Page 60 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
Now she got why people called him the Lion.
This shouldn’t upset him. It was just sex, right? Or maybe she simply sounded like a maniac. She honestly couldn’t tell. With Erasmus Cress cradling her face in his strong, warm hands, it was hard to focus on anything. Using the pad of his thumb, he caressed her jawline, and the contact sent a delicious buzz through her body that settled between her thighs.
“I didn’t understand half of what you said, plum. But here’s what I know. Something is going on between us. I felt it when you came into the gym all those days ago and asked me to keep it down.”
“That was the shift. That’s when my chi went crazy,” she whispered.
“And all of a sudden, the air thrummed with electricity—all blue and violet, like what happened tonight,” Raz answered.
He might be a big, beefy jock. Still, when Erasmus Cress dropped the arrogant act and referenced auras, he was utterly irresistible.
“Okay, we’ll follow the curriculum. And don’t worry,” she continued, “I can promise that this experiment won’t interfere with my ability to be your son’s nanny or your spiritual advisor. I take my responsibilities seriously. And when I commit to something, when I make a promise, I see it through.” Her voice quivered as flashes of her past tried to invade her mind, but she regained control. “We’re talking about purely physical acts. No emotions involved.”
She remained stock-still as she waited for the man to reply. With the washing machine humming in the background and the air around them on the brink of igniting, neither said a word as he devoured her with his gaze. The intensity of this man could power the city for days. And as much as she disliked boxing, Raz’s ability to fiercely focus must serve him well in the ring. It certainly had her spellbound.
He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, then turned her head to the side. Leaning in, his lips skimmed the shell of her ear. “I’m going to take a step back, plum, and then, right here, right now, you’re going to strip for me.”
Strip…for Erasmus Cress…in a fancy laundry room?
And he wanted to get down to business now?
This man didn’t mess around.
Raz made good on his word and moved away from her. And then, as if she were caught in a dream, she kicked off her sneakers, peeled her white yoga capris from her body, then slipped the shimmering sports bra over her head and let it fall to the floor. She had no issues with nudity. The human body held the spirit. It was a vessel to be revered. But when she glanced down at her nude-colored underwear, which,oh no, bordered on granny panties, she felt her cheeks heat. Of all the days to go beige, this wasn’t one of them. In her defense, when she woke up this morning, doing a striptease for Raz in his apartment-sized laundry room was the last place she’d expected to end her day.
She shifted her stance. “Pretty boring in the underwear department, but there aren’t many options with white yoga pants,” she added with an insanely awkward flick of her wrist.
That’s the first thing she says after the man commands her to disrobe?
What was she doing—schooling him on the art of wearing white?
But the glimmer in Raz’s eyes didn’t channel disappointment or the desire to discuss panty lines. Not breaking eye contact, he ran his tongue across his top lip. “I’d imagined what was under that red jumper. But this…you…you’re bloody perfect. Nothing on that body could be considered boring.”
He’d thought about her naked.
She shouldn’t like that—not at all. But her body couldn’t lie. Her nipples tightened into pink pearls as she allowed her hungry gaze to rove over him.
“Your turn,” she directed, then gestured to his boxing shorts.
A dirty smirk pinched his lips. “You want me naked, plum?”
“It’s for purely academic reasons.”
“Is that so?” he queried.
“It could assist in inducing arousal,” she answered with another ridiculous wrist flick. She’d come down with carpal tunnel if she kept this up.
Raz’s cocky smirk, which was, surprisingly, starting to grow on her, stretched into a dirty grin as he took off his shoes, then removed his shorts and his boxer briefs. The man stood, towering over her, and her jaw dropped. Erasmus Cress possessed what could only be described as one magnificent cock. Rock-hard, the man was glorious—a buck-naked gladiator with great hair to boot.
She’d had a decent amount of sex in her life. But no man had ever exuded this kind of magnetic masculinity before. If she knew anything about sculpting, she’d spend her last penny on clay and recreate this man’s appendage for humanity to appreciate. However, there was no way she would admit this to him.
Play it cool! This is an academic exercise. Science, think about science.
“From my vantage point, you appear to possess adequate equipment for our experiment,” she observed, like an idiot, gawking at his manhood.
Thirsty much, Libby Lamb?
“And what about you?” he asked in a low, sexy rumble. “Don’t I get to assess your equipment?”
