It took all my strength not to look back to see if Mister Brian “No Excuses” Gage was checking out my ass. I kind of assumed he was. To be honest, I wanted him to. I didn’t have to wear yoga pants, after all.

At least with my back to him he couldn’t see my face go hot at the thought of his gaze on me.

As it was, one of the reasons I stole the last of his breakfast was to stop myself from drooling onto the table at the sight of him in a well-loved college hoodie. It was such a departure from the suit and tie I was used to seeing him stalk around in.

Nobody would ever assume that Gage was a college student now, but I could see the remnants of his younger self in that sweatshirt. I imagined him pulling it on after a session at the gym, sleeping in it between cramming for exams, and sharing the snuggly warmth of the big pocket, his fingers mingling with mine. Oh wait—did I just insert myself in that little fantasy? Oops.

A brisk autumn breeze hit my face as I left the building in the direction that Bobbie and Aaron went, cooling my flushed cheeks and waking me up a little more. I desperately wanted to go back to bed.

I still couldn’t believe that I was brave—or insane—enough to abandon my hogtied boss in a conference room, smeared with spaghetti. It was also unbelievable that the man could still look so… so… fuckable like that. I was chalking it up to the sheer foreignness of him being messy, frustrated, and not in control.

It was a relief to lose my clothes once I got up to my—our—suite, particularly as they were stained with marinara sauce. I thought about putting on my PJs, until I remembered that I hadn’t brought any. My usual habit was to forgo them if I was going to be in a hotel room by myself. The terrycloth robe I found in the closet would have to do.

I spent a long time in the shower, baptizing myself with hot water. It beat down on the crown of my head as I faced away from the spray, sluicing down my back. The sheets of water in my hair warmed my back and shoulders, lifting the fatigue I’d been feeling and letting it run down the drain.

Then I wondered what Gage would be like in the shower, and my body tensed again.

Would he put his face in the spray or step away to let it pound his lower back? Would he wash his hair when he first got in, or stand planning his empire and then grab the shampoo as an afterthought? Did the crisp hairs I felt at his sternum go all the way down his chest, and further?

If I were there, would he follow the water’s trail over the curve of my ass and down the backs of my thighs? If he did, would he chase it with his fingers or his tongue? Would he wrap his arm around me right under the showerhead, or push me aside and press me to the cool tiled wall? Would he wedge one long hard thigh between my legs and curve his hands under my ass to haul me up, or—

Oh shit. My reverie had gotten away from me. I found myself panting, my breath coming shorter and faster like trying to whisper while running. Something in me clenched and rippled. It was time to turn down the temperature.

By the time I got out, I was profoundly turned on and shivering like a Chihuahua in the snow. Pajamas would have been really good right about then—fluffy, fleecy, flannelly pajamas. The utterly sexless, baggy, wearing-a-hug, chastity belt kind of PJs. Instead, the starchy sheets enveloping me only heightened my arousal, abrading my sensitive skin.

I burrowed my head back into the pillow, wiggling down with pointed toes until my chin touched where the flat sheet was neatly folded over the comforter. Oh yeah. I was so, so comfortable now. And so, so wet and aching, my chest almost burning from the effort to breathe properly around Gage.

My eyes were burning too, from the long day and maybe the pressure of the silk blindfold. What I needed was something to take the edge off, something to relax me and lull me into peaceful, dreamless slumber—like a spine-melting, toe-curling orgasm.

I closed my eyes, just as sightless as I was behind the blindfold Gage that had tied on me, remembering the feel of his hands in my hair, his breath on my face, his tongue memorizing my fingerprints.

Oh fuck.

At the same time that I broke down and dipped my fingertips into the dampness at my center, I heard a noise outside my bedroom door, like a door closing. I froze. How long had I been in the shower?

When Gage hummed softly, almost sighing, I realized that the intruder was not Housekeeping with turndown service. I bit back a whimper as my thumb slid over my clit. Holding myself as still as possible, I keened inwardly until I heard the muffled snick of the door to the other bedroom close.

Only then did I close my eyes and let my orgasm go, like a balloon tugging free and floating up into the sky. Five minutes later, I was fast asleep.

Now I looked up at the bright blue sky, the taste of Gage’s sausage still rich in my mouth, I contemplated the ropes course I was approaching. It was beautiful here, majestic even, the horizon studded with craggy mountains and patches of trees turning colors as it got colder.

But there was nothing majestic about trying to get across a giant spider web in an adult size Jolly Jumper. The small crowd of my officemates gathered at the base of a tall tower with giant staples in it for footholds, chattering amongst themselves. I paused about twenty feet away and wrapped my arms around myself.

This was all going to go very, very badly. I was five seconds away from pivoting on my heel and running back to the lodge before anybody saw me.

Then a warm hand landed at the small of my back, and I knew Gage had caught up to me. There would be no escape now. My arms dropped to my sides as I stared at the winding paths of taut climbing rope, suspended logs, slippery looking walls, and Bobbie showing Nikhil how to put on a harness.

I could do this. Yes, I could do this. The fact that I didn’t want to do this was totally irrelevant.

