‘But I suppose we both have our theories.’
‘Is that what brings you here? Theories and half-cocked plans?’
‘You’ve got it wrong, duchess.’ He grasps my flailing hand, the one I’m trying very hard not to thump him with, and brings it to the front of his jeans. He presses my palm firmly against his erection, arching into my hand. ‘And this isn’t what I’d call half-cocked, would you?’
‘Flynn.. .’ I swallow audibly, his name sounding as though dragged over rough ground. ‘We can’t keep doing this.’
‘Doing what?’ he asks using that innocent tone again. ‘I dunno what you’re talking about,’ he says, stepping away. ‘What’s this chair used for?’ Grasping the back of a plastic office chair, he lifts it, depositing it halfway between the desk and the other side of the room.
‘It’s either from my office or the break room,’ I answer distractedly. To be honest, I’m not sure. The same as I’m not sure what direction this is heading.
Flynn grabs his jacket, striding to the rack of robes and hanging it there. Taking my reluctant hand, he pulls me over to the desk. ‘You stay there,’ he says, leaning my butt up against the edge. Then he walks back to the chair where he takes a seat.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he begins, leaning forward to untie the thin laces of his black oxfords. ‘Something hasn’t been right with you.’
‘Why are you taking your shoes off?’ Next off come the socks. His feet are tanned and long and rather elegant, as far as feet go.
‘I tried to ask you the other morning, but you were hell-bent on going back to sleep.’
‘You wore me out!’ I snap my mouth shut.
If he tries not to smirk, it isn’t working as he stands and loosens his tie, hanging it over the back of the chair before he begins unfastening the buttons on his shirt, top to bottom. ‘You’re not much of a giver are you, duchess.’
‘What? What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Hang on, that didn’t come out right. Youarea giver—you give to better other people—you give your time and energy. You give loads of that shit to your mates and those you love. But you don’tgivea lot of stuff away about yourself. See, to me,’ he adds ponderingly, pulling his shirt free of his waistband. ‘There’s something going on, and you just won’t ask for a helping hand.’
I might argue, but my words are stolen as he strips from his shirt, exposing his sculpted torso and strong arms, but as the clink of his belt reverberates through the room, I find my words.
‘Flynn, this is ridiculous,’ I say quickly. ‘Put your clothes on. I’m not filming you today.’
‘No?’
‘Please, put your clothes on.’ I sound a little desperate, and if I can hear it, he can, too.
‘I bet you’d like to film me, though.’
‘Yes.’ I swallow quickly as he folds the sides of his pants open, sliding his hand into his boxers. ‘Yes,’Christ yes, ‘I would, but—’
He tilts his head back, giving himself a concealed tug. ‘What would you call my movie?’
I swallow, my heart pounding both between my ears and between my legs as I watch him touch himself, tease himself—tease me. He’s groaning quietly, all languid, inviting eyes. I watch, mesmerised as his chest rises slowly, then falls, following the cording of muscles in his strong forearm as his muscles pump and flex.
‘In Like Flynn,’ I muse aloud.
His eyes meet mine—dark and widely dilated—but with a challenge burning there. ‘I’ll make you a deal. You get your camera, and I’ll give you a show like you’ve never seen.’ Lord Almighty, I think I just had a mini orgasm. I make to stand because who the hell would say no to that? Flynn Phillips touching himself—getting himself off? And all for me.
‘I have conditions,’ his low voice rumbles, his hand still inside his pants. ‘You have to join in.’ I’m already shaking my head—no way, no deal—when he speaks again. ‘Off camera. But you have to give me some incentive. Be my muse.’
‘Qualifyjoin in,’ I repeat slowly, my eyes not sure whether to watch his hand or his face.
‘Just touch yourself. Let me watch. How about we have a little wager? The last one to come gets to decide what to do with the film.’
‘You don’t mean—’
‘You can put it on the website.Ifyou win.’
I wouldn’t—couldn’t. But I’m not telling him.
