Page 67 of Driven Daddy

“Don’t worry, I’m well-versed in television now.” It was the only thing that helped me survive for most of this year. Binge watching all the streaming services had been my lifeline.

“We’ll have to swap lists.”

“Why?”

Dammit. The kneejerk asshole reaction was so close to the surface.

“Because I’m interested in your brain as much as your phenomenal body, Rita Savage.”

“Unlikely. Back to the workshop. Do you want to do it together or separately?”Separatelywas my instinctive response before he could weigh in, but I swallowed it. “Or would you be slighted if I had more people?”

He blinked, then he gave me an exasperated laugh. “The blade goes deep with you, Duchess.”

I jerked back a step. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? That icy tone in your voice is very regal. Fits.”

“No, it doesn’t.” I walked away from him before I did something stupid like toss my life-giving coffee in his stupid face.

Nothing about me was regal or elegant. I was probably better named for a wasp at the moment. I couldn’t quite control the annoyance, and I was ready to sting unprovoked.

“Hey. It’s just a nickname.” He followed me, setting his mug down on the island with a snap. “Can you just tell me what it is that I do to piss you off so easily?”

“Look, maybe you should just go.” I gripped the counter beside the fridge, the toaster oven blurring with my anger. It didn’t have anywhere to go and was so stupid to have ripped into him. Why would he call some foster kid who didn’t know her mother or father a duchess?

And why did it matter?

I wasn’t usually this touchy, for God’s sake.

It’s not like he knew anything about me except how to unlock my usually stubborn orgasms.

“No, we should figure this out. How the hell are we going to do the workshop together if you want to rip my head off for breathing wrong?” He came up behind me, cupping my upper arms. “Maybe it’s not about me at all.”

I whirled around, knocking his hands off me. I tapped my finger into the center of his chest. “Oh, it’s about you.”

“I don’t think so, Duchess.”

“Stop calling me that.” I drove him back a step, until he simply stopped, and I crashed into him.

He slid his fingers into my hair, flicking away the tie until my hair fell around my face. “It’s what you are to me.”

“It’s not,” I whispered. “It’s not who I am.”

“Oh, but I’d say you are. I’ve read up about you, Rita. You and your co-writer are New York Times Bestsellers. Do you know how hard that is to do when you’re not traditionally published?”

“Traditional print only,” I said shortly.

“Exactly. You guys played the game and won all the prizes.”

He gripped my hair at the base of my skull and my nipples instantly tightened. God, that was so good. Why did this man, of any of them that had ever touched me, make me burn like this?

“Duchess suits you better because you’re nobility in the genre.”

I gripped his wrist. “I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are.”

“Not anymore!” I yelled. My chest heaved. “Not anymore,” I repeated in a whisper. “Nothing is like it was anymore.”

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