by Taryn Quinn
I knew he was close.
Knew his body almost better than by own. I wanted to watch him go over. I needed to.
I tipped my hips and nearly made my own eyeballs roll back into my head. There was something to be said for a man who was very proportional. Especially when it benefited me so much.
“Don’t make me go alone.”
“Never alone. Not ever again.”
His eyes went wide just before I wrapped around him—my legs, my arms, and I sealed my mouth over his. I swallowed his groan, accepted that he was mine, and offered him the same.
He trembled in my embrace, his release so complete that we both melted off the desk on to the floor.
I giggled as all six-feet-four of him took up the entire Aubusson rug. He was splayed out on his back much as I had been on his desk a few minutes ago. This time, I was laying over half of him.
I’d lost my borrowed shirt somewhere, but PMS still wore his. I dragged my nail down his chest and snickered at the missing button on his vest. “Not sure when that happened.”
He lifted his head to look down at himself. “Worth it.” His large hand covered mine.
I laid my cheek against his chest. His racing heart slowly synced up with mine until we were breathing together. With his other hand, he played with my tangled hair.
“Ry—”
“I love you, Preston.”
“What?” His head came up so fast, he rapped it on the underside of his desk. “Ow!”
I laughed. “Are you okay?”
He rolled us until we were face to face, both of our heads under the desk. Sunlight slashed across the floor, gilding part of his disheveled dark hair and highlighting half his face. “Say that again.”
I brought my hand up to cup his jaw. “I love you.”
He covered my hand. “You’re not just saying it because I gave you four orgasms, right?”
“Okay, pal. It was more like two.”
“Definitely three.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve never said the words in post-coital bliss.” I looked down at his mouth. “Never said them to any man, actually.”
He nudged up my chin. “No one?”
I blinked away the sting of tears. “No one mattered enough to give the words to. Not until you.”
He tried to sit up and whacked his head again. “Fuck.” He inched back, dragging me with him.
“Hey, watch the rug burn, PMS.”
“Sorry. I just can’t have this conversation under my damn desk.” He fixed his pants and dragged me into his lap, straddling him. “Let’s try this again.”
“I’m not going to offer up a soliloquy.”
“I wouldn’t expect one. But you’ve truly never said it to anyone?”
“Well, my mother and few select friends of course.”
“I am not select friends.”
The acid in his tone made me laugh. “That’s for sure.” At his narrow-eyed growl, I could do nothing else but frame his face with my hands. “You gave me time and I appreciate it. You gave yourself freely. No games, no strings, and no power plays. Okay, maybe a little strong-arming in getting me to do what you want sometimes, but I don’t mind that part so much.”
His eyes were rimmed with red, but he didn’t say a word. Sometimes he was smart enough to know that it was my turn to talk.
“Twice today, I got news, and all I wanted to do was tell you. The first thought I had was, PMS will absolutely go crazy when I tell him this.”
“Tell me what?”
“It’s not important.”
He sighed.
“I mean it is, and I’ll get to that. But the important part is that all I wanted to do was share my news with you. I’ve been on my own for so long. The only person who ever truly supported me was—”
“You.”
“Yes. Luna and April have always been my girls. And I’d never discount that, but it’s different. I always thought it made me weak to need someone. But you made me see that it’s more powerful to have a connection like ours.” I stroked my thumbs over his cheeks. “I believe in us. Believe this is exactly where I’m supposed to be forever. With you, wherever we are.”
His arms tightened around me. “You can’t take back forever, Moonbeam. You realize that?”
I laughed and didn’t care that a few tears tumbled down my face. Relief unfurled inside my chest. I’d trapped those words inside the cage of my heart for so long. “Yes. I’m okay with that.”
“I love you so goddamn much.” He kissed me until we were both breathless and wincing from our position on the floor.
Finally, I slid off his lap and stretched my legs.
“Now about that news.”
I laughed. “Hang on, let me get it.”
“I’d get up, but I think you may have put me in traction. For real this time.” He twisted his back before rolling his shoulders.
I crawled over to the chair where he’d tossed my gifts.
“You have the finest assets in this building, Miss Moon.”
I glanced back to find him on his side, with his head propped on his hand. He waggled his eyebrows at me. Playful Preston was taking some getting used to, but I liked it. I grabbed the box of bear claws and honey glazed donuts as well as my other bit of news.
“I’m enjoying the show. Please keep crawling this way.”
“Pig.”
“Indeed.”
Then I realized that I was only wearing my sheer tank top and showing all my wares. I shrugged and offered up the box.
He flipped it open and took out one of the honey glazed.
I selected a bear claw and tapped it against his. “Cheers.”
“So, what kind of news did you have?”
I took a big bite of my confection. I’d forgotten to eat today. I’d been in meetings with Penn Masterson and his team for most of the day. “Penn’s lawyer sent back the contract and accepted your revisions.”
“Excellent.” He reached up one long arm to his desk drawer and pulled out a small package of wipes. He washed his hands and offered me one. “I knew he was lowballing you.”
