Page 14 of Nolan

"When then?" she challenges. "You'll just avoid me again tomorrow."

She's right, and we both know it. I sigh, pulling into my driveway and killing the engine. The house is dark and quiet. Stacia is coming out the front door, and waving at me as she heads back to her house. Belle must not see her, because she doesn't say anything.

"Come on," I say, getting out and coming around to help her. "Let's get you some water and aspirin. You'll thank me in the morning."

Inside, she kicks off her heels in the entryway and pads barefoot to the kitchen, moving with surprising grace for someone who couldn't walk straight five minutes ago. I follow,watching as she pulls a glass from the cabinet and fills it from the tap.

"So domestic," she murmurs, taking a sip. "Playing house."

I lean against the counter, keeping my distance. "It's not playing for me, Annabelle. It's my life. My daughter's life."

She sets the glass down, her eyes meeting mine with startling clarity. "And where do I fit into that life, Nolan? Am I just the nanny? The woman who takes care of your daughter while you avoid the feelings between us?"

"That's not fair," I say, though part of me knows she's right. "You know how important you are to Ashlynn."

"To Ashlynn," she repeats, taking a step closer. "And what about to you?"

My heart hammers against my ribs as she moves closer still, until I can feel the heat of her body through my clothes. "Annabelle," I warn, but it comes out rough, desperate.

"Tell me you don't want this," she whispers, her hands coming to rest against my chest. "Tell me, and I'll leave right now. We can pretend none of this ever happened."

I should say it. I should end this right now before it goes any further. Before I cross a line I can't come back from. But looking down at her, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her lips parted slightly,I can't lie to her. My blood is buzzing, my cock is throbbing, and the way she's licking her lips is wrecking havoc on everything within me.

"I can't tell you that," I admit, my voice barely audible.

It's all the permission she needs. She rises onto her toes and presses her lips to mine, and all my resolve crumbles like sand. This kiss is different from our first, not tentative but hungry, desperate. My hands find her waist, pulling her closer as her arms wrap around my neck. Hitching her up, I pull her legs around my waist and palm her ass.

She tastes like vodka and desire, and I lose myself in it, in her. My back hits the refrigerator as she presses against me, her body molding to mine as if it was made to fit there. I slide my hands up her back, bringing the dress with me as I tangle them in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

A small sound escapes her throat, half gasp, half moan, and it sends heat racing through my veins. I spin us, pressing her against the counter, lifting her onto it in one fluid motion. Her legs wrap around my waist again, pulling me closer, and I trail kisses down her neck, across her collarbone.

"Nolan," she breathes, her head falling back, giving me better access. "I've wanted this for so long."

The confession makes something primal roar to life inside me. I capture her mouth again, pouring everything I've been holding back into the kiss, all the longing, the frustration, the desire I've been fighting since she walked into my house and turned my world upside down.

With trembling fingers, I reach up and hook one in the neckline of her dress, pulling it down to expose the lace of her bra. My eyes lift up to hers, and she nods. A hungry moan escapes my throat as I yank the lace down and then her nipple is mine. Leaning forward, I capture the peaked tip in between my teeth.

Her hands are everywhere, in my hair, under my shirt, her nails scraping lightly against my back, and I'm drowning in sensation, in Annabelle. I lift her again, her legs still wrapped around my waist, and carry her through the house, not breaking the kiss until we reach the living room couch.

I lay her down gently, hovering over her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, the rise and fall of her chest as she catches her breath. A moment of sanity breaks through the haze of desire.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, brushing hair from her face. "You've been drinking. I don't want you to regret,"

She presses a finger to my lips, silencing me. "I've never been more sure of anything," she says, her eyes holding mine with surprising steadiness. "I want you, Nolan. All of you."

I kiss her again, slower this time, trying to convey everything I can't say with words. Her hands push up my shirt,, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin that leave fire in their wake. I find the zipper of her dress, easing it down, revealing inch by inch of smooth skin I've been trying not to imagine.

Grinding my cock into her core, we both moan and groan, trying to get closer to each other.

We lose ourselves in each other, in the exploration of touch and taste, in whispered confessions against heated skin. Time blurs, the world narrowing to this couch, this woman, this moment that feels both inevitable and miraculous.

But as I reach to push her dress from her shoulders, I notice she's not as enthusiastic. I pull back slightly, studying her face, and realize her eyes are struggling to stay open.

"Annabelle?" I murmur, brushing my thumb across her cheek.

She blinks slowly, fighting against the alcohol and exhaustion. "Don't stop," she pleads, but her words slur together, her eyelids drooping.

I smile softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We have time," I assure her, even as disappointment mixes with relief in my chest. This isn't how I want it to happen, with her drunk and me uncertain about her ability to consent. "Go to sleep."

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