Page 55 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

She gives me a knowing smile. “C’mon. I’m in your corner. Don’t forget you still have people rooting for you, babe.”

I lift my cup to her in a sarcastic toast. “Go team.” Then, “Just promise me you’ll get some help in here soon? Otherwise I may be forced to hire someone myself and send them over. Don’t put it past me. You know I will.”

She grins. “Oh, I never had a doubt. So about this guy you’re somehow still not sleeping with…”

14.

When I retreat to the solace of my building, all I can think is how much I need to cool off, and thankfully I’ve got the pool to myself. Nobody is ever up here this late. I prop my forearms on the edge and let the water cool my skin. I still feel hot, though, with that pent up energy that seems to vibrate just beneath the surface.

The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about him. Part of me wishes I would have told him to fuck off the very moment he passed me that drink. Maybe if I had, I could’ve established him as an enemy proper. There would have been no confusion. No hand holding, no near-miss kiss, and definitely no full body contact. The only time I’ve gotten it right was when I pushed him into the pool, though there are still some other, very specific parts that would probably prefer that I push him straight into my bed. But the most unnerving thing about all of it was that feeling – however brief – of floating.

It’s not unlike the feeling of being in this pool. Comfortable. Effortless. As if every molecule of my being is perfectly buoyant.

I let my forehead fall against my arms. Maybe those trolls on the internet are right. Maybe I do need to get laid. It’s not like I couldn’t get laid, if I wanted to. It’s just that sex is such a give and take, and I’m not willing to let Quentin take anything from me. Not my heart. Not my job. Especially not my reputation.

I bet Quentin isn’t worried about jeopardizing his reputation.

The more I think about it, the more agitated I feel. I swish my legs through the water, reveling in the simple easy feel of the current. My movements catch the flow from one of the pool jets. The steady stream of water massages my thighs. I run my hand in front of it, letting the soft pressure caress my fingers. It’s got such a sensual feel to it, being here alone like this. The soft blue glow of the pool light. The inky sky stretched out above me. The sounds of the city surrounding me – the traffic and music and pedal pubs – though I can’t see them, and they can’t see me. I am suspended in my own private spa-like bubble.

And I sigh. Because, somehow, I’m still thinking about Quentin.

I realize he has edged into my thoughts again, the same way I realize that I’ve shifted until the gentle pressure of the water is now sometimes massaging a very particular spot. My eyes slide closed, and for a moment I can see him.

Can feel the tickle of his words across the back of my neck as he teased me in that canoe.

Can picture the flicker of his eyes as he leaned in close in the dark of his office, sweeping his fingers along my jaw.

Can imagine exactly what he would look like with his strong arms wrapped around me, with his hand over my hand, guiding it over my breasts, along my belly and down, and down… where the steady stream of water is currently meeting my need.

I let out a frustrated little laugh as heat laps up my neck. I push away from the edge, glancing around the empty pool deck as I tread water. Even here, alone in the dark, I can tell I’m blushing. Because what the hell am I doing?

Reasonably, the pool is “closed”. Nobody would think to come up here at this hour, though I’ve lived here long enough to know that they only enforce hours of operation when there are noise complaints. So as long as I don’t make any noise…

I drift back over, finding the edge of the pool with my forearms. I let the current innocently dance between the slow cycling of my legs beneath me. My movements create gentle ripples along the surface. The quiet wake caresses my shoulders, teasing at that invisible line that separates the parts of me that exist above the surface and the parts that are hidden below.

I close my eyes again, unable to turn off the way I’m suddenly sensitive to the feel of everything around me. The night air kissing my neck. The triangle top of my bikini cupping my breasts. The very strategically placed pool jet, teasing between my thighs.

Nobody will see me, I remind myself. I’m just enjoying a late night swim. Like, really enjoying it. And it won’t take long, anyway. The throbbing heat that has pooled in my center is making that painfully clear. I release a frustrated sigh.

Oh, fuck it.

I reposition myself in a way that feels effortlessly good. Just like that, I feel my inhibitions slip, and with them goes my ability to hold back the flood of thoughts about Quentin. Not the ones where I want to professionally vanquish him. No, these are much darker and more delicious.

The ones where we lock my office door, and he wraps his arms around me from behind, kissing my neck as he undoes the buttons of my shirt.

The ones where he bends me over the desk and rubs his hard length up and down my slick center.

The ones that make me wonder what kind of dirty talk comes out of that beautiful mouth of his.

My body moves instinctively as all these thoughts turn hot and liquid. My fingers grip the edge of the pool as my hips shift in slow circles. I wonder as I stifle another sigh of pleasure if I’d let him fuck me in a pool. I can imagine the up close feel of him as he nibbles at my ear, can almost breathe in the intoxicating late-night smell of him, can hear his voice against the side of my neck.

“Come on, baby. Admit it. You’re a horny girl who would beg me to fuck you in this pool.”

Oh my god, yes, that shameless, aching part of me says. A hundred times, yes.

Fantasy Quentin unties my top and tugs off my bottoms. He drags his hands over the swell of my breasts, teasing my nipples into hard, sensitive peaks that he rolls between his thumb and forefinger, just to drive me crazy. And it does. In this impossible fantasy, I’m delirious with pleasure as he hooks one of his strong arms around me and knees my legs apart. He angles me just right against the jet, until I’m coursing with need and biting my lip to fight back a moan.

God, I’m so close.

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