Ainsley #2
I pull my hat and sunglasses off and place them on the dock at my feet where I’ve kicked off my flip-flops.
I unbutton my shirt and let it fall to the dock, then angrily work my shorts down over my hips to step out of them.
I straighten up and catch Payton looking me over appreciatively.
He smiles when he notices my own gaze rake over his incredible body.
His dark blue swim trunks ride low on his hips, showcasing his decadently muscled upper body and the V that points to his muscled lower half, proving it’s just as cut.
“Like what you see in person more than through a FaceTime call?” he asks, not at all shy about the attention I’m giving him. He removes the backward baseball hat finally, releasing me from that magical spell. What is it with men and backward hats? It's fucking kryptonite.
“Shut up.” I cross my arms over my small chest, self-conscious of my body under his hot blue stare that feels like fiery hands are caressing me.
“Don’t hide. You’re beautiful, and you look incredible in that white bikini. If you ever want to revisit that friends-with-benefits situation, let me know. But for now, we need to get you even more soaked than you already are.”
“What?” I muddle my way through his layered comments that swept through several topics and sent my head spinning.
Before I can get a straight answer out of him, he tosses me over his shoulder and jumps off the dock into the lake.
The water is warm but the moment is a surprise and I gasp in a mouthful of water before I kick to get away from him.
I break the surface, sputtering and coughing.
He comes up beside me, breathing normally. The man must be part fish.
“You’re insane!” I accuse, splashing water. He’s too close to me. I can’t relax.
“You’re not thinking about what I said and how it made you feel, though, right? I told you I know what you need. Trust me to take care of you. I can be a very good boyfriend.”
“You’re not my boyfriend and I definitely don’t trust you.” I swim away from him. He stays close with ease, not letting me put distance between us. I kick my legs wildly, not nearly as at ease in the water as he seems to be.
“You got into my car willingly enough to come to my lakehouse an hour away from Atlanta. I think that means you trust me a little bit. You signed the NDA and contract, so we’re in a relationship for the next three months. For all intents and purposes, I’m your boyfriend.”
“I don't think you’re a serial killer, but I can’t say you’re not bad in other ways.
And now I’ve signed your stupid NDA, so I can’t say shit to anyone, even if you are.
” My legs falter their movements at that horrifying thought and my chin dips below the waterline.
I suck in a mouthful of water, then sputter it out on a cough.
Payton is there in an instant, pulling me into his arms, turning my back to his front, and wrapping a giant arm around my stomach so I no longer have to swim while he does it for the both of us with ease.
I only fight a little against his insistent grip because I was getting tired.
Swimming for sport isn’t really my thing.
I’m more of a tanning on the side of the pool and hopping in to cool off kind of swimmer.
“I’m not going to kill you, or do anything without you specifically asking me to,” he says next to my ear.
I’m carefully keeping our lower halves apart, letting my legs float out in front of me while he treads water below us, the movement rhythmic and all too easy for him. He did say he swims laps daily, so maybe this is easy.
“Let me go. I’m not going to drown,” I snap instead of addressing his comments. I push at his heavy arm around my waist and feel him tighten it more, his chest pressing into my back.
“I don't trust your stamina. It looked like you were getting tired. I can do this for days. You’re so little it’s nothing.”
I scoff. “I know how to swim. I’m a grown woman.”
“You sure are,” he growls against my wet hair and I shake my head at him for being impossible.
“Don’t you dare do anything…” I begin, not sure what I’m threatening.
“Anything what, exactly?” he challenges. “Anything that makes you feel something more than you want to?”
“No,” I snap, pushing at his arm again with more force, but it just causes my legs to drop, our bodies aligning, and I feel him.
His body is hard everywhere—chest against my shoulders, abs against my back, and finally, my ass presses directly into what I was trying to avoid, and oh my God, of course he’s hard there, too. And big.
I stop fighting and go rigid, which forces me tight to him.
I want the water to swallow me now that I know what he feels like against me.
I wish I never let him talk to me in the first place, never let the intrigue of knowing him lure me in at all.
I bite my lip to keep the pitiful sound of failure from falling from my throat, sounding an awful lot like a moan.
Because I want to feel even more of him now.
“Your heart is beating so fast. Are you excited or scared?” His words are soft against my ear, while his arm is tight where he still holds me against him.
“I’m angry.” We both know I’m lying by the breathiness of the words.
He easily turns me in his arms so we’re facing each other, and I’m blessedly released from his body. He lets me swim on my own again.
“Why do you want to hate me so much?” It’s a rare serious moment where he’s not smiling or poking fun at me. He seems to truly want to know.
I look away from the openness that wants to slip under my defenses again, to get in and see me. It makes me want to lash out, and my sharp tongue fights the battle for me where my body fails.
“I hate men like you on principle. You’re a bored, rich man who’s decided I’m some sort of game because it’s fun to conquer everything that presents a challenge to you. I’m not a game and I don’t want to be conquered.”
The words spill out with certainty and venom. It hides the very real sting of having lived through it before and gained the experience. I hope. It might sound bitter and jaded, which is also fine. As long as it doesn’t sound needy.
“I don’t think of you as a game and I’m not trying to conquer you, Ainsley. I just want to be your boyfriend,” he says, sincerity in his eyes when I meet them.
“Fake boyfriend. And if only I believed that. Every conversation with you leaves me with whiplash and debating if I should be running for the hills. You don’t take no for an answer.
You slip sex into every word you say. You touch me like you have a right to.
You look at me like you want to fuck me.
You act on some misguided instinct that I need you to save me.
You have to stop this! You, Payton Olsen, have a God complex, and I’m not having it. ”
His lips turn up at the corners as he listens to me.
“And you, Ainsley Montgomery, are lying to yourself. You deny yourself the truth of what you need because you’re afraid to want it.
You wear hostility and anger because you feel vulnerable with softer emotions that leave you exposed.
You don't want to admit you need connection because somewhere along the line, you were hurt, and that fucker never paid for his mistakes. You don't even want to be playful or explore a friendship with me because it puts you too close to wanting something you refuse yourself. But sure, I’ll respect your boundaries if you really want them.”
And just like that, Payton Olsen has stripped me bare and knows half my secrets already.