Page 24 of Just This Once

I stroke faster, my breath coming in quick gasps. I’m close, so close. And then I think about her face, her rare smile, her even rarer laugh. And that’s all it takes. I come hard, squeezing my eyes shut to the pleasure and pain of it all.

After a moment, I shift, standing directly under the showerhead, letting the water wash over me, sending the evidence of my orgasm down the drain, before I turn off the water and step out of the shower. I towel off then wrap itaround my waist as I walk into my bedroom. And that’s when I see it. A text from Taryn.

In case I don’t tell you, thank you for the good work you’re doing.

My duchess, such a softie.

Chapter 8

Dante

Since I’m the project manager for multiple sites, I’m not at The Nest every day, but I park my truck outside today to check in with the electricians who are installing all the new equipment after we gutted the place, working as quickly as possible so Taryn isn’t left without a kitchen that long. The subcontractors got the new floors in, fixed the small leak in the ceiling, and are now working on the wiring.

With two coffees in hand—I’d learned Taryn has a bit of a sweet tooth and brought her coffee with lots of cream and sugar—I head in through the back, greeting the workers in both English and Spanish. I can’t read worth a damn, but my accent for an easyQué onda?is pretty good.

“For me?” Raf asks in his thick accent, jutting his chin to my second coffee, and I laugh.

“Get the fuck outta here. Where’s the buñuelos you promised me?”

“Carla is baking this weekend,” he says with a smack to my back.

“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He waves at me with a congenial smile, saying offhandedly, “Jefe is upstairs.”

Technically, I’m Raf’s boss, like all the other subcontractors, but Taryn is thebigboss. And she runs a tight ship.

I take the steps two at a time and find her in the hall, speaking to a housekeeper in low tones, and I patiently wait until she’s done to hand over her coffee. She accepts it with brows raised up to her hairline, her mouth curved in a surprised little O.

“No one’s ever brought you coffee before?” I ask, a little grumpily because that’s shit.

“No one besides my brothers.”

I still don’t like that, and I huff. “I would’ve brought you breakfast, but I didn’t know if you have any food allergies. Do you have food allergies?”

“No, I don’t, but you don’t need to do that.”

“I want to.”

She steps past me into one of the bedrooms. “I don’t want you to.”

I pivot to lean against the doorframe, watching as she sips from the coffee before setting it down on the little table in the corner. “Taste okay?”

“It’s good, thank you.” She starts to peel back the bedding, her voice sharp as a knife when she says, “You can leave now.”

“I’m good, thank you.”

I can hear her eye roll as she yanks on the quilt. Next are the bedsheets, my eyes glued to her as she strides around to the other side of the bed so she’s facing me when she bends at the waist. It’s not my fault I have a direct line of sight down her sweater when it gapes, but I do take advantage.

“Eyes up,” she says, and I take my time, meeting her gaze.

I smile. “You look very pretty today.”

“Stop it.” She straightens and tosses the sheet on the floor, and what I wouldn’t give to throw her on top of the building pile. Get rid of that sweater and pull the cups of her bra down. “You promised you’d be professional.”

I lift my arm, gazing around innocently. “I think I am. I’m well within my rights to compliment you.”

She closes her eyes and takes a big breath, one I hear all the way across the room. “You’re incorrigible.”

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