Carmella’s breath caught as she heated even more.

“Not going to last much longer when your pussy does that.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Don’t make me wait.”

He went to his toes each time he slid all the way inside, crushing her hand between them, and in a few more breaths, Carmella let out a strangled moan and came, slick and fast all around him.

There was no way he could have held back at that point. No way the sweet, tight squeeze of her body could be denied.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he murmured and came, holding her fast against him, heart hammering in his chest.

Carmella had come out of her shower and heard him in her kitchen. He’d done something to make life easier for her and who wouldn’t like that? It was pushy, but not in a creepy way.

When she’d entered the kitchen to find him on his knees, his love for fixing things lighting his expression, she’d let herself admit she was more than flattered. More than appreciative.

That he’d taken the time to not only fix the oven but do all the research it took to get him that far was something no one other than her family had ever done. Her ex had been useless. A pretty, lazy con artist who led with his dick because his brain was far smaller.

Duke’s behavior fed that part of her that wanted to be worthy. She knew that was dumb, but sometimes a tiny voice said it anyway.

And then he’d looked so happy that he’d fixed it and had been so sexy and had grabbed her and kissed her and, well, did all that.

He was so good at sex. Carmella knew she’d be sleeping well that night.

They sat on his deck, the stars beginning to sparkle overhead. A beer dangled from Duke’s fingers while Carmella ate even more lemon curd cookies.

“You need to move those away from my reach,” she said, watching Ginger happily gnaw on the new chew thing Duke had for her.

“I don’t think so. I like watching you enjoy them.”

She turned, one brow sliding up. “Are you saying I eat too much?”

He burst out laughing, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. “A man’d be a damned fool to say, much less believe, such a thing. No, darlin’, I like your expression when you’re doing something that brings you pleasure. Fucking is my favorite, but I’ll take what I can get.”

He was so charming it made her slightly desperate. He was a lot like the charismatic men she grew up around. Most of them were fucking idiots who couldn’t keep a job. But the men like Craig and her uncle were different. Duke was too.

But she’d be a fool to think too much more of that.

Instead, she would enjoy this. The heat between them. The way he made her feel when he touched her. It was new, exciting. At that precise moment she was satisfied. Happy.

That was more than enough.

“Tell me, did you always love to fix stuff?” she asked him.

“It was necessity at first. We didn’t have much so we had to fix things or go without. My mom would deny it now, but she was an excellent plumber when I was a kid.”

That’s how Carmella had started sewing. Hand-me-downs from Craig and things from the thrift store were the bulk of what she wore so she had to figure out how to repurpose things. Her aunt had given her a sewing machine for her thirteenth birthday.

She still used it. The thing was a workhorse and had been repaired more than once. But Carmella knew it, and it loved her as much as she loved it.

Duke spoke again, capturing her attention. “And then I realized I wasn’t only good at it, I loved it. Machines are rad puzzles I loved to solve. I still do.”

“Wow. That’s nice. I’m glad you do something that makes you so happy. I bet your family is proud of you.”

He paused a little longer than normal and she cringed that she’d asked and hit a nerve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He snorted, reaching out to take the hand finally empty after shoveling cookies into her mouth so busily. He kissed her palm. “Sweet. I want you to pry. It’s fine. Please don’t apologize. My parents came up very blue-collar so they take financial security and respectability really seriously after working their asses off to be well-off at last.”

There was a slight edge of something in his tone. Regret maybe? Bitterness? And when he continued speaking, it was gone, the smooth, laid-back veneer in place once more.

“So, as you might have guessed, they think owning a business like Twisted Steel is unstable. They wanted me to go to college and get a good job like my younger siblings have done. But over the last two years or so things have gotten a little better.”

Part of her, just a small part, thought, They don’t want you to be like me. But she knew Duke didn’t believe that so it was easy enough to let go of because a far bigger part of her was outraged that they didn’t see just what their son had built.

“Nothing like a mention in Celebrity magazine, numerous front-page articles in newspapers, and the cover of Time to lend credibility, eh?” Carmella kept her tone light.

“Yes!” He chuckled. “Though they’d prefer it if I did my job in chinos and a polo shirt, at least they’re finally understanding what we’ve built here.”

“I’m glad.”

“I think they’re coming up here when we do the grand opening party for the new showroom in September.”

They’d better. If not, Carmella might need to make a trip down to Southern California to pay them a visit herself.

“Good. They should. Going to be quite the party.”