Page 183 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“I do. The jet had a section in the back that turned into a bedroom.”
He hummed a satisfying little sound. “Was anyone with you in this bedroom on a private jet?”
She continued making lazy circles, slowly working her way down toward the waistband of his track pants. “There sure was. A man.”
“I see,” he breathed. “Did anything exciting happen in the bedroom with this dashing specimen of male perfection?”
Someone woke up cocky as hell.
She smiled against the crook of his neck. “Define exciting?”
“Did you join the Mile High Club?” he replied, twisting a lock of her hair between his fingers.
“I already belong,” she teased with an indifferent shrug.
“You do?” he asked, that possessive growliness coming through.
“I was born in Denver—the Mile High City. I’ve been in the Mile High Club since birth.”
Her beefcake chuckled, and the spike of his domineering alpha energy dropped a few notches. “I was referring to a different Mile High Club, or maybe it should be renamed Mile High Club O.”
Oh, there were Os in this club—the man got that right.
The sweet ache between her thighs was a testament to it.
“It’s funny you bring that up,” she purred. “In this very dream, I got up to some very naughty things.”
“I take it you enjoyed it,” he rasped, and his panty-melter of a voice had her ready to shimmy out of her clothes again. But she wasn’t done teasing him.
“It was…nice.” She couldn’t let her boxer get too full of himself. While this man was most certainly the giver of Os, heowedher some answers.
“Nice,” he echoed with a hint of agitation that made her toes curl.
“Do you want to know what was really amazing about my dream?” she cooed.
“Tell me, plum.”
“The jet had bowls of candy—so many different types of candy. And it was all for me.”
He tensed, and she could picture the indignation on her beefcake’s beautiful face.
“That was thereally amazingpart of your dream?” he grumped. “The bowls of blooming jet candy?”
“I’m not sure if it was the most amazing part, but it was pretty great.”
Hello, free candy.
She might be all about fitness ninety-nine percent of the time, but who could turn down private jet candy?
“Come to think of it,” he said, shifting his body. He pressed a kiss to her neck, then smiled against her skin. “I had a very similar dream.”
“Is that so?”
“You were in it,” he continued.
“Was I? And what about the candy? Was it there, too?” she teased.
“It was. In my dream, I lined up Gummy Bears between your breasts, devoured them, and then I devoured you.”
