Page 118 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“You’re not ready for a benchmark night with the Rickety Rock yoga wanker.”
She abandoned the scenery and studied him. “And why is that?”
A cocky grin spread across his face—the expression he saved for her. “You haven’t completed the second benchmark objective, plum.”
Her smug expression evaporated. “Masturbation,” she whispered.
“You said you hadn’t done it yet, thanks to being so busy.”
She lifted her chin and twisted the tail of the soaked curtain scarf. “I’m sure when I have a moment to myself, it’ll happen.”
He rested his forearm against the beam above her head, caging her in from above. “But you don’t know for sure.”
“Officially, no, I don’t.”
“I know what youwon’tbe thinking of when you find a moment to touch yourself,” he purred.
“And whatwon’tI be thinking of?” she snarled.
“The plonker Zen Dougie.”
The charged air that filled the slice of space between them hummed. A cocoon of rousing exhilaration wrapped around them.
“I could think of him. He’s quite handsome. He’s got nice…chakras.”
Raz shook his head, zeroing in on her. “You won’t be thinking of his chakras because you’ll be fantasizing about mine.”
“That’s not true,” she lied—he knew it from the depth of his soul.
“Do you think Zen Dougie can make you purr and moan those sexy little sounds you make when I thrust inside you? Do you think he’ll find that rhythm that drives you to call out my name and come so hard you can’t remember the name of this funny little town?”
“It’s Rockety Rick. I mean, Rickety Rock,” she blurted, then schooled her features. “You’re a knob-headed plonker if you think that I can’t resist you.”
He bit back a grin and gave her a self-assured little shrug. “You also called me infuriatingly handsome back at the house.”
Fire blazed in her amber eyes. “I had to say something that would kick-start the arrogant beefcake to get you to snap out of it. It was an act of desperation to save the donkeys. Nothing more.”
“You don’t want me to kiss you, then?” he rasped.
Why was he doing this?
That was a stupid question.
The answer was simple.
He couldn’t stop.
Now that he had her to himself, every reason to ignore her melted away, and the cautionary whispers in the back of his mind were instantly silenced by the haze of violet-blue that engulfed them each time he hovered on the brink of losing himself in her.
Teetering on the edge of spellbinding recklessness, he brushed his thumb across her lips. “Do you want to kiss me?” he pressed as she trembled beneath his touch.
He undid her scarf with his free hand and allowed the damp fabric to fall to the ground. Slowly, he drew his fingertips along her collarbone, then rested his palm on her neck. Her pulse thrummed against his skin, betraying her mask of indifference.
“Your heart’s about to beat itself clean out of your chest, plum. Your body wants me to kiss you. It’s begging for it.”
She ran her hand down the side of his torso before slipping it between them and palming his rock-hard cock. “Are you sure it’s not you who wants to kiss me, beefcake? Your body is doing more than just begging.”
He leaned in closer, anticipation driving him mad as her touch removed the last shred of his restraint. She tightened her hold, stroking him through his soaked trousers. Her warm breath against his mouth fed the carnal drive burning within him. Hot, wet, and near delirious with the need to kiss her, he walked the tightrope between knowing he should pull back and the delicious bite of the all-encompassing yearning to claim her mouth with a searing kiss. A kiss that would capture her, body and soul. A kiss that would taste as sweet as a ripe, juicy—
