I Like Being Watched

"I, ah, yeah."

"What's her name?" she asked.

At that, Blake shot her a boyish smile. "I don't know yet," he admitted.

"Typical," Wynn said, shaking her head as she got to her feet. "Well, be sure to tell her that the event is formal. If she doesn't know what that means, you can give me her number, and I can send her some examples," she told him. It was such a slick way of putting him in his place that I wasn't even sure he caught on.

"Okay. Sure. Sounds good. Where are your shoes?" he asked, making me stiffen.

"Oh. The must have gone flying when I tripped."

"I thought you hit your foot."

"Well, both. I tripped over my own feet, and lost my shoe, then slammed my foot into the desk as I tried to right myself. I don't know where the other shoe got to," she added, starting to look around, which made Blake do the same as I quickly kicked them away from my side of the desk.

"Over there," I said, drawing their attention behind Blake.

"Don't strain yourself to get up and get it," Blake mumbled, retrieving the shoe as Wynn did her best to hold in a smile.

"Thank you, Blake," she said, slipping her feet back into her shoes. "I should get going," she said.

"Yeah, me too," Blake agreed, nodding, making his way to the doorway. "Goodnight, Wynn."

"'Night, Blake," she called before turning back to me as she leaned in the doorway to the foyer.

Taking a deep breath, I got to my feet, moving across the study, and slowing as I passed her.

"We're done. That's it. Never again."

"Mmhmm," she said, a soft smile playing at her lips.

"I mean it," I added more firmly.

"Of course you do," she agreed, talking to my back as I walked into the foyer, then toward the stairs because, quite frankly, I didn't trust myself not to turn right around, grab her, and give us what we both knew we wanted.

"Wynn..."

"Goodnight, Mr. Buchanan," she called in a sing-song voice, one that said she knew damn well she had the upper hand, and wasn't above using it again when the mood suited. "Have pleasant... dreams," she added as she made her way toward the front door. "I will see you for the party," she finished, shooting me a smile when I turned to watch her back out of the door.

I'm not proud to admit that I watched through the window from my position on the steps as she made her way down the front path and slid into her car. I watched, too, as she bounced around in the front seat of her beat-up car, trying to keep herself from freezing as the heat warmed up.

I should get her a car.

What?

What the fuck was that?

I didn't buy random women cars just because their cars were old and unreliable.

But I could buy her a car if her old and unreliable car meant she might not be able to perform her job.

Jesus Christ.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Back in her car, the heat must have gotten warm enough for Wynn to crank up the air, judging by the way her hair was dancing around her shoulders as she strapped in, then pulled out of the driveway.

Fuck.

I needed to get it together.

At least the next time I saw her, it would be in a house full of guests that would prevent anything from happening between us.

Or so, you know, I thought...

Twelve

Wynn

"I think this one would be amazing," Perry declared, pulling one of the dresses off the back of the door where I had them hung.

I'd splurged.

I mean, I probably wasn't going to keep all of them. But when I went into the store, I couldn't pick between the five dresses I'd tried on. But Perry hadn't been available to consult. So, naturally, I bought them and waited for her to get a few spare moments to come over and look them over.

"You don't think it's a little... risqué?" I asked, looking at the simple black dress with a fairly modest hemline, but the kind of bodice that could show a lot more than intended.

"When have you ever shied away from something just because it was risqué?" she asked. "Remember that figure drawing class you took. All those penises," she said, giving me a bemused smile.

"It was difficult to get them right on the page since, you know... guys," I said, laughing a bit at the memory of all those dicks getting hard and soft again. Over and over and over. They must have all had blue balls by the time they left the room.

I would never tell Perry this, but that class had given me the experience to be able to do my own private little drawing of a certain cock that belonged to a rich, stupidly handsome, scorchingly sexy boss of mine.