I took one and cleaned up. “Well, after the site went down today from Roz and Sylvia’s debut, I think he realized that.”
“That’s wonderful.” He scooted over to me. “Can we get up and sit in a chair like civilized people?”
“You’re the one who dragged me to the floor, ace.”
He rolled to his knees with a groan. “I’m glad I splurged for the nice rug, but I’m getting too old for this business.” He held out his hand to help me up. “What do you have there?”
I held the frame against my chest. “A little something to say thank you.”
He smoothed my hair over my shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me.”
I looked down at the professionally matted comic strip. “This one won’t be out for probably a year—maybe never.” I brushed my fingertip over the new addition. “When I came up with the idea for Roz and Sylvia, I thought I knew exactly what the comic would be. Then you came along.” I traced the little gray cat’s face in the first box of the strip of illustrations.
His small face was pressed to the window, rain dripping from his torn ear. The little white fox, Sylvia, had the hair on her back up, her face in a snarl. In the next box, her human Roz was opening the window for the three-legged cat, letting it inside their home.
In the third box, the two animals were face to face, with the gray cat bumping his head under Sylvia’s chin, offering affection. He wore a tiny red collar with a bell. Sylvia was giving him some serious side-eye.
In the final box, the cat and fox were curled together in a soft bed, their bodies making the yin and yang symbol.
“At the time, I was fighting against Roz and Sylvia getting another roommate. I dreamed of this nebulous little animal in the window. I resisted it, but it kept on coming back.”
He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Stubborn…cat.”
I pressed my lips together agains
t a smile. “Now I know it was my subconscious trying to let you in. Dreams are weird, especially for a witch. But then when you found Smoky—”
“We found him.” His voice was soft as he covered my hands on the frame.
I huffed out a half laugh. “We found Smoky. And I knew something a little bigger was happening. I really didn’t want to face it. But love has never been easy for me. Even though the universe kept giving me nudges your way.”
“For that, I’m forever thankful.”
“I know you don’t believe in the things I do.”
He raised my chin with his finger until our eyes met. “We ultimately make our own choices, but I would never discount a higher power showing me the path to you.”
“I would be fine without you.” He stiffened and I placed my hand on his chest. “Just let me finish. I would be fine without you. And my comic would have been fine without Smoky.”
His brows furrowed, but he held his tongue though I knew it was killing him.
“But I’m so much better with you.” I dashed away a tear. “My work is richer because of that feisty cat. I’m grateful for you, Preston. And loving you just makes everything better. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”
“We’ve been on fast forward since we met. Waiting for you to catch up was worth it.” He lowered his mouth to mine. “Every minute,” he said against my lips. “I’d wait as long as you needed.”
He was so sure. No doubt at all.
It made it easier for me to believe him. To believe the echo of the love he offered and realize it also lived in me—and that it was growing by the day.
I set the frame on his desk and kissed him back. “Oh, and about that assistant position? It’s permanently filled.”
Sooo…
You might be wondering what happened with Ryan’s best bish, Luna. Handily, we’ve got her story right here for you!
We even have a little sneaky peek!
Thanks so much for reading HIS TEMPORARY ASSISTANT. I wasn’t the best student in school, but when I find the hottie teacher next door naked in my bed, I’m ready to put in an all-nighter…
One-click WRONG BED BABY now!
INTERESTED IN BISHOP’s STORY?
MY BOSS’S SECRET
Coming Fall 2021
Sleeping with my boss was a mistake. Especially since he took the job knowing I would be under him.
Just like I was before.
When we didn’t know each other. When it was only about hot island nights and passion and recklessness.
But now I work for him, and he’s not satisfied with how I ended things. And if he gets what he wants, I’ll be underneath him in every possible way…over and over again.
One-click MY BOSS’s SECRET now!
And please sign up for our newsletter to find out about more books and fabulous giveaways.
You can also join our super funny and little bit crazy Facebook group, Word Wenches.
We appreciate our readers so much! If you loved the book please let your friends know. That’s what this community is all about.
If you’re so inclined, we’d love a review on your favorite book site.
Now…turn the page for a special sneak peek of WRONG BED BABY now!
Wrong Bed Baby
Moving sucked.
Moving because your bachelor pad for half a decade was being torn down by Gavin Forrester, the hotshot big time developer in town who wanted to build more condos, really sucked.
But getting a hefty payment to help compensate for the inconvenience of moving helped ease the pain. Slightly.
“You gonna get a move on or just keep staring into the back of this SUV like it holds the answers to good sex?”
I didn’t even glance at my best friend Lucky. I knew he’d be looming over the back of my vehicle to show off his biceps to maximum advantage, just in case any ladies happened to wander by.
“I know the answer to that,” I muttered. “And it involves me and a glass of merlot.”
“That’s how you warm yourself up? You sound like a chick, but hey, do what works for you, man.”
I had to laugh. “Shut the hell up, Roberts, and grab the other end of this hutch.”
He elbowed me out of the way. “You might prefer group activities, but I can handle this one on my own, son.” He hefted up the handcrafted oak piece built by my older brother August with a grunt.
