Page 17 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“Shall I make us a drink first?” I quickly stand while blurting out the words, and she arches a sleek eyebrow at me, no doubt surprised by the offer, but also at my speaking without being prompted.

“Coffee, black. In fact, I should come with you. You won’t know where anything is.”

“I’m sure I can….”

She ignores me and walks past, making her way to the kitchen. I follow, my traitorous eyes trained on her arse the entire time. It’s as perfect as the rest of her, as are her two endless legs. My dick situation worsens. This is not good. Not good at all. I pray to the Holy Father that she doesn’t notice.

“You okay if I make it using the press? I’m not a huge fan of coffee machines, although I have both.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” I mutter. Right now, I couldn’t care less. I’m no longer paying attention to anything apart from her backside in those tight white jeans.

See, having these alien feelings is one thing, but I could never act on them, and definitely not uninvited. But I’m not ashamed to admit that, right now, I wish I were more like my brothers because I know they’d just go for it. I know they’d have flicked the bird at said alien feelings and kissed her senseless by now.

Lost in my thoughts, I follow, then, like the eejit I am, I bang into her when she stops dead in the kitchen.

She immediately spins around and smirks at my clumsiness, and my eyes drop to her cupid’s bow lips. Fucking perfect they are. I stare at them, watching as she flicks her tongue out to lick their surface.

Hot. Wet. Pink.

Yup, I’ll take some of that. All of that, in fact. And anywhere at all. I’m not fussy.

Jesus Christ, Dylan. Get a grip.

Tilting her head up, she stares at me, our faces mere inches apart.

Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her. Do it.

I can feel her breath on my face. Against my mouth. My dick’s now rock fucking hard. Closing my eyes, I quickly turn away, hearing an escape of breath as I do. Was that me or her? She must know that was an almost-kiss moment. Is she disappointed? Relieved? Or did she not realize what was going through my one-track mind? What I almost did. What I was so fucking tempted to do.

“Cream or sugar?”

The moment has passed. She’s still her chirpy self, so I guess she never picked up on any of it.

I don’t get a chance to reply as she answers her phone on hands-free while continuing to make the drinks.

“Howdy, partner. A word of warning. Dyl’s here, so keep it clean. We don’t want to be labeled as bad influences by the rest of the O’Connell clan, although I think we already fall under their heading of sacrilegious.”

“Dyl.”

“Jaine,” I answer with a smile in my voice.

“Sacrilegious? Do you mean I’m that alongside the other colorful names they call me? Big brother Eoin in particular.”

“Well, he does have the hots for you.” Jessie smirks at me and winks.

So, Eoin’s infatuation is obvious even to her and Jaine.

“Eoin only has the hots for himself. He’ll be the type that kisses his reflection in the mirror every morning while whispering a prayer of thanks to The Lord for making him so good-looking. Anyway, enough about him. Is everything going according to plan?”

“We’re on with it. I’m just making a coffee, and then I’ll be showing Dyl my systems. It’s important he understands their synergy, so he knows which areas to focus on.”

“Good idea. Listen, I’m just about to go on a conference call with Eoin and the IRS. I’ll let you know the outcome.”

Jaine hangs up. She seldom, if ever, uses the words hello or goodbye. I find myself wondering if Jessie knows about her out-of-hours role, quickly realizing that it’s doubtful.

Jaine wouldn’t put her in danger by burdening her with that heavily guarded secret.

Dylan’s Apartment, Hudson Yards, New York

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