Page 16 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

Jessie’s Apartment, Hudson Yards, New York

“You have siblings?”

He finally speaks. His voice is deep, but soft at the same time. He sounds different from the rare occasions he talks in meetings. Is that the real him, or is this? His accent is New York mixed with Irish. It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. I want to record it then play it aloud when I’m alone in my bed so I can get off to that soft lilt of his over and over again.

Dylan O’Connell and I are having a conversation. Just me and him. It may be like pulling teeth because he’s so far out of his comfort zone, but he’s communicating with me all the same. He’s asked a question I don’t really want to answer, though. Jaine doesn’t want me to spill any details on my background until we’ve concluded this IRS matter. Given how reserved Dylan is it’s unlikely he’ll interrogate me though, so I do answer.

“I have one sister and two brothers.”

He nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose before dropping his attention to the floor, no doubt to avoid any eye contact. I use the opportunity to give him the once-over. It’s the first time I’ve seen him out of a business suit. A fitted long-sleeved white tee clings to his tall, lean frame, and dark blue jeans fit snugly on his slim hips.

He’s fucking beautiful. Ridiculously so.

I shift my gaze upwards to admire inky black hair that’s grown untidily out of a buzzcut to a face that’s impressively pale with a strong chin and nose and cheekbones any woman would kill for, all perfectly set of by neatly trimmed facial hair.

His lips, though. He has a fucking pout. I mean, what does a man need with one of those? How is that even fair? I only realize I’m staring and that he’s caught me doing so when I raise my eyes further and our gazes connect.

Blue on blue.

Sapphire to be exact. My heart skips a beat. For the first time in my life, I find myself at a total loss for words because there are none worthy. None that can adequately describe the emotions running through me right now as I stare straight into Dylan O’Connell’s beautiful soul.

I want to laugh and cry at the same time. And both for the same reason. At the pantie-wetting perfection standing in front of me that will never be mine. The unfairness of it all. This connection. This attraction. It can’t be all one-sided, surely?

I lick my lips, and his gaze drops to my mouth. He licks his own in silent response, and I’m held captive by their glistening fullness. Does he want to kiss me?

I say a silent prayer that he crosses the floor and does just that. He doesn’t, though. He just blushes, rocks back and forth on his feet, and clams up once more.

It’s obvious forcing a conversation just won’t work so I decide to try a different approach. He needs to be in his comfort zone.

Well, we’re in a lockdown situation so I’ve got all the time in the world to prize Dylan O’Connell out of that shell of his.

I wheel over the white leather executive chair from the desk on the other side of the room.

“Take a seat and I’ll explain how all this works.” I decide to speak in his language instead. From one geeky expert to another.

CHAPTERNINE

DYLAN

Jessie’s Apartment, Hudson Yards, New York

She wheelsa chair across and pats the surface for me to sit down.

“Take a seat and I’ll explain how all this works.”

The nerdy side of me is curious to witness the inner workings of all these systems she’s created from scratch, but the neanderthal male side of me that I didn’t even realize I possessed until now suddenly wants to kiss her. Because he’s managed to convince himself that’s exactly what it is that she’s chasing.

Is this attraction one-sided? Or have both of us been in denial as we danced around each other for months skirting whateverthisis.

Because when Jessie looked at me, I swear to God, I felt something.

Then again, did I.

Let’s face it, it’s more likely the case that, underneath it all, I really am just a caveman like my brothers. That all it took was the right woman and the right set of circumstances to unleash the uncouth O’Connell side in me that they all possess and bring it to the surface.

Physical urges. That’s all this is.

I sit down. Mistake. The subtle notes in her perfume wash over me, and my dick twitches. Fuck. I can’t sit here with a hard-on.

---