Page 73 of Marrying the Nanny

Her eyes drifted shut as their mouths touched.

A spark, like static electricity, singed her lips, making her jolt. His breath caught, but he only wrapped his arms more securely around her and settled his mouth more firmly on hers.

He tasted of wine. That was her first and only thought as she sank into the wonder of their kiss. Wine and salt and confidence. Like a man who knew how to lead in a dance, drawing her with him in the push-pull to the beat of her heart thumping harder and faster in her chest. Pulling her out of reality into a strange, sensual world.

She relaxed, distantly aware of the hard plane of his chest squashing her breasts, the movement of his hands across her back. His hair was soft and spiky between her fingers as she drifted her touch across the back of his head, but she was more caught up in the swirls and eddies of sensual heat moving through her, rippling outward in waves from all the places he touched.

Somehow her tongue went searching for his. They struck like swords with a clang of lust that drove deep into her center, pushing a moan of hungry pleasure into her throat.

Shocked by her own response, she pulled away from the kiss, staying in his arms, but torn between a bereft need to kiss him again and embarrassment at making noises of enjoyment. That wasn’t her at all.

“Your eggs are getting cold.” Her voice rasped.

“I don’t care.”

He kissed her again, briefly. Once. Twice. Soft, wet bites while the glitter in his eyes mesmerized, inviting her back into the fire. She knew in her heart it was dangerous, but followed him anyway, letting her eyelids drift down.

This time their kiss went deeper. It engulfed her. She tilted her head, mouth fully open to accept the passionate dominance of his and the rake of his lips as he feasted on her. It was earthy and glorious and made her want to melt to the floor beneath him. Their tongues danced and the edgy heat within her grew into greed. She roamed her hands over his shoulders and across his ribs, under his arm to twine around his waist and stroke his back. She longed to touch him everywhere and wasn’t able to get close enough. She wanted to be under his clothes and inside his skin.

He shifted his legs and drew her closer, hands cruising to her butt where he made circles and squeezed. He was hard. She could feel his erection against her belly and it was wickedly satisfying. Inciting. She pressed closer, wriggling with pleasure, teasing him as she rubbed her breasts on his chest, teasing herself. All of her was burning with excitement. She made another involuntary noise that was joy and plea and surrender.

Shocked afresh at the way she was reacting, she dragged her mouth away from his, tucked her forehead against his hard shoulder and tried to catch her breath.

His heart was pounding beneath her hand, startling her with the power of its slam. It was reassuring, but terrifying. She had never felt like this with anyone. It was new and thrilling, but scary. She felt vulnerable. Defenseless.

His hands dragged themselves to the back of her waist. He lightly caressed her lower back as he continued to cradle her against him. After a moment, he swallowed and spoke in a tone that was smoky and sexy, nearly undoing her all over again.

“If that was rehearsal, I can’t wait for opening night.”

She flashed a shaky smile up at him without meeting his gaze and tried to step away. “You should eat.”

He caught at her, keeping her before him until she looked up into his concerned expression. “No? I thought that was pretty damned promising. You didn’t enjoy it?”

“I did.” Her hands wanted to go to his chest, but she was afraid to touch him again. She’d fall back into the abyss. “Maybe a little too much. I need time to process.”

He let his hands loosen on her arms, stroking lightly as he let her step back.

She was regretful as soon as his touch dropped away. She wanted to go back into his arms, but he was turning away to reach for a plate, giving her the space she’d asked for.

“For what it’s worth,” he said as he moved the eggs from the pan. “You kind of blew my mind.”

“You, too,” she muttered, hugging herself. “I’m thinking of going for a bath.”

He reacted exactly as she hoped. He tipped back his head and laughed.

*

Reid had a restless night. He slept downstairs thinking he would be less tempted to cross through the bathroom to Emma’s room. It didn’t work. He spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was tossing and turning above him.

That ex of hers had a lot to answer for, grinding her self-esteem into the dust when she was so sensitive and earnest and passionate. He tried not to think about their kiss, but it followed him into his dreams, making him hard.

Storm’s cries snapped him awake twice. She was becoming a restless sleeper and kept winding up with a leg dangling from between the rungs of her crib or her head stuffed into a corner.

He settled her, draped a light blanket over her, and crept away, moving silently enough to hear Emma if she stirred.

He didn’t see her until morning. She got to Storm first and met him in the kitchen where she avoided his gaze. She didn’t exactly look well rested, either, stifling a yawn as she brought the formula out of the cupboard.

He took Storm and the baby scolded him with a loud cry, holding out an arm for Emma, who was making her bottle.

---