Page 21 of Puck Your Nanny

"Good." Her smile widens at him. "He's getting so strong. Look at him holding his head up."

I move closer, crouching down beside them. William gurgles, kicking his legs. A genuine smile tugs at my lips. "Yeah, he is. Good job, little man."

The scent is stronger here, closer to Daisy. That floral aroma. It's intoxicating. The scent is stronger here, wrapping around me, coaxing something deep inside me to pay attention. It’s too much. I straighten, forcing myself to take a step back, to put some distance between us before my thoughts stray further.

My Alpha brain settles a bit, knowing I'm home. She's protected, and she's okay, so I can stop coming up with horrible scenarios. Why is this happening at all? She’s a Beta. She has to be. The agency confirmed it. And yet, her scent calls to me like how I imagine it would for a compatible omega.

Even when I first met her, there was nothing to her scent. Now, this floral aroma shows up.Could she have lied and used pheromone suppressants to weasel her way into this job?Possible, but those usually add a metallic odor to the omegas who use them.

Could she be a late-presenting Omega? Why now?Twenty-four is the oldest I’ve ever heard of someone presenting, she's older than that.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. "I'm going to grab some water. Long day." I back away, towards the door, feeling the need to put some more space between us, to get my head straight.

I bolt downstairs, taking the steps fast, needing space, needing air, needing anything to clear my head. I need water and maybe some food. Something to distract me from this confusion. Opening the fridge, I grab a bottle and press it to my forehead, letting out a sigh. I’ve felt unhinged since the moment I woke up, and the sensation has only intensified as the day drags on.

Cracking it open, I down some of my water. I'm home now, so the thoughts about her should calm down. My inner alpha needs to come to terns that she's a beta, and not only that, she's working for us. Nate and Peter would kill me if I ever looked at her with a hint of desire. Betas can’t take Alpha knots.It wouldn’t work. It would be a disaster—no matter how much some primal part of me wants to believe otherwise.

Every muscle in my back stiffens as her footsteps come down the stairs and toward the kitchen. A moment later, she steps into view, cradling William against her chest.

I clear my throat. "Everything okay?"

"Fine." There's a slight tremor in her voice. "We can only do tummy time for a few minutes every time he's up during the day. So now it's time for his feeding and see if he's sleepy."

My gaze lingers on her as she brushes past. A light flush colors her cheeks and neck, and a glance at her eyes tells me they're dilated. All signs of heat. But she seems composed. Too composed for an Omega in heat.

"Are you feeling okay?" The question slips out.

She turns her head to meet my eyes briefly, then looks away, a frown creasing her forehead. "Fine. Just a little tired. It's been a long day."

An Omega in heat wouldn’t be able to hide it like this. They wouldn’t be standing there, moving calmly, speaking like everything is fine. I must be wrong. I have to be.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus on something, anything, other than the way her presence is affecting me. "I grabbed some water." I hold up the bottle awkwardly and I want to have the floor open up.Why did I say that?

Daisy nods, her attention focused on preparing William's bottle. "It's good to stay hydrated after a hard practice."

I can’t look away. Every movement pulls me in—the gentle sway of her hips, the effortless way she moves, the quiet care in every action as she steps up to the bottle-making station Nate set up the night William arrived. It makes the perfect warm bottle every time. Like a Keurig for babies.

She tilts her head to the side and her light blonde hair falls away, exposing the nape of her neck. My dick perks up atthe sight of it and I have to shift from foot to foot, adjusting myself. Fuck, I hope she doesn't glance this way, or she's going to see how I'm staring at her like a man who hasn't gotten laid in a while. It's true, I haven't, but random omega puck bunny hookups aren't doing it for me anymore.

"I, uh…" I stammer, my voice rougher than usual. I clear my throat. "I'm going to take a shower. Be back down later. Come and get me, though, if you need anything."

I don't wait for a response, don't even give her a chance to look up at me. I don’t look back. My feet carry me up the stairs two at a time, my body moving on instinct, desperate for the privacy of my room. Maybe the cold water will snap me out of this. Maybe it won’t. But I need to try before I lose my damn mind.

I reach my bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it. I strip off my clothes, tossing them onto the floor, and step into the shower, turning the water on full blast, as cold as it will go.

The icy spray hits my skin, a welcome shock to my overheated system. I stand there with my head bowed, letting the water wash over me, willing the unwanted arousal, confusing thoughts, and impossible possibilities to wash away.

But even the cold water can't erase Daisy from my mind. Her soft smile, those bright eyes, the gentle curve of her body—they're burned into my thoughts. The delicate lines of her neck, the subtle curves beneath her shirt. Everything about her is tormenting me.

I grit my teeth and clench my fists, feeling insane for even considering this. She's the nanny, a Beta. It shouldn't be happening. Logic has abandoned me, replaced entirely by primal need.

I tilt my face upward, allowing the water to stream down my face and chest. It doesn't help. If anything, the contrast between the cold water and my burning skin only intensifies theache. I brace myself against the tile wall, struggling against the inevitable, before my hand finally moves downward. I hesitate briefly, my fingers hover over my dick.

With a groan, I finally give in. My hand wraps around my shaft, my palm warm compared to the cold water still pouring over me. A shudder races through my body, desperate for any relief from the relentless need that surges through me. The first stroke, slick and firm, sends pleasure jolting through me. I squeeze harder, setting a rhythm, hips jerking into my fist.

Eyes closed tightly, I lean into the wall for support as my hand moves faster, gripping harder, chasing the elusive climax that seems just out of reach. Images of Daisy flood my mind, each one more vivid than the last. Her soft curves, the gentle sway of her hips, the floral scent that clings to her and drives me insane with its potency. My movements become frantic, desperate, chasing a release that's close yet somehow unreachable.

Pleasure builds sharply, my muscles tense, and I gasp for breath. The pressure tightens, straining towards release. I stroke harder, rougher, pushing myself closer to that edge, driven by desperation rather than satisfaction. My breath comes in rapid pants, but the climax remains elusive.

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