The sound made me grin as I stepped back and waved him toward the propped open door to my apartment building. “By all means. I’ll just stand here and cool off with a refreshing beverage.” I popped open the cooler and grabbed a can of lemonade before flipping open the top. “Ahh. Tastes good,” I said as I took an exaggerated swallow.
In a truly spectacular feat, Lucky managed to flip me off before hauling the hutch toward the open door.
Music suddenly spilled out, loud and unrepentant. It wasn’t something you’d hear on the local station either. This was a sinuous, exotic beat, the kind that brought to mind warm breezes, a gorgeous sunset, and an even more gorgeous woman belly-dancing with a colorful snake wrapped around her upper torso.
I took another drink. Or maybe that was just me.
Lucky didn’t seem to pay it any mind as he barreled through the doorway and headed up the stairs with his latest bulky item of furniture.
I turned toward the back of the SUV to take stock of what was left. In short, it was a lot.
This wasn’t the first trip I’d made over here, but we were in early innings. My new apartment was still mostly a barren wasteland. I’d skipped hiring a moving company, considering I hadn’t had far to go and could call on a number of fit dudes like myself to help out.
Oddly enough, most of them had become suddenly unreachable despite knowing for weeks the days I’d planned to move. August would be over later after work, but I couldn’t count on any of the rest of the slugs I knew. As if wives and children and gainful employment could keep them that busy.
Whatever.
Lucky, however, used any attempt to show off and looked at carrying heavy furniture as the best opportunity going. So far, his plan had not borne much fruit, although a couple of the gooey-eyed young baristas at Macy’s coffee shop had come out a few times to offer us refreshments. Lucky hadn’t been too keen on any of them, since most of those girls were barely legal.
He had some standards. Not a lot, mind you, but some.
He jogged up beside me as I was dragging out the small bookcase that doubled as a nightstand in my bedroom. “Dude, there’s some kind of chick party in there, and I think they’re stripping.”
I snorted and set my bookcase on the pavement. “I think heat stroke has finally warped your brain.” I swiped my forearm over my sweaty forehead and grabbed for my already sweating can of lemonade. “It has to be ninety out here.”
“Ninety-five,” he informed me, flashing me his smart watch. “Not that you’ve been doing much to get sweaty, you lazy fuck.”
I shrugged. “Conserving energy for when the help is gone is a valid strategy. We both know you’ll only stick around as long as there’s a chance you’ll get laid.”
He waggled his brows at me. “I didn’t know that was on the table.”
“Not in your fondest dreams, pal. I don’t care if you unload every piece of furniture by yourself and decorate too.”
“I don’t fucking decorate. That’s what sisters and girlfriends are for. You’ve got one.”
“A sister? Definitely. Not that she has enough time for that shit. She’s not even around right now, remember?”
My baby sister Ivy was in LA with her husband and their baby daughter Rhiannon for a week, which had been a tactical error on Ivy’s part since we were smack dab in the middle of a heat wave. Her ice cream truck Rolling Cones would’ve made a killing if she’d been open for longer than the banker’s hours she kept the truck operating on while she was away. She had a good crew to help her, but she preferred shorter shifts when she wasn’t around to manage things. If she’d bee
n able to stay open until 10 pm on these sweltering nights as she usually did, she probably could’ve funded Rhi’s college education.
Not that her fancy rich husband needed any help with that.
I wasn’t bitter, toiling away on a teacher’s salary. Mostly because I loved my kids. I enjoyed their curiosity and enthusiasm and sometimes even their mischief-making. Aug claimed my affinity for children came from the fact that I hadn’t matured past twelve myself, but I would’ve said at least thirteen. Maybe fourteen on a good week.
In any case, I was happy with my lot. I wouldn’t have minded a bit more green to grease the wheels, but then again, who would?
Lucky tied back his long hair, swatting away the sweaty pieces sticking to his neck. “Yeah, Ivy’s getting used to that high-rolling life. Next thing you know, she’ll move out there. Probably get a pad on the beach. That’d be something to have a place to crash at on the west coast, huh?”
I didn’t say anything. My family was close. Sure, we had our occasional spats like any other. Now and then, we didn’t speak for days at a time. Life got busy.
But I didn’t want to lose my sister across the damn country. I definitely didn’t want to only see my niece on FaceTime and for occasional vacations. I was her favorite uncle. The fun one who’d hired a clown for her last birthday—Lucky, of course—and helped her whip up and down the sidewalk on her tricycle. She’d had a small accident and busted open her lip on account of the raised lip on the sidewalk, but she’d healed fine, right? And she had a hell of a story for the kids at playgroup. You know, for when she could talk coherently.
She was a sentient toddler now, so I was enjoying my little RhiRhi more with each passing month. But infants were another story. My other niece, Vivian, was a bit younger, so we were still working on communication beyond goo-goo gaa-gaa.
I wasn’t one for babies. Nope, never. Not my bag. I preferred kids once they got past the drooling and excessive pooping stages.
