“Be good,” she warns me, “or I’ll leave.”
I watch her, standing on that step in her bare feet and skirt, looking at me, assessing me. “Don’t, leave” I tell her. “I’d be too sad if you left.”
This gets a reluctant smile from her, bringing me a ridiculous amount of joy.
“Okay,” she finally says, just like I knew she would. “But don’t look.”
“At what?” I laugh. “Your swimsuit?”
She’s got her arms crossed over her chest, her chin thrust forward. She’s being defiant.
“Fine,” she finally says. “But don’t stare.”
She steps out of the pool and walks to one of the lounge chairs. She takes something out of her little purse and puts it around her wrist. She turns her back to me as she unzips her skirt. She looks over her shoulder, and I lay back again, floating on my back. But I can still see her.
She shimmies her hips a bit as pulls her skirt down, revealing lacey underwear and a very fine, round ass.
“You’re not looking are you?”
“Of course not,” I say, keeping my eyes on her. She slips off her top, and when she turns she’s got her arms crossed over her ample breasts and she hurries on tip-toes into the water. I stand back up as she walks down the steps like a sea nymph. As she gets to the bottom, her face is alight.
“See?” I say.
She gathers her long chestnut hair, tilting her head back to catch it all and really showing off her tits in the process. I can’t help but look. She twists her hair into some sort of messy bun thing then dips down to her shoulders, covering most of her body with water.
“It feels amazing,” she says.
I already want to grab her and pull her into me, feel all of that body pressed up against mine. But I refrain. There is business to attend to here, and before we go too much further I should really get her to sign those contracts.
However badly I might want to fuck her, bury my face in those full tits, ram all of my cock into what must be a tight little pussy…the real point of this thing is to make it all official.
The fact that I want to screw her is just icing on the cake.
“Your place is beautiful,” she says, looking back at the house.
“Our place,” I correct. “Remember, what’s mine is yours.” Up to the specifications of the contract, anyway.
She watches me carefully, moving around in the water. “Right,” she says, her brow furrowing. “But we simply must do something about the upholstery. All those dark colors—how depressing.”
“You know, you’re absolutely correct,” I say, smiling. This girl is funny, and I’m already thinking about how perfect she’ll be as my wife.
I’ll need to send Damien a bonus.
I wanted nice, small-town, wholesome—not L.A. trash. And he managed to get me exactly what I would have wanted if I could have designed this girl myself.
And then I think, Why would anyone date when you can have the perfect person sent right to you, no fuss?
Dating in L.A. is fun up to a point. When you have money—and I have more than God—you attract a certain kind of woman. And when you’re twenty-five and living like I do, it’s all right there at your fingertips. But now with this mess with the future of the company at stake and my brothers fighting to take control, it’s time I made my biggest move yet.
And here she is, swirling in my pool, gorgeous and ready to do this crazy thing. “What else?” I ask her. “Tell me what else you want.”
“A new car,” she says, laughing. “Mine might not make it out of here.”
“Consider it done.”
She rolls her eyes. “And some new clothes. Something…elegant. Aspirational.”
I shrug. “Okay, I’m not sure what that looks like but I’m sure that can be arranged. Anything else?”
She cocks her head, thinking. “That’s all for now.”
“If you think of anything else, just ask Sheldon.”
“The old guy?”
“Yes,” I say. “He’s been with me since I moved out here. He’s the best, and extremely trustworthy.” That’s probably his most important quality. Also the fact that he gets me what I need before I even know I need it.
Addison drifts further into the deep end, her feet now just off the floor of the pool. I swim toward her, wanting to be close. The water cascading over her tits is perfection.
“Yeah,” she says thoughtfully. “I could get used to this. So when do I move in?”
“As soon as it’s all done,” I say, glad she’s so eager. “The church is booked, and I thought we’d honeymoon on Swanwick Island. That’s the island I own in the Caribbean.”
“Of course you own an island,” she says. “It would be embarrassing if you didn’t. But I was thinking maybe a castle in England. The royals could join us—even Prince Harry.”
“That could be arranged,” I say. “But it’d be much more fun to stay on a secluded island, don’t you think?”
She cocks her head thoughtfully. “Do I have to wear shoes?”
“You don’t have to wear clothes,” I say, the image flashing in my head. Our bodies are slowly moving around the pool. She’s just out of arm’s length, and it feels like miles.
“Very funny,” she says. “You know, I’ve lived in L.A. for nine months and I still haven’t been to the beach.”
“You’re kidding.” I stare at her. This girl really is like something out of a movie. Small-town girl moves to the big city and then…well, then she wins the lottery and meets me.
Addison splashes as she waves her hands. “I tried to go to the beach once but couldn’t find parking.”
“That’s why I own a house on the beach,” I say.
“The private island?”
“No, here in L.A.,” I say.
“You own two houses in one city?” she asks. “Why?”
“Because I can,” I say, watching her more closely.
Now that she’s in the pool all I want to do is see her out of it, dripping wet in her lacey underwear.
“Oh,” she says.
I find that I like it when she’s at a loss for words.
“So the church is booked,” I say, ticking off items, “and the honeymoon is set.”
“Private island all the way,” she says, moving a little closer to me, closer than arm’s length.
“The only thing left,” I say, reaching out for her hand and pulling her into me, her breasts just touching my chest, “is to consummate the marriage.”
Addison’s playful expression drops. She darts away from me, the little sea creature. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she says from a safe distance.
“We should open the champagne to celebrate don’t you think?” I offer.
She looks over her shoulder at me, curiously. I swim to the edge where a house phone has been placed. I pick it up, and it rings to the staff. “Sheldon. Have the lawyer bring out the paperwork.”
“Lawyer?” she says. “Am I already being sued for something? Is it because I called your décor depressing?”