for the elevator earlier. What I said was out of line. Can I ask you a question though, and you will answer honestly? I appreciate when myfriendsare honest with me.” He stresses the word friend, and my body zings.
“Sure.” I try not to fidget as I stand still under his attentive gaze.
“In the elevator earlier, did you want to?”
I know exactly what he wants to know, but I can’t get my voice to form the words. My face feels hot, and I reach my trembling hand to my cheek to try and cool it down. I don’t want him to know how much he is turning me on, so I just stare at him.
“Sam, please answer me. Use your words.”
It’s a simple request for an answer, but I understand the true meaning behind it. My voice is low, barely above a whisper. “It’s not really a fair question or request, is it?”
“Why not? I’m asking a harmless question,” he replies, genuine curiosity lacing his words.
I drop my eyes to the ground and shuffle my feet. “No, it’s not. You are asking me much more than if I wanted to do something earlier. You want to know if I’ve done that before, or if I can see myself doing it with you.”
“Okay, that’s fair. Yes, I’m asking more than it seems. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, and I want to find out more aboutyou.” He places his hand under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “So, I’ll ask again. Did you want to?”
It’s now or never. Honesty is key, right? “Yes,” I reply breathily.
“Would you?”
I shake my head. “No. You’re my boss, and I don’t want anything to come between us like that. You need to know that my job comes first and foremost. I’m here as a favor to my friend.”
The elevator arrives, and our awkward conversation dies when the doors open.Thank God for small miracles.When we step in, he stands on the other side. I’m grateful for the distance, and I feel like I can breathe again. I want to know what he’s thinking, but with the way he’s looking at me, it’s probably for the best if I don’t know.
The ride to the Bistro is almost silent as well. I ask a few basic questions—favorite food, favorite color, favorite season—burgers, blue, autumn—but I can tell we each only have one thing on our minds.
The thought of having someone like Tait as a lover sends a jolt of electricity through me. I want to know what he would be like. What he would demand of me. Would he be gentle, or would he just take want he wants? I cross my legs to stop the throb from getting worse. My mind is racing with these fantasies—each one naughtier than the last—as the car pulls up to the restaurant.
He clears his throat, and my eyes focus on him. He’s already standing outside the car, holding his hand out and waiting for me to grasp it. When I do, he wraps his fingers around mine. The heat that passes from his hand to mine is scorching. I pull my hand back, but I ache at the loss of his touch when I do.