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“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” I scowl at him.
He purses his lips, then seems to come to a decision. “Remember the camera?”
I glance up at the small device hidden in the ceiling, and the hair on my forearms rises. “That’s not creepy at all,” I murmur.
“Well, I have this fetish.”
I whip my head in his direction.
“Excuse me?”
“Now, don’t jump to conclusions.” His chest rises and falls. “It’s just, I like being on display.”
I blink. “You mean, like being watched?”
“Exhibitionism. It’s my kink.”
A pulse thuds to life low in my belly. No, no, no. I will not be turned on by this talk of kink and fetishes and such. “So, you’re trying to say that—”
“Being on camera makes me horny.”
I gape. Seriously, my mouth falls open, and I know I’m staring at him like he just told me he’s from another planet—which he might be, because I’ve never in my life heard something so… kinky.
“So, if someone is watching you… it makes me want to put on a performance?”