Page 50 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
“She wanted to make you smile.” Tessa’s voice softens. “I did too.”
That lands hard. I meet her eyes, and all the noise in my head stills.
“You did,” I tell her quietly.
The corners of her mouth lift, just a little. “Good.”
The light catches the faint icing streak on her cheek from the cake earlier, and before I can stop myself, my hand rises to brush it away. My thumb grazes her skin. She inhales sharply, not pulling back.
I should step away. I don’t.
Instead, I let my fingers linger along her jaw, feeling the tremor in her breath.
“Jace,” she whispers, but it’s not a warning.
“Tessa.” It’s the only word I can manage.
The moment stretches, filled with quiet and heartbeat. The kind of silence that hums with too much meaning. I lean in just enough for her scent to find me: vanilla, soap, the faint smoke from the candles.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I say, voice low.
“I wanted to,” she replies, barely audible. “You deserve to be celebrated, even when you act like you don’t.”
That cracks something in me. Because she means it. Because she sees right through the walls I keep building.
My thumb slides from her jaw to her lower lip, a small, dangerous movement. She doesn’t flinch. Her eyes darken, fixed on mine.
“I’ve missed this,” I admit.
“Me too,” she breathes.
It’s enough to undo every reason I’ve been holding back.
I step in, close the distance. Her breath catches, her body still for a second before she tilts her chin up, waiting. My hand finds the back of her neck, gentle, grounding.
The space between us dissolves, heat rising, air tightening, gravity pulling us closer. I close the gap, crushing my mouth to hers. Her lips are soft and demanding, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I moan low against her mouth, tastingher tongue as she slides her hands down my chest, fingers grazing over the waistband of my jeans.
I grow harder against my zipper. She whines against me, hips grinding forward, and I groan, lifting her slightly to press her against the counter. The first button of her shirt pops open under my fingers, and I trace her skin with my lips, down her neck, across her collarbone, tasting her, claiming her in little bites.
“Jace…” she breathes, voice ragged, lips brushing mine. “I need you…”
I grin and peck her lips before picking her up and carrying her to the living room. I set her down on the couch, pull her to the edge, and kneel on the floor in front of her. I feel a muscle pop and strain, but I ignore it and focus on the task at hand.
I do quick work of undoing her pants, pulling them down together with her underwear, dropping them next to me. Lifting her legs to the edge of the couch, I dive in immediately, my lips covering her pussy, sucking her into my mouth. I let go of her legs and use my fingers to part her vulva, exposing her clit and gushing entrance.
“Fuck, smells delicious,” I groan, running my nose over her pubic hair.
“Jace,” she whimpers, digging her nails into my scalp.
Licking a straight line through her slit, my tongue laps up the juices. “Tastes even better.”
I use the tip of my tongue to draw slow, torturous circles on her, loving how she shakes, her body convulsing under me. This is what I’ve been denying myself for weeks, and I won’t stop. I can’t stop.
Adding my fingers to the mix, I use my thumb to rub her clit while fucking her with my tongue. She gasps when I replace my tongue with two of my fingers.
“Mmh, fuck,” she groans when I add a third finger. “Jace, please,” she begs when I curl my fingers inside her, stroking that tender spot inside her.
“I know, baby, I know,” I soothe, blowing onto her.
