One Bossy Dare

“Hey, uh—she did a fantastic job today, Mr. Lancaster,” I say carefully. “She’s an awesome kid. The work would’ve limped along much slower without her lending me a hand. I think she learned a few things, too.”

He nods with a suspicious look, like he doesn’t trust my praise.

“Good. Just make sure she doesn’t get in the way of anything major.” He doesn’t even make eye contact as he walks over to the bench against the wall to fetch Destiny’s bag—probably so she doesn’t forget it.

“Hey, wait, I was helping Eliza finish—”

“I said let’s go!” he barks.

Destiny rolls her eyes as he power walks away and then starts moving to catch up.

Beautiful.

Why did I ever feel sorry for this walking time bomb again? I want to tell him to watch how he talks to her, but she’s not my daughter.

I barely know them. It’s definitely not my place to butt into their family life.

Still, that has to sting.

I look at Destiny and whisper loudly, “You were a huge help today. Thank you so much. See ya soon.”

“Destiny, I said let’s go.” He waves at her, standing near the exit, the door propped open with his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she mouths to me and scurries away.

Jeez. His whole aura bleeds melancholy today.

I don’t think he looked at me once. What gives?

“She doesn’t get in the way, dude,” I mumble under my breath. “The lump of Cole who picks her up, on the other hand...”

He lingers at the door as Destiny walks past him.

Before he leaves, he turns his head over his shoulder and looks at me. “Don’t stay here all night. Security changes at ten. Our garage has never had an incident, but you’re still a walking insurance liability after that.”

If I punted a cookie in your face, Cole Lancaster, would that be a liability?

I don’t say it, though.

I settle for, “Piss off, Commander Coffee.”

He doesn’t even grunt in response.

Somehow, silence is worse than a parting shot.

This guy is so off-kilter.

One minute, he needs me so bad he’ll track me down through a random barista and dole out big bonuses. The next, I’m not worth talking to.

Whatever.

I’ll deal with it the way I handle most of my people problems—by eating most of the test cookies that aren’t left for Gina and the techs.

I only leave enough extras to go with the S’mores Mocha I plan on him sampling tomorrow.

I’m working on a drink in the lab when I hear the big metal door swing open.

Commander Coffee marches up behind me and throws his arms around my waist.

This should be awkward. Highly inappropriate.

But when I turn to face him, I’m smiling like it’s pure heaven.

He hoists me up and sets me on the marble counter, cupping my face with one huge hand while his big blue eyes drill through my soul.

“Eliza.” My name is a statement. A question. A promise.

“Cole,” I whisper back, a tremor in my voice.

He tilts my chin back roughly, his hand gliding to my throat.

Oh, God.

It’s so wrong, but the way my core pulses sends my moral compass spinning.

My eyes flutter shut and I forget how to breathe.

When I finally do again, he smells like salt and citrus mingled with coffee. He smells so—Cole.

When his lips crush down on mine, I’m flipping delirious.

The kiss is long and smooth and devilishly sensuous. His hands are another kind of black magic, moving up my thighs, spreading them apart, bringing his fingers to my aching center.

He leans me back against the cool marble, never breaking the interplay of teeth and tongue and so much passion.

“I’m going to fuck you now. Right here,” he whispers hoarsely. His beard rakes my skin as he pushes his mouth to my ear.

I’m trembling.

His warm hand teases my mound before running down my entire leg and coming back up again so slowly. He shoves my skirt out of the way with a guttural noise burning in his throat.

Ahhhhhh!

I’m screaming.

Actually, something else is screaming. The world’s most annoying alarm clock.

I jolt up and bang it with my fist, wiping sweat and sticky hair from my brow.

Sweet baby Jesus.

This stupid alarm steals my orgasms and robs me of sleep?

More importantly—yikes—I’ve got to get laid. It’s no question when I’m having wet dreams about Commander Coffee right after his latest grump-fit kept me up half the night overthinking.

It hurts to look at the clock.

Yep, it’s time to get moving.

I’m meeting Dakota at another homeless benefit downtown, and I promised to bring along my best cold brew.

I rush through the shower and grab my things, then arrive downtown on my bike only a few minutes late. Dakota is already there, setting things up.

“Hey! How’s the new job going? Surviving?” she asks with an amused smile.

I place the coffee urns on the table next to a box of pens and the usual rating cards.

“The job itself is pretty awesome. You wouldn’t believe the lab—it has everything, Dakota. There’s probably a coffee-powered vibrator tucked away somewhere I haven’t found yet.”