Page 23 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
“Fuck, Flora,” he groaned, and then– “Fuck,” he swore again, the warmth of him gone.
I exhaled through parted lips, opening my eyes to see he’d turned away. His hands were laced together behind his head, the muscles of his back flexing. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He turned to face me, his expression pained. “That was… out of line. Please,” he said, “please–”
“Mr. Walker,” I said, and his grimace deepened. “No,I’msorry–” He shook his head, and we were both silent for a moment.
“You should go,” he said.
I nodded.
“It’s late. Dark. I’ll call my driver for you.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“And…” he added, covering his face with one large hand, rubbing over his masculine features. “I’m sorry, but–” His eyes were closed when he removed his hand, and the pained expression was back.
My heart dropped out of my body.I was about to be fired.I didn’t think–
“I…” He sighed. “Ireallyneed a nanny. I know it isn’t fair for me to ask you to stay, not if I’m going to act like this, but…”
I wasn’t fired.
“I’ll stay,” I said instantly. “It’s my fault, too.” He shook his head, but I continued. “And for Maddie.”
“For Maddie,” he said, with a single sad laugh. “Who loves you.”
* * *
The man who took me home was familiar: he was the same driver who had picked Ryan and me up from the book launch, when I was his one-night stand. He nodded politely at me when I slunk into the backseat and again when I gave him my address, but didn’t say anything to suggest he remembered me. The car smelled like leather and Ryan’s cologne.
“Goodnight, miss,” he muttered after rolling to a stop outside my building, and I returned the sentiment before escaping into my apartment. I dumped my bag on my kitchen counter–laminate–thinking of the way Ryan had stared at me, eyes dark, over his marble one. I washed my face, remembering how he’d scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a deep, rumbling breath. I slipped between my sheets, wondering if he was doing the same.
If he was thinking of me.
And I thought I knew, now, that he was.
You’re pretty good at accounting, I’d said, and he’d answered,you like the steamy ones.We both remembered–or was it that neither of us could forget?
Nothing could happen.
I was just the nanny.
But with his forearms flexing as he gripped the countertop hard enough to crack stone and his eyes burning my skin, it was so hard to remember that I wasn’t the woman he took home with him that first night.
That he wasn’t the man who’d made me come undone.
I’ll take care of you.
My hand slipped under my sleep shirt, smoothing over my stomach, up to the underside of one breast, then over my nipple. I took a shaky breath. Ryan’s mouth had been hotter, wetter, when he licked my skin, his teeth a sharper sting than what I could accomplish with my fingers as I pinched myself until my nipple was hard and sensitive. My other hand dragged over my stomach, down into my underwear. I was already wet–I had been since our conversation in the kitchen–and my fingers slipped over silky, swollen skin. It wouldn’t take long, not with the way I’d been on edge all evening and the memory of his lips, so close to mine, behind my eyelids. I moved my fingers over my clit without any finesse, pressing down hard, chasing the feeling, wanting the release–
I moaned, alone in my quiet bedroom, as it crashed over me. I clenched my legs together over my hand and took a deep, ragged breath, eyes squeezed tight.God, he was myboss. I couldn’t be thinking of him as I touched myself. It wasn’t right.
But still.
As I fell asleep, the release leaving my body exhausted and limp, I wondered if he’d done the same.
* * *
Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.
