Especially when she does that little wiggling thing, shifting in the water against my lap.
For the millionth time, I wonder why the schoolmarm even agreed to this in the first place.
Then I hear Snorty yip from his lounge chair and remember. The dog. Right.
But I forget all about Snorty when Antoine commands Maddie to scoot near me.
She leans toward me, planting the lightest possible kiss on my lips.
As she moves, her soft hand accidentally brushes my hard dick.
Christ.
A million pinpoints of pleasure go straight to my cock.
“And that’s a wrap,” Antoine announces, oblivious to the explosion that just happened under the dark water.
“You guys were incredible,” Antoine says.
“The attendants will take you to the massage room for your appointment in five minutes. I'm going to have a word with the photographers.”
As Antoine's leather shoes squeak away on the wet floor, I wonder what will happen between me and Maddie when the concert's finished.
And the need for the fake relationship is over as well.
Knowing Antoine as I do, he probably has a press release already prepared explaining our breakup.
It’s only now that I realize I’ll miss having a bit of Maddie in my life.
If only to tease her, as I'm doing now.
I make a point of getting out of the lagoon first. I take my time climbing the hidden lagoon stairs, letting the water sluice off my back and down my strong legs.
And I do it slow—putting on a show so the sexy schoolmarm can see what she’s missing.
I’m still rock hard from her touch in the water. Damn, how is it that this buttoned-up teacher can get me woody like that with just a nervous hand brush?
And that expression on Maddie’s face is priceless. Her eyes wide, cheeks flaming hotter than the steam.
I wait for Maddie to rise from the lagoon.
Maybe it’s rude for me to watch so blatantly, but I want to see what my fake fiancée looks like beneath that baggy beige swimsuit.
Now that it's soaked, it reveals the exact rosy-pink color of her nipples.
“Turn your head,” she says, all coy like she’s some bashful virgin.
“And miss the show? Never,” I reply.
Maddie’s eyes flick to the stack of towels on the chair. Too far away to reach without exposing herself. She rises, holding her hands over her chest.
But her body beneath that translucent swimsuit is on full display.
Trim waist. Pert derriere. Firm inner thighs.
Maddie averts her eyes as she lunges for the towel, wrapping it tightly around her small but curvy frame.
Damn, grown-up Mads is a revelation. All soft edges and a fire I want to stoke.
