He could just leave the pool. A made-up, lame excuse like not feeling well all of a sudden or remembering an early-morning meeting would have provided an escape from the situation. But he didn’t do that. He took off his shirt and tossed it to the lounger, determined to enjoy the late night swim. He didn’t let other people stop him from doing what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to start now.
“I’m developing the habit of running into you,” he said, walking to the deep end, certain that she followed him with her eyes.
He jumped in with a splash. The warm water refreshed his tired body. After another day of long hours, poring over committee reports and council minutes, he needed to get as far away from work as possible. He popped up above the water just inches from her and decided he’d come to the right place for that.
He shook the water off his hair and smoothed it back with his hands. “This is like therapy for me.”
“I’m not surprised since you used to be a competitive swimmer.”
“How’d you know that?”
“It’s in your bio,” she said.
“They put that in my bio?” he asked, surprised.
Georgia laughed. “Don’t you read your own press circulations? Maybe you should keep a closer eye on details.”
He rested his arm on the side of the pool. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He wiped the water from his eyes and smiled. “Nothing escapes my attention, nothing important, anyway.”
She was too close. Ripples on the water between them lapped against him like tender caresses connecting him to her. It didn’t help either that he couldn’t take his eyes off the way the wet hair on her shoulders spread over her breasts.
“I’m glad you didn’t get fired,” he said.
“Fired. That night we met at the press dinner you said—”
“Right,” she said, sounding defensive. “I spoke to my editor. We came to an agreement.”
“So you’re on the political press corps?” Wes asked.
“I’m glad. I was starting to think your editor was an idiot. I’ve read your articles. And I like your perspective.”
“My perspective isn’t always favorable toward you.” Her eyes burned with the same fire he’d seen in them when she’d grilled him at the press dinner.
He swam closer, his head just above the water, like a shark stalking prey. “You don’t have to like me all the time. I want reporters who are smart to write an accurate version of me. I think you have a way of cutting through political crap and giving it to readers straight up.”
She swam to the edge of the pool. “You mean your political crap?”
He followed her and was just inches away. “Do you really want to talk politics?” Or maybe he should stick to topics of politics. That way he could keep his mind on their professional relationship and not how hot she looked in that very tiny bikini top.
“I could talk politics all night,” she said, her voice low.
So could he, except that wasn’t what he wanted to do with her all night. He was close enough to see the water on her lips glistening in the moonlight. He could kiss her. He wanted to kiss her but knew he shouldn’t.
Using self-control from down deep, he backed off. “You know a lot about me. What should I know about you?”
“I’m not the one under the microscope,” she said with a smile.
How wrong she was.
She got out of the pool, taking one step at a time. It was a slow display of her beauty, and Wes was a captive audience. Her wet skin shimmered in the moonlight. She reached a lounge chair and bent over to grab her towel. He stifled a groan as her bikini stretched over her round ass.
She wrapped her towel around her. “Good night”—she paused and locked eyes with him—“Wes.”
He loved how his name escaped her mouth like a satisfied sigh.
“I’ll see you at the press conference tomorrow,” she said.
She walked away, with only her long, naked legs exposed under the bottom of her towel. In his imagination, he would jump out of the pool, pull her close, and deny her of her towel. She would press herself against him as his mouth met hers and he explored those lips like he’d wanted to since he met her. He’d reach between her legs, push aside her wet bikini, and touch her until she lost strength in her legs and went limp in his arms.
But he was running for reelection and didn’t need a scandal. She was a reporter and could do without anyone questioning her impartiality. He almost wished she had been fired so that the temptation wasn’t there with four weeks left in the campaign. Focus. He needed focus. He also needed sleep. With a key press event just hours away, he forced his mind back onto the job at hand and not the hand job he so desperately needed to relieve his desire for her.
With their eyes locked, he took another step toward her, his foot landing between hers, his leg brushing up against hers. He was closer to her than he’d ever been but not close enough.