So was the fact that I was afraid of heights.

Gage’s hand slipped into mine and squeezed twice, like a beating heart. He tilted his head down toward mine. “I’m almost at the end of my rope, Madeline.”

Was that a warning? A promise? A cheesy joke? My own heart stuttered as he walked ahead of me.

“Okay, everyone!” Bobbie clapped her hands loudly. “Welcome to our High Anxiety ropes course! Before we get going, I think your illustrious leader would like to say a few words.”

Gage nodded and stepped out in front of the small group. “Thank you, Roberta.”

I coughed to hide my laugh at the mocking formality in his voice. Now that I knew she was his sister, the family resemblance was clearer. She had the same blue-black hair, the same pale blue eyes. Black Irish, maybe? Was that the term for it? She and I were about the same height, a good six inches shorter than Gage, but where she shared her brother’s angles, I had curves.

“Good morning! I hope everyone slept well?” His gaze took in everyone, but lingered on me as I joined the back of the crowd. I could see his eyes narrow on me where I hid behind Nikhil and Susan.

There were about a dozen of us, covering all the major arms and legs of Gage’s company. Some people had brought his or her assistant or second in command of the department, but as I looked around, I realized that I was easily the most junior person there in every regard. I stayed at the back of the group, peeking between people.

“Have a good dinner last night?” Gage asked, and got a few titters in response. “A few of you have sent me emails asking why we’re here this weekend. That’s a good question, since I’m sure most of you would rather be spending time with your families or friends, or at least sleeping in this morning.”

Amen.

“When we expanded last year with new biometric apps, we were very successful—thanks to our R&D, marketing, and many other members of this team. But as we needed to hire more people as part of that expansion, we lost a bit of the cohesiveness that made the company so attractive to VC in the first place.”

The urge to return to my cozy hotel bed—probably freshly made by Housekeeping—grew. I stifled a yawn with my palm.

“Now we’ve got Happit launching in the next six months, and you’ve all been working hard to get it ready,” Gage continued. “I have a lot of confidence in this app, in you. But in private conversations with some investors, it has been indicated to me that we are being seen as too bloated now, and that our recent success wasn’t due to hard work and innovation—that we got in at the right time, which made us lucky.”

Oh yikes. I wondered which impudent investor’s head was rotting on a spike somewhere back in the city. From my position behind Nikhil’s elbow, I saw Gage’s sour frown.

“Luck isn’t enough. We need to be good. We need to be better than good. The reason our last app succeeded wasn’t because of other new peripherals in the market that we tapped into—it was because we tried to envision the future as a team.”

“Now, recently that team hasn’t been as strong, nor have our ideas—even mine,” he grudgingly admitted. “And I’ll level with you—there has been talk from some investors about pulling out; they think that we’ve already peaked.”

A murmur of concern rippled through the group until Gage put up his hands. “Relax, nobody is getting fired or anything. But we can’t rely on that golden egg.”

“Or the king will kill the goose when it doesn’t shit out another,” Susan muttered under her breath to my left. Gage eyed her, but went on.

“So we’re here because I want everyone to reconnect not only to what our goals are as a developer, but also reconnect to the drive and creativity that made us a success in the first place. Because we are going to come up with new ideas and run into new obstacles—I guarantee it. As a larger company now, we need to know how to work together to form solutions. So let’s think outside the box, because there are no excuses for failure.”

Of course there weren’t. Commence eye roll. Gage didn’t seem to get that failure just happened sometimes. It wasn’t something people chose to do.

Ten minutes later we were walking like cowboys thanks to the uncomfortable harnesses around our groins, our chalk bags hanging like oversized testicles from our waistbands.

“You probably won’t even need the chalk,” said Bobbie. “But I know some people’s hands get sweaty when they’re nervous, so we’re giving you the option. It can also help protect your palms from callouses and other injuries.”

Injuries? This “High Anxiety” course was increasing my anxiety. Fucking corporate togetherness. Fearless Leader probably would have seen more enthusiasm, participation, and better results if he’d let us play hooky from our desks on a Friday afternoon to play company Twister instead.

“Aaron!” Gage called out. “It’s chalk, not face paint!”

Susan was still giggling at Aaron’s mime act, as he’d swiped the chalk over his dark face and pretended to be trapped in a box. Bobbie punched him lightly in the arm with friendly expression as she brushed some of the dust off his face with her other hand. Something she said to both Susan and Aaron made them laugh and glance over at Gage. I frowned, hoping they weren’t saying something awful about him.

He might be an overbearing, self-righteous tyrant, but he was my tyrant.

Bobbie gathered us all together. “We’re going to start out closer to the ground today.”

Oh, thank god.

She led us over to a group of trees that had marked and notched. “Our first exercise is a pretty basic one called the Swinging Log.”

I looked down at the long log suspended on its side between two trees by cables. Precarious, maybe. But not impossible. What were we supposed to do?

“You’re going to stand on it,” Bobbie explained.

Doable, I thought.

“Together. All of you.”

Uh, okay.

“At the same time, without falling off, for ten seconds.”

And… we’re done here.