The Wrong Reciprocation (Taboo & Voodoo #2)

FUTURE BABY DADDY

Scrumptious.

Delectable.

Pure fucking yumminess.

Just a few of the many words that Twyla Jacobs would use to describe the lightly-toasted, sepia-toned man who was currently in her purview.

Thick all over with heavily cut arms, shoulders, and thighs that boasted an obviously athletic life outside of his, often sedentary, job as an educator, with a taut stomach and a tight ass made for squeezing, it was a wonder that he didn't burst out of his fitted slacks and cotton polo.

She stood on one end of the lavish teacher’s lounge in the main wing of Bright Horizons, her butt against the counter as her tea steeped behind her.

Her eyes were unabashedly trained on the man who’d just walked through the door.

Months ago, at the beginning of the school year, she’d told herself that it only made sense to wait in the break room while her tea steeped before returning to the not yet rowdy hallway where her kindergarten classroom was located.

She’d rationalized that waiting meant she could start enjoying the beverage as soon as possible; maybe even doctor it up before leaving the shared break room.

It didn't matter that the only thing she ever added to her mug of loose-leaf mint tea was organic wildflower honey that she brought from home and kept in the snack drawer at her desk.

Nowadays, she didn't even try to mask her true intentions.

She stayed put in hopes of catching a delightful eyeful of Arturo Benavides, and thankfully, her efforts were never in vain.

Every morning, like clockwork, the man strutted into the room and hit the coffee machine before making a beeline for her.

And every morning, Twyla cradled her mug in her hands as some semblance of a shield while she stared at his enticing frame and tried not to swoon under his slightly accented voice as they conversed about mundane things like the weather or if the other had plans for the upcoming weekend.

Then they would part ways and Twyla would return to her classroom to welcome in her students.

The entire ordeal only lasted about six minutes, but those six minutes had jump-started her morning for the past three months.

It was the way that he watched her nearly the same way that she watched him.

His warm, brown eyes roved her face and he would listen intently as she prattled on about antiquing or trying a new recipe for cinnamon-raisin bread.

The way he asked to try her food when she mentioned what she’d had for dinner the previous night, shaking his head when she offered to bring him a plate, and implying that it likely tasted best directly from the pot.

It was clear that the attraction between them was mutual, but for some reason, neither of them ever made a move.

Twyla had no idea what held him back, but the prying eyes of her coworkers kept her from being as forward as she wanted to be.

Although prestigious, Bright Horizons was filled with the same sort of gossiping, nosy individuals as your average run-of-the-mill school.

The private institution catered to the wealthy who valued discretion, but internally, information was a free-for-all.

When Arturo first arrived in late July, people were buzzing with excitement at every meeting about the sexy engineer who’d joined the staff as the webmaster.

Twyla had been curious, but knew there was slim chance of her laying eyes on him.

The day that he happened into the teacher’s lounge, her life changed.

Tired of chewing the lipstick from her lips as she fantasized about him, Twyla finally decided to ask for what she wanted. When Arturo stepped in front of her that morning, his steaming mug of spicy coffee appearing tiny in his large hands, Twyla made up her mind.

"Do you like tacos?" She asked him, interrupting him as he told her about the mixed-martial-arts match he planned to attend that weekend.

His thick brows rose in surprise, but the corner of his plush, brown lips lifted.

"I like them just fine, Twyla."

The way her name rolled off of his tongue delighted her each and every time. He made sure to use it whenever they spoke and he always said it right.

"You should try them at the Mexican place around the corner. Maybe today…around one?" Despite having a full hour allotted to her, she didn’t often leave campus for lunch. If she wasn’t bringing leftovers she preferred to grab something from the cafe in the secondary building, but she knew there was no way they could have a real conversation unless they went elsewhere.

It didn't take long for him to realize what she was suggesting, and when he did, that tiny lift of his lips turned into a full-fledged crooked smile that made her heart beat triple time.

