He cranked on the shower and climbed in, letting the hot water flow down his face and body. God, it was almost better than an orgasm.

Man, it has been a long time if you’re comparing getting wet to getting off.

He squirted the gel in his hand and created lather. Tempting, to jack off, as a reminder of the pleasures of the flesh, even if that pleasure was brought about by his own hand. But given how his day had gone, it’d be his luck to literally get caught f**king off.

What would Tierney do if she caught him with his hand on his cock? Back away with embarrassment, stammering and blushing? Roll her eyes and remind him to clean his come off the wall when he finished? Would she watch him with those liquid brown eyes? Or would she lend a hand?

Right. Might as well keep up that fantasy, bub, ’cause her hand and your c**k ain’t ever happening.

Sighing, Renner ignored his hard-on and finished sloughing off the mud. As he dried his chest, he realized he hadn’t grabbed clean clothes from the closet. Securing the towel around his waist, he opened the bathroom door and strolled out.

Naturally, Tierney walked into the office at that exact same time.

Naturally, the end of his towel snagged on the edge of her desk.

Naturally, the towel hit the floor.

Tierney’s jaw hit the floor too, seeing him naked as a f**king jaybird, sporting a hard-on that’d make any man proud.

Hell, he’d’ve been proud of it if the circumstances had been different.

And she sure wasn’t helping matters, acting as if she’d never seen an erect c**k before.

The more she stared, the happier his dick was to swell with pride, doing a stellar flagpole imitation.

About a year later, Tierney dragged her gaze away from his groin and looked him in the eye. “This is why I was against casual Thursdays. There’s always that one person who takes it too far.”

“You’re f**kin’ hilarious.” He set his hands on his hips. “I’m thinking we need a cabinet in the bathroom for clothes.”

“Maybe you should put it on your to-do list,” she suggested sweetly.

The woman was such a smart-ass. “Did you even look at it?” he demanded.


Her gaze lowered to his groin again and then zoomed back up to his eyes. “Yes, I looked at it. Do you want an assessment of its length?”

Well, hell, that’d been the wrong thing to say. He blushed. Goddammit, he never blushed. “We are talkin’ about the list, right?”

“Of course. What did you think we were talking about?” She sashayed past him. Close enough the end of her ponytail tickled his collarbone. Close enough he swore the silky fabric of her skirt brushed the tip of his cock. Close enough to bend over and pick up his towel. “I believe you dropped this.” She tossed it to him and slid behind her massive desk.

Damn her. Mostly damn her cool reaction to him standing in front of her buck-ass nekkid. Renner wasn’t a guy who strutted around shirtless like some gym rat, but he knew his body appealed to women. All women.

All women except for Tierney Pratt.

Maybe she was g*y.

Maybe you’re a sorry son of a bitch for thinking she has to be g*y to not be attracted to you, ass**le.

Just to be ornery, Renner slung the towel over his shoulder. He opened the closet and reached for his clothing. When he turned around, he caught Miz An-Erect-Naked-Man-Doesn’t-Faze-Me . . . eyeballing his ass. Big-time.

Okay. So Tierney definitely wasn’t g*y.

For some reason, that made him happy. So happy in fact, that he whistled as he nonchalantly strolled back to the bathroom. As much as he wanted to stop at her desk and ask a question, he didn’t.

That’d be over the top.

Chapter Eight

Tierney wouldn’t be dreading this meeting if she hadn’t seen Renner Jackson naked yesterday. Totally naked. Right in front of her. All rough-skinned, scarred, muscled, and aroused masculine excellence.

God. How had she managed not to stare at his penis—his fully erect penis—longer than she had? Her feigned bored expression? An Oscar-worthy performance for sure. Even if she had gotten busted two seconds later for ogling his butt.

After Renner meandered back to the bathroom, Tierney had to drop her head between her knees to keep from hyperventilating. She’d seen naked men in movies. In magazines. She’d even attended a nude, all-male revue in Las Vegas. But having a hunky man with that buff body so close to her? First time ever.

And it was also the first time she’d experienced overpowering lust. A need to put her hands all over those incredibly toned muscles. A need to put her mouth on his as she touched him. An urge unlike any she’d ever felt. A longing to wrap her fingers around his girth, watching his eyes burn with lust as she learned how to drive him wild with her hands. With her mouth. Any way he wanted. Any time. Any place.

It’d shocked her.

It’d annoyed her.

Flustered, she’d fled the office in an attempt to convince herself it was far better to be repelled by Renner than to be captivated by him.

The smarmy part of her brain taunted, too late for that, when the door opened and Mr. Captivating himself moseyed on in.

“You summoned me?” he drawled.

“Yes. I wanted to go over a few things.”

“Is this a fortify myself with whiskey conversation? Or a fortify myself with coffee conversation?”

“Coffee. I just made a fresh pot. Help yourself.”

He poured a cup and wandered to the seating area. “Can we do this over here? Sitting in front of your desk makes me feel like a naughty kid who’s been sent to the principal’s office.”


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