Payton #2
“No cup holders. You’re responsible for your own drink, Muffin. If your hands are busy with those papers, your pretty thighs will have to hold it instead.” I dry the condensation on my hand along the inside of her thigh, making her squeal in protest.
“Use your own shorts to dry your hands.” She swats my arm with the sheaf of papers as she tries to hide her smile, which just makes me laugh.
“Your leg was so convenient, though.”
I turn back to the barista and take my drink, catching her slipping a phone away, knowing she likely snapped a photo of us.
That happens a lot. People think I’m some kind of celebrity because of my business and status, so they feel entitled to take photos of me or my family whenever we’re out.
Normally, it’d bug me, but this is convenient, given I want photos of us together to make it online.
I tip the barista generously before we get back on the road.
“How’d you like it if I wiped my cold, wet hand on your bare thigh?” Ainsley asks.
“I’d ask you to keep going because I like temperature play and your hands look soft.” I give her a coy smile. She smacks me again and I laugh harder.
“You’re incorrigible,” she huffs, but there’s another hint of a smile turning up the corners of her mouth that she’s trying desperately to tamp down.
“Oh, I see that smile you’re trying to hide. You like it.”
“Shut up. I have important documents to decipher and you’re distracting me.”
I slide my iced coffee between my thighs and move my right hand off the steering wheel over to her bare knee, where I stroke her soft skin and feel goosebumps rise under my touch immediately. “If you want a distraction, I’m good at providing those.”
“Payton, focus on the road and quit touching me while I’m trying to read.
There’s no one to perform for.” Ainsley’s voice isn’t as certain this time, and when I glance her way, her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth and she’s staring at my hand on her leg.
It looks good, like it belongs there, my fingers lazily making circles over her tan skin as I explore her thigh.
“Practice makes perfect, Muffin. I want us to be comfortable when the time comes to put on the proper show. Shouldn’t we know what it feels like and how we’d react in the moment?
I’m a hands-on guy. I’ll be touching you any chance I get in public.
You won’t be able to freeze or look uncomfortable with it and you’ll have to sell the idea that you enjoy it. So do you?”
“Do I what?” she asks, her voice unmistakably breathy while my fingers roam unchecked up her thigh, still drawing light circles over her skin.
“Enjoy having my hands on you?” I’ve reached the frayed edge of her shorts and brush along the strands, wishing I could watch her face instead of the road.
I let my fingers graze below the edge and slowly slide toward her inner thigh.
I feel her tremble before she finally grabs my wrist and moves my hand away.
“You need to drive and I need to read.” She evades my question, yet manages to answer it at the same time. She liked it more than she wanted to admit. That’s good enough for me.
Satisfied, I keep my hands to myself and stay quiet to let her read through the entire contract while I drive the familiar route to my lakehouse on Lake Lanier.
It’s about fifty miles northeast of Atlanta and one of the largest lakes in Georgia.
It’s quicker for me to get there than to the coast by car, and easier than getting the jet ready to fly somewhere farther away.
“I’ll sign it, but I want to add my own stipulations.”
I look over at Ainsley about fifteen minutes later.
She's gorgeous with the sunglasses perched on her face under the pink hat I hoped she’d wear again.
I was betting on that when I picked the shades out.
The light pink and gold look nice against her tan and the champagne and honey strands of her hair that blow around her face in the breeze.
“I told you nothing weird was tucked in there. It’s all very standard, except the whole we’re dating for three months thing. So what kind of stipulations do you have in mind?”
“This whole situation inordinately benefits you, even if it’s repayment of a favor, which I still think is bullshit.” She glowers at me.
“You brought this on yourself by insisting on owing me the favor in the first place.” I chuckle at her annoyance at my reminder.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush before continuing.
“I want you to give me a story. I need to get away from the Gazette, and the only way I’m going to do that is with higher-value topics than what our paper covers so I can prove my worth as a journalist. Let me write a profile on you and shop it around.
Your name alone carries value to any heavy hitter in the business world, and a human-interest story would appeal to papers that cover soft news. ”
Ah, there it is. I knew she wanted to learn about Olympus and get her piece of the pie somehow, but this is more than fair.
And, frankly, I approve of her wanting to use the story to leave the fucking second-rate paper she’s at, so her reasons work for me, even if I’m not sure what she wants to write about exactly.
“There’ll be limits on what you can write about.
I’m a private person and don’t like the idea of letting the world into every aspect of my life.
Additionally, there are a lot of sensitive deals that can’t be discussed when it comes to Olympus, so I can't be an entirely open book on that, either. I’ll need to read a draft of the story before it goes to print to ensure my company and family are shown in the best light.
I’ll even connect you with contacts of mine at the Wall Street Journal, Forbes, and a few others when it’s done.
If that’s amenable to you, we can include it in the contract. ”
“Deal,” she says quickly. When I glance over, her face is cautiously optimistic, and I like seeing the hesitant smile turning up those pretty lips. Finally, an emotion other than reserved animosity. Fuck yes, it’s worth agreeing to a story just to see that smile alone.
“Add the details to the last page before you sign.” I pull a pen out of the pocket of my blue checked button-down and hand it to her without looking over.
She takes it from me, her fingers brushing over mine delicately, and I wonder if she meant to.
Maybe she’s trying out the whole touching thing, too.
While she’s become easier to read the more I get to know her, she still manages to surprise me. Now we’ll see if I can surprise her.