He took another step toward her—closer than he'd ever come before—and lowered his voice just slightly.

Quickly, she flicked her gaze over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching them.

Thankfully, the lounge was empty save for the two of them.

"There's nothing I want more than to try those tacos today at one. I'll definitely be there."

Relief sagged her shoulders and she grinned at him in response.

Even though he'd been putting off vibes that reciprocated her own, there was still a small sliver of fear that he might not want to see her outside of work.

That fear was completely obliterated five hours later as they sat in a circular booth in the back of the crowded restaurant with their thighs pressed against one another and her hand clasped in his.

Twyla had arrived first, practically floating as she made the short walk to the Mexican restaurant after handing her students over to the aide who would transport them to the lunch hall and then their art class.

When Arturo arrived, he sat opposite her in the booth then immediately slid across the bench seat until he sat alongside her.

The second that their thighs touched, Twyla's internal temperature soared, and when he reached for her hand, her breathing stuttered.

This moment was significant. It wasn't just lunch with a coworker, or a casual flirtation.

Sitting next to Arturo, in a secluded booth, just the two of them—it felt to Twyla like the beginning of something life-altering.

Feeling the heat of his gaze on the side of her face, Twyla glanced to her left to see him staring at her with a look in his eyes that mirrored her thoughts. She bit her lip.

Did he feel it too? Was he aware of what was happening between them?

Clearing his throat, Arturo broke their stare and grabbed one of the glasses of water that Twyla was glad she’d had the foresight to ask for when she was first seated.

She watched his throat work as he drank, and wondered how the bobbing of an Adam's apple could be so sensual.

When he returned the now-empty glass to the table and noticed her staring at him, he winked.

"You make me very thirsty, Twyla."

Touching her neck, Twyla swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a little parched herself.

“The feeling is mutual. Believe me.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” he murmured, his lips stretched into a smile.

Twyla pursed her lips. “As if you didn’t know.”

He shook his head, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand and causing tingles to radiate throughout her body. “I suspected, but wasn’t completely sure.”

She eyed him for a moment before dropping her gaze to the table when he returned her gape. Those brown irises of his were too open, his gaze too intense for her to hold it for too long.

“Well,” she sighed, “now you know for sure.”

Arturo reached up and lifted her chin, tilting her face toward him. He was so close to her and smelled so good that Twyla swallowed hard against the desire rising up in her.

"I would like to take you on a date.” Arturo announced. “I need to see you outside of work—some place where I can put my hands on you the way I'd like to. Are you free Saturday evening?"

Without even stopping to consider her schedule, Twyla nodded. Whatever—if anything—she had planned would be rescheduled. Time alone with Arturo Benavides was everything she'd wanted for months. She enjoyed their morning moments, but it hadn't been enough.

“I’m free, but what about the event you were telling me about this morning? The MMA match?”

He smiled, and Twyla felt a flush of heat at the pride she saw in his eyes.

“Yes. You remembered.”

“It was just this morning,” she said with a laugh. “I know that I’m quickly approaching middle-aged, but my memory still works.”

At his chuckle, a thrill shuddered through Twyla’s body. Just the sound of his voice did her in.

“You are nowhere near middle-aged, Twyla, but I appreciate that you have remembered a boring detail that I mentioned.”

Shaking her head, Twyla smiled softly. “I always listen when you speak, Arturo.” She was unable not to.

Outside of his sultry accent, every word out of his mouth was valuable to her, giving her more pieces with which to figure out just who he was and decipher why she was unable to curb her attraction to him.

He stared at her silently, eyes boring into hers, making her wonder just what was on his mind as he observed her. After a moment, he nodded.

“The match is in the afternoon, and I am only a spectator this time around. That leaves the entire evening for us.”

“For us,” Twyla repeated, her grin wide. He’d said it with such ease, and it sounded like music to her ears. She hadn’t been an us in quite a while.