He took the back of her neck in his hand and crushed his mouth against hers. She buried her fingers in his hair, drawing him closer. Coming up to breath, he pulled back and looked at her, seeing in her eyes the same desire he felt.
Encouraged by her need, he backed her up against the wall and pressed his erection against her. She exhaled and collapsed a little in his arms. He tugged her shirt up and touched the warm skin underneath. Roaming higher, he watched her face as his hands met with the lacy fabric between him and her breasts.
Georgia grabbed the bottom of her shirt, lifted it up, and yanked it over her head. He reached behind and unclipped her bra, letting it fall slowly to reveal the perfect swells of her breasts. He took a half step back, never taking his hands off her, and admired her beauty.
“I noticed how much you liked these during our swim the other night,” she said.
He squeezed her right breast, rubbing the rough skin of his hand against her soft nipple. “It must be your keen observation that caught that,” he said. “My work requires me to hide my reaction from people, to let my words speak, and not the emotions on my face.”
She slipped her hand over his chest and down his abdomen where his muscles tensed. She traveled lower and paused over his belt before reaching his erection and rubbing her hand along him. He shut his eyes, and his head fell back as he enjoyed the attention of her hand through his jeans.
“Not so good at hiding your reaction tonight,” she said, breathless.
He lifted her, and the jolt made her gasp. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, bringing her breasts to eye level, where they bounced enticingly. He lowered his mouth to one and sucked, pulling it into his mouth, tasting her, and enjoying the noises she emitted above him.
He’d spent long enough admiring her and not indulging in her beauty. No more. He wanted all of her. He carried her farther into the room, lifting his gaze to find a surface on the firm mattress. The sight of her lying on the bed, half naked had him struggling to slow down, to enjoy the moment, to savor every bit of her. He went to the buckle of her jeans, then to its waistband, where he hooked his fingers and pulled them down her legs in one swift move. She couldn’t look any hotter, left only in her black lace panties, her breasts heaving with her increased breathing.
She sat up and reached for him. “Overdressed,” she said simply, as if finding words were getting as difficult for her as they were for him.
She pulled off his T-shirt and threw it aside. With her hands, she started at his face, trailed down his chest and found his belt. She wasn’t as quick as he’d been, taking her time undoing him with a small smile, like she was enjoying the slow torture.
The clanking metal of his belt signaled she’d unfastened him. She pulled at his zipper, and grasping both his jeans and the elastic of what was under, she released his hard length into full view.
He kicked away what was left and pushed her down to the bed, holding himself up on one elbow and exploring her body with his free hand. He kissed her, hard and urgent.
Wes pushed her legs apart and pressed his fingers to her, letting one finger, then another, push aside the lace. She moaned beneath him as he pressed the two fingers inside her, coating himself with her juices.
“Wait,” she said, placing a kiss on his lips.
She reached over to the bedside table and grabbed her purse. In a flash she had it unzipped. She rifled through its contents. Then finding what she needed, she flopped back down to the bed and held up a condom package.
“This isn’t because I believe what the media say about…”
He kissed the rest of her sentence away. “No explanation necessary.”
He wasn’t the womanizer the media portrayed, but Georgia was right to suggest safe sex. He ripped a corner of the foil with his teeth and discarded the package on the floor.
“Let me,” she said.
She took the condom from his hand and unrolled it along the length of his erection. He moaned as she did it, enjoying the feel of her hand on him. She lowered herself back to the bed and tugged at the lace panties.
“Let me,” he said, happy to reciprocate.
He kissed her along the waistband, then lower, inch by inch, as he slid off her panties and revealed all of her. She moved under him, grabbing his ass and urging him closer. He lowered his chest to hers and pressed his hard shaft to her soft folds. Then with a thrust he pushed himself inside her. She arched her back and spread her hands above her on the pillow. She moaned softly as he slid in and out of her and the sounds of her appreciation drove him wild with lust.
Thrusting into her, he gave in to his own abandon, fully letting his body react to hers, kissing her, touching her as they moved together. He slipped his hands under her ass, lifting her just enough to plunge deeper inside.