‘Is that because you think I’m someone’s glorified secretary?’ His gaze hardens a touch, causing my expression to falter. I hadn’t meant it like that at all.
‘I don’t weigh someone’s worth by their job description or their title.’ What kind of despicable arse would do that? ‘I simply meant you look like a boss this secretary wouldn’t mind being bent under.’Jesús, María y José!Talk about inappropriateness and oversharing.
He laughs, a perfect burst of honesty—delight at the escape of mine. Maybe my reddening cheeks stop him from taking advantage of the fact, but I suddenly don’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that he doesn’t latch onto my statement.
‘Do you always dress like that for work?’ he asks instead.
I look down at my outfit; black pencil skirt and white blouse. ‘Jeans normally,’ I answer, ‘but I had an appointment at the bank. Why do you ask?’
‘I’d have thought it was obvious. You look like a wet fucking dream.’
‘This is perfectly acceptable office attire,’ I reply testily.
‘Dunno what kind of office you’ve been workin’ in. You look hot, like some sexy librarian, your blouse hinting at the lace of your bra and your skirt hugging those curves. And those shoes... ’
He glances down at my black heels, and I concede he might have a point here. I don’t own a lot of heels, and those that I do own were bought for nights out, not to complement day outfits. Still, they’re just shoes.
‘All buttoned up and wholesome on the surface with just a hint of the girl down for dirty fucking.’
‘Flynn... ’ His name sounds like plea, though for more or for a halt, I’m not sure either of us can tell.
‘Seriously. I can’t imagine your actors lasting long being filmed by you in the first place, but dressed like that? No fucking chance. And I don’t remember seeingThe Two Thrust Chumpbeing in the title menu.’
‘My actors are professionals. They’re not looking at me like you would.’
‘Trust me. They’re men, and they have eyes. They’re lookin’. Want to know what else I’ve noticed?’
‘Please, give me the benefit of your vast knowledge.’ Sarcasm travels across the space.
‘Your actors, their dirty talk is weak.’
‘What?’ If I wasn’t so shocked, I might laugh. ‘I know you’ve been watching, but—’
‘Come on, duchess. The best kind of porn has a little nastiness in it.’ His eyes flick down to my lips and back again. ‘Your actors have got the beauty of sex down, but their dialogue needs work.’
‘Thank you, Flynn Phillips. Thank you for that insight,’ I reply with an unpleasant sounding chuckle. ‘However, thousands of subscriptions say otherwise.’
‘You like it. Admit it.’
This time, I don’t laugh. Not as he slides the jacket from his shoulders, dropping it to the adjacent desk. Not as his long legs eat up the space between us. And not as he takes me in his hands, not his arms. This isn’t an embrace.
‘I want to try something.’ His gaze is wide and innocent, but the man doesn’t have an innocent cell in his body as far as I can tell. ‘You game?’ And apparently, it’s not a question that really needs an answer as he crushes me to his chest. He just... holds me there, flush against his body, my heart hammering against his.
‘Is it working yet?’ His deep words rumble through me, and the idea of just letting go—of hugging him back just as tight—is so very tempting.
‘Is what working?’ I ask a little breathlessly, hating how I sound, hating even more that I find I have breath to squeak when his hand slides down my back to rub both cheeks of my bottom.
‘I was wondering if your undies would fall off.’ His chest expands against mine as he lets out a theatrical sigh. ‘But they’re still there.’
‘With a hug? Not even you are that good.’
‘No, but I am pretty good,’ he answers with a gleam as he pulls back. ‘And maybe a little more in tune than your best mate, Paisley.’
‘What has Paisley got to do with this?’
‘She reckoned you are in the need of the kind of hug that turns into dirty sex.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ I grate out, pulling free from his strong arms. ‘She wouldn’t say those sorts of things. Not to you.’ I find the thought of any possible conversation between the pair distressing, the idea tightening my chest.
