She's hot, uncomfortably so and makes a mental note to alert Henry to the fact the air-con is on the fritz again. She'd do it now but she's 'supposed' to be paying attention to Will's monthly report and given how she found him this morning -using his desk as a pillow- the least she can do now is appear attentive.
It's difficult though and she shifts forward, subtly trying to loosen the fabric of her blouse. It's starting to stick uncomfortably and she fidgets, hiking up her skirt below the desk. When Will glances up she quickly fakes a smile hoping he won't pick up on her discomfort and it seems to work because a moment later he's back to rattling off information, turning to the next page of his report.
It's then she notices it; a stain, no bigger than a five cent piece resting above his shirt pocket.
She tries to ignore it but her eyes are instinctively drawn to the darker patch of fabric or perhaps more correctly, just left of the blemish. The area where his shirt is usually closed and pressed neatly together, on some occasions open enough to reveal a t-shirt beneath. Neither is the case this time. Instead he has the first four buttons undone giving her a clear view of his bare chest and she idly wonders if the cooling system has gone down in more places than just her office.
She hopes so, because at least then Henry will notice and get the bloody thing fixed.
Shifting again, she tries to focus on Will's words but she's childishly enamoured by the way his shirt parts further with each intake of breath. It plunges him into what she considers inappropriate work attire but she can hardly comment when the faux pas only exists at one second intervals. It's a ridiculous notion and she also wonders if dehydration isn't starting to affect her sanity.
He takes a longer breath, apparently stuck on something he's written and she's overcome by the sudden urge to release the next button that's straining across his chest. It's a loss of inhibition she hasn't felt since the Nubbin incident nearly three years ago and she bunches her hair loosely, hoping it will help cool her down.
It doesn't work.
She can feel the flush creeping up the side of her neck she pulls the hair down trying to hide the discolouration. The movement catches Will's attention and she forces herself to meet his gaze, wiping the sweat that's started to gather over her brow.
He immediately frowns in concern and, ignoring the protest that she's fine, abandons the report to move round to her side of the desk. She leans in as his fingers fan across her forehead but despite the cool touch she flushes more as his bare chest presents at eye level.
He states the obvious, that it is overly warm in her office but the slight waver in his voice alludes to something else.
It's then she realises the state of her skirt, hiked up to a point where even 'inappropriate work attire' falls short as a description... and they're both aware he's staring. For the first time she's not preoccupied with his chest, instead watching his tongue dart out to subconsciously skim his lips. She wants nothing more than to taste them, reach up and vent the heat building inside her but she manages to resist letting out a ragged breath instead.
He stiffens in response and for a moment she thinks it's because he isn't interested but then she realises his eyes are still glued appreciatively to the large expansion of skin she's showing and it's with a hint of enjoyment that she teasingly re-crosses her legs.
His gaze snaps up and she smirks but the tables quickly turn when he brushes his hand over her thigh, commenting that she's far too hot there as well. She bites back a frustrated groan, all traces of amusement gone as his hand slides down to her knee and she can no longer resist the temptation, dragging her nail up to pop the buttons on his shirt.
She's rewarded with well defined muscle and stares, lips slightly parted as they retract and expand under her delicate touch.
Without warning her chair suddenly tilts back and his mouth captures her surprised yelp, hands gripping the arm rest to keep them from toppling back. She recovers quickly, palming experimentally over the front of his jeans and he falters growling heavily against her throat. It's possibly the sexiest noise she's ever heard in her life and she arches towards him, taking his ear between her teeth and sucking the sensitive skin.
He's so distracted that when the phone's shrill ring explodes on the desk he lets go of the chair and she bangs her knee on the wood to keep from flying back. A curse escapes her lips at the sudden sting of pain but she ignores it, floundering for the receiver.
It's Henry.
His alarm is immediate but controlled and she mentally interprets it as, 'yes, there is a problem but no one's likely to die so it's all good.' He confirms her assumption with the news that one of the Nubbins has broken free from containment... but it's been de-sexed so there's no chance of a raging army like last time. Still, his advice is that it would be best to track the thing down.
As if on cue the shiny red stapler on her desk jumps -seemingly of it's own accord- and she glances at Will who has been hovering near enough to hear the conversation. He scrubs his forehead in obvious frustration and she tells Henry that she has a vague idea where it might be hiding. Before he can ask 'how' she hangs up and lunges towards the paperweight that has just toppled onto the floor.
Her hands close around the invisible ball of fur and she stands, turning back to Will with sigh. To his credit he looks more amused than embarrassed and she's surprised when steps closer, nimble fingers delicately tugging the hem of her skirt down to a more acceptable level. She thanks him, flushing at the fact she was about to go find Henry in such a state... and then flinches, aware of how she must look even with Will's help. He assures her she's decent and she humours him, deciding not to dwell on her fervent appearance.
It's strange but even with the evidence literally in her hands it feels different than the last time they were in this situation. She's almost certain there's something other than lust perceptible in his gaze and makes a mental note to explore the possibility when the effects have completely warn off. He's clearly on the same wave length because he comments that the heating in his own room is running fine and she's welcome to take advantage of that fact any time.
Relieved there is no awkwardness between them she smirks, telling him that she might just take him up on the offer but in the interim they could probably both benefit from a long cold shower. He asks if that's an invitation and she smiles coyly, leaving him alone to figure it out.
If he does, she decides she'll make a call to Henry and tell him not to rush in fixing the air-con.