Page 57 of The Nanny and the Hothead
It was her.
Charlotte walked past him, then ran her hand down one of the tent poles. And heaven help him, his tent pole took notice.
“You went to the trouble to put up the tent. We should go inside once,” she finished, unzipping the opening, then crawling inside.
He stared at the tent as his pulse kicked up.
He shouldn’t go in. He should let her sit there for a minute to get her fill of tent camping. Then he’d take the thing down and get some shut-eye—alone on the sleeper bed across from Oscar.
Yes, that’s exactly what he should do.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t! He bent down and entered the snug, enclosed space.
“This is cozy,” she remarked, stretching out her legs and leaning back onto her elbows. The dim outdoor light on the camper van allowed him to see the dark outline of her body. But that was enough to keep his heart thumping. The muscles in his chest tightened as he drank in the curves of her breasts and the lines of her hips.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that Oscar and I laughed about the skunk. You seemed pretty freaked out.”
Why the hell did he apologize? He didn’t do that. The nearness of the nanny scrambled his brain.
She sat up, and their arms brushed as she maneuvered her body to sit in front of him. “You don’t have to apologize. It was worth it.”
The darkness masked her features, but that didn’t stop him from searching her face. “What do you mean by that?”
She touched his cheek, then slid her index finger to the corner of his mouth. And like the last time, his skin tingled beneath her touch.
“I got to see you smile, Mitch. I’ve never seen one of those on your face. You should do it more. It suits you.”
“It’s been a long time since I had anything to smile about,” he admitted, the broken words slipping past his tongue. The darkness made it easy, and the words came effortlessly. He took her hand in his and slid her palm against his lips, listening as she inhaled an audible breath. With his resolve dwindling by the second, he pressed a kiss to her hand. Her skin was soft, so soft. She tensed, but she didn’t pull away. Drunk on her scent and the frenzy of heat surging through his body, he parted his lips and licked a hot line from her palm to her wrist. And as he’d imagined, she tasted like strawberries and sunshine. No, not as he’d imagined. It was better. He’d sampled some of the best dishes ever created. Hell, he’d cooked most of them. But nothing could have prepared him for this. It was as if he’d found himself in the Garden of Eden and had taken the first bite of forbidden fruit.
And he wanted more, and he wanted it now!
He gathered her onto his lap and held her flush against him. Nothing had felt so right in ages. Again, he waited for her to protest. But she didn’t. Quite the opposite happened. Silently, she tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. With the sound of their heated breaths, their bodies molded into place as if they’d done this a million times before. He wrapped his arms around her, cementing their bodies together. His hard lines met her soft curves as she rocked her hips in a deliciously slow, rhythmic song. And he heard it, too. It wasn’t exactly music. It was energy. They’d tapped into the buzz that pulsed around them, through them, and inside of them.
The steady rock of their bodies and the sensual friction between them had him breathing hard as he gripped her hips, setting the pace that had his cock weeping. Still moving to their silent song, she cupped his face in her hands. “I want to try something,” she whispered, her breath warm against his lips.
He couldn’t help it. He smiled.
“There it is. How does that feel?” she asked, touching the corners of his mouth.
How did it feel?
It felt like a goddamned exorcism. It was like tearing off the locks and chains he’d fashioned around his heart and grinding the iron shackles to dust.
“Let me show you,” he answered, erasing the space between them. His lips met hers, and he devoured her softness as the chaos in his life dissolved. His world narrowed to include this moment in this tent with this woman. Her touch and her scent took center stage as the sensations washed over him. His clawing thoughts silenced until all that existed was Charlotte and the sweetness of her kisses. Their tongues met in a slow burn of desire, tasting and caressing as their hands roamed freely in the darkness. Without giving it a second thought, he flipped her onto her back. He needed complete and total access to every part of her.
Her skirt bunched around her waist as he settled himself between her thighs. She pulled at his shirt, untucking it. Her nimble hands skimmed across his stomach. She traced the ridges of his abdominal muscles before sliding her hands south and undoing the top button on his pants.
She wanted this, too.
He cupped her face in his hand. Time seemed to stand still while moving at light speed. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, slowing himself down. “Charlotte, is this okay?” He could barely get the words out.
“Yes,” she breathed, wrapping her legs around him.
Their bodies moved together in a frenzied symphony of hands and lips and teeth and thrusts. Jesus! Every muscle in his body vibrated in anticipation. He was never a fan of dry humping. But the heat sparking between them as they made out like this was their only chance at human contact before the world ended was better than any sex he’d ever had. He tasted the delicate skin beneath her earlobe. “Do we need—”
She released a dirty little moan. “I’m on the pill,” she finished, again reading his mind. A good thing because he seemed to have no control over his.
He undid his pants and shrugged them down far enough to free his cock. He studied the woman beneath him. He couldn’t see her face, but he saw her. Like one of Oscar’s Polaroids, her image and her beauty were locked in his mind. Still, it was like watching someone else’s life play out before his eyes—like he was an imposter, a voyeur.
