Page 86 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
Her touching herself was one thing. The image of this woman spread out on a bed with her hand between her thighs, working her sweet spot, had him rock-hard in a bloody second. But the thought of her with another man was a different story. He shouldn’t care what or who she did in her spare time. She wasn’t his, and she never could be. But that didn’t stop his jaw from clenching as he gnashed his teeth together. They’d be dust if he didn’t get the notion of Libby Lamb screwing some idiot bloke out of his head.
She huffed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I haven’t attempted any of the benchmark activities. I haven’t had time.”
“Busy with your nanny life?” he bit out, keeping his emotions in check. He couldn’t let on how bloody relieved he was that she hadn’t been with anyone else but him.
He held her gaze as the blush on her cheeks intensified. He’d hit a nerve.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she answered, gathering more of his shirt into her fist. She jerked his head down to look her straight in the eyes.
Crikey, she was strong!
“I’ve been extremely busy caring for your son, and I’ve loved every minute of it. I don’t think you’ve noticed, but you have an amazing kid—a kind and intelligent soul. And you can’t spare a second for him. Do you know how much he wants to be like you?”
The fire in his eyes matched hers.
“Yeah, I do,” he rasped, the words tasting of ash and iron.
“And he misses his mother. He thinks he makes you sad because he reminds you of Meredith.”
Every muscle in his body tensed.
She’d gone there.
He figured Sebastian would have mentioned his mum. The boy carried that picture of her in the watch everywhere he went. But he didn’t have the emotional capacity to discuss his wife—not with Libby and not with the fight of his life looming over his shoulder. A fight he had to win for Meredith.
“Don’t bring her up,” he growled. This was the voice he used in the ring when he wanted to instill a shit ton of fear into his opponent. It worked every time, except bloody now.
Libby lifted her smug little chin. “It’s your son’s mother’s name. You can’t banish the memory of her. It’s not your call.”
He leaned in and could feel her breath against his neck. “You want to know about Meredith?” he dared—was he challenging her or himself? Christ, he didn’t know.
She held his gaze. With her lips pressed into a hard line, she gave him space to talk.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I loved her. She believed in me. We came from nothing. She worked two jobs so I could train full time with Augie. I owe her this win. It’s an affront to her if I fail.” He glanced away. He should button up his gob and shut the hell up. He had to hold back the emotions he’d kept locked inside.
“Erasmus,” she whispered, and her voice, her angelic voice, opened the floodgates to his heart.
“I’ve only ever been good at one thing, plum. That’s putting on gloves and knocking men down.” He steadied himself because he couldn’t stop if his life depended on it. He exhaled a slow breath. “I’m fighting for Meredith. I do it so Sebastian can have a better life. That’s what Mere and I wanted for him.”
Yeah, he’d dropped one hell of a truth bomb, and with the emotional turmoil in the air near palpable, he’d expected that to be the end of it. That’s what she wanted, right? A sad, pathetic excuse to explain his failings? A little insight into his cracked psyche. But her expression didn’t soften. No, the fury in her eyes burned brighter.
“You’re hiding behind that excuse. That’s not why you’re fighting. Do you think no one can see behind that smug beefcake exterior? News flash, I can.”
The breath caught in his throat. Could she see everything? He’d wondered the same thing when she’d charged into Aug’s gym a few months ago. And he knew the bloody answer. Those damn eyes saw into his soul. But he wasn’t about to cop to it, and he sure didn’t need her take on why she believed he fought. He couldn’t budge, and he couldn’t waver—too much was at stake.
What would he do if he were in the ring, knowing that his opponent was about to steal the advantage?
He’d turn the bloody tables.
“Speaking of excuses,” he snarled. “You’ve got some nerve to call me out.”
Confusion marred her fierce expression. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve walled your heart off, Libby Lamb. Somebody hurt you. That’s why you’ve written off love and relationships. You’re no different from me. No, that’s not right. You’re worse.”
Her bottom lip trembled, just slightly, but he caught it. It was her tell.
“Worse?” she shot back. “You don’t know anything about me.”
