Page 101 of Marrying the Nanny

She set the coffee on the edge of the desk then came around to his space behind it. She hitched her hip next to the blotter.

Along with the flood of exhilaration and the earthier reaction behind his fly, something tender rose in him as she posed so flirtatiously before him. A few short weeks ago, she had worried she was bad at sex. Now she was ready, willing, and hell yes, more than capable of bringing him to a fine point with a coy glance.

Her power over him was absolutely terrifying.

“Something on your mind, Em?” He tried like hell to be cool, but his hand found its way to her knee. How could he resist caressing her creamy skin? Everything in him wanted to seek the heat higher up. “What he lacks in dinners he surely makes up for with dessert?”

He wanted to make a meal out of her right now. He was hard, mouth watering as he caught the scent of her—sunshine and salt air, hints of coconut and almonds.

He was losing the battle of control over himself and couldn’t. Couldn’t.

But here he was, lizard brain taking over—which wasn’t something he ever allowed to happen. He forced himself to remove his hand.

Emma leaned forward, punching his breath out of him as the top of her dress gaped. “Maybe one of these days she ought to quit being so selfish and deliver dessert of her own,” she said suggestively.

He bit his tongue. Tried to keep his brain from exploding. He skipped his gaze to the blinds he had closed against the beating sun, then to the door. Sex at work was strictly a fantasy on the playlist.

“I locked it,” she said in that throaty voice.

Don’t. It wasn’t the impropriety, which was bad enough. It was the giving in to impulse. To Emma. To this thing between them that would obliterate him if he let it.

He didn’t want to fight it, though. That was the bald truth. Not just the sex act, either. Yes, he wanted sex. All the time. He was a healthy man with a healthy libido, and they were a volatile, compelling combo.

But there was something in making love with Emma that went beyond the physical. He feared they were actually making love. All his alarm bells against letting anyone too close jangled within him.

But Emma slid off the desk and nudged his rolling chair back enough that she could sink to the floor between his knees. Fantasy crashed into reality as she released his fly.

He let it happen. He was hard, so hard he ached. But she soothed him. Took him in her mouth the way she had a couple of times when she’d wanted to play and experiment, but today she meant it. She was determined to destroy him and very nearly did.

*

“I can’t believe you did that to me,” Reid murmured against her trembling lips, kissing her once more as he withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt.

Emma couldn’t believe he’d just done that to her. Reid was all about equal opportunity, though, and she’d been really aroused after he so clearly enjoyed what she had done to him. He’d pulled her into his lap and muffled her moans with a kiss as he shot her into the stars.

She nearly wept at losing his touch while latent pulses left her tingling all over. She curled into him, blissful and breathless, heart still thudding.

“I didn’t mean for it to turn into this. I was thinking about you, though.” She nuzzled her mouth against his neck. “I wanted you to know I appreciate you.”

It was a lame sentiment compared to what had burst to life inside her, impelling her to see him, to touch him and thrill him.

With her arm around his neck and their clothing askew and the afterglow lowering her defenses, she whispered, “I love you.”

She felt the stillness settle over him. The resistance. The rejection.

She stopped breathing. The press of his mouth to her forehead was the kind of there-there kiss he might offer Storm when she bit her own finger.

“You know I care about you,” he said in a voice so gentle it killed her.

Oh God. She stared at his shirt pocket, unable to look into his eyes. It didn’t matter what she saw there, it wouldn’t be enough. She shouldn’t have said anything. She was so stupid! She tried to get off his lap.

His arms kept her in place.

“This is good, Em. Better than anything I ever imagined I could have.”

“Me, too.” It was true. She hadn’t expected to meet anyone who made her heart go pitty-pat or her hormones do somersaults. “I didn’t think I could love—”

She stopped herself from saying again. This was so much bigger and deeper and more real than anything she’d ever felt for anyone, especially her useless ex.

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