Hating You, Loving You (Inked Hearts 4)

Chloe: Alone?

Dean: Is this a booty call?

My fingers move of their own accord.

Chloe: What if it was?

Dean: I'd ask what color panties you're wearing.

Chloe: You can probably guess.

Dean: Black?

Chloe: Yeah. I only own black panties.

I wipe my hands on my jeans. Stand. Move to my underwear drawer. Pull it open.

It's a dozen pairs of the same thing—the black bikinis with cream trim. The ones I bought on sale at American Eagle.

And the lacy thongs I bought at Victoria's Secret.

I grab my phone. Snap a picture of the drawer.

I must be going out of my mind. I shouldn't send this to Dean. It's a yes. A please continue your flirting. A please come over and fuck me senseless.

But that is what I want.

He makes me feel good.

And, God, I need that. I need my body aching for his. I need him touching me.

There.

I hit send.

My blush spreads to my chest. Heat goes with it. Down my torso. Straight to my core.

Dean: Fuck, Chloe. You trying to make me hard?

Maybe I am. I don't know. I have no idea how to do this flirting thing. If I can even do this flirting thing.

I'm opening Pandora's box here.

But I have to do it.

Chloe: Are you?

Dean: Yeah.

My tongue slides over my lips. We can't do this. He's my boss. I need the job.

But I need this too.

Chloe: Can we talk like this?

Dean: Can we? Yeah. But we shouldn't.

Chloe: Oh.