Does she know what she’s doing to me? Does she know what it does to a man when he receives sexy photos in the middle of a conference call?
As I barrel down the highway, I find myself grinning like an idiot at things that pop into my head. Thoughts that maybe one day this incredible woman will be sending me pregnant selfies. Nude ones.
Then a wild thought occurs to me. Once I’m married to this woman, I don’t want to go to another board meeting or take another conference call for the rest of my life.
What if I gave it up? What if I sold the entire company to the highest bidder? That way I could spend every waking moment—and sleeping moment—with Hunter? She’d never have to be alone again if she didn’t want to. Whatever my princess wants, my princess is going to get.
But first I have to teach her a lesson: don’t go tempting me when she’s not ready for me yet.
Park in the garage, she texts me when I’m a block away. It’s like she can feel me getting close. Smart girl.
I pull up the long driveway which winds around to the back of the house. Sliding my Porsche into the garage, I notice the early model Jeep that has seen better days. Hands on my hips, I walk around and inspect the vehicle. If she’s home alone, this must be what she drives, and it’s not the safest. I’ll have to fix that.
I make my way down to the pool, where I find Hunter lying on her stomach on a lounge chair, soaking in the sun’s rays.
“There’s the girl who almost ruined my deal in Italy.”
She giggles. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you from your important business.”
“Like hell you didn't.”
I stride over to the lounge chair and tower over her. She lifts her head and looks at me through dark sunglasses. “Why are you so mad? You asked what I was doing.” Shrugging coyly, she returns her head to rest on her forearms, her round ass facing the sky, begging to get spanked.
My jaw tightens as I fight the urge to grab her and have a taste. But I don’t want to play it that way. Not yet. I step in front of her so I’m looking down at back of her head, her damp hair now tied up in a voluminous knot on the top of her head.
“Little girl, you have no idea what kind of fire you’re playing with,” I grind out.
She props herself up on her elbows. “Well, which is it? Am I a woman or a little girl?”
“Both,” I say, unable to keep my eyes from taking in the intensely inviting cleavage she’s creating by looking up at me that way.
“I can’t be both. I’m eighteen. I’m a woman.”
“And a naughty little girl who needs to learn how to behave.”
She sits up all the way and faces me with a challenging look.
“Behave? I thought our agreement was clear. I stay on the swim team and you provide the new equipment.”
“Sweetheart, this is just the beginning. You need to use your imagination and tell me what you really, really want.”
Incredibly, she chooses this moment to break out in song: “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends…”
“I’m not sure what’s happening,” I mutter.
She throws up her hands. “Old man, you’re the one who brought up the Spice Girls. They’re like, even older than you, I’m pretty sure.”
“Enough sass for one day,” I mutter, and grab her hand, pulling her to her feet.
She pops up willingly to face me.
“Get in the pool.”
“Ooh, are we going for a swim?”
“No. Just you. I want to watch you swim.”
“And what do I get?”