Page 66 of The Nanny Tenure (Single Dads Club)

His eyes softened. “We’ll miss you too.”

He shifted closer by a hair’s breadth, and I was hyperaware that I was in sweats while he was still in his work clothes, having stayed late at school for some meeting. My hair was piled up on the top of my head, and I didn’t have a bra on underneath my sweatshirt that readThis girl runs on musicals and tealike the theater nerd I was. But he stared at me like I was the best thing on earth.

And damn, did I want to be.

Not sure how to bring up what had happened between Jordan and me, then Jordan and Liam,and thenLiam and me, I faced forward, concentrating on the movie.

Next to me, he scooted over a few inches, his knee almost touching mine. “What’re we watching?”

“My favorite.Cinderella.”

“This isn’tCinderella.”

I snorted. “It is according to Rodgers and Hammerstein.”

“Is that George fromSeinfeld?”

“Yep. Jason Alexander.”

“He sings?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve…” He looked to me then back to the TV like his mind was blown. “I’ve never seen this.”

“No? It’s the best movie musical ever made.”

He blew out a breath, tucking his chin in. “Bold statement.”

I laughed. “What do you know about movie musicals?”

“Not much, but that seems like a real bold statement to make.”

I counted off the names on my hands. “It’s got Whitney, Brandy, Bernadette. It’s got the best music from Rodgers and Hammerstein, and,” I said, circling my hands at the television, encompassing everything about the movie, “look at those colors! It’s so vibrant.”

“You could write a thesis on this, huh?”

“Sorry to say, it’d probably be more entertaining than yours, Professor.”

He quirked a smile in my direction. “Oh yeah. For sure.”

I leaned toward the center of the couch, my head near his shoulder, and we both watched the movie in silence for a while. Until Brandy, as Cinderella, arrived at the ball, captivating the prince. Then Liam tilted his head down, and I tipped my head up, bringing us even closer together.

He closed his thumb and forefinger around a lock of loose hair at my temple and tucked it behind my ear before skimming his fingers down my jaw. And then we were kissing.

For a moment, neither of us moved, our lips merely touching as if waiting to see who would give in first. I opened my mouth, letting out a breath, and he pressed the advantage, gently angling my head back, the heat of his body invading my space. He curved his hand around my cheek, and I met his lips once, twice, three more times before his tongue slid along the seam of my mouth. I didn’t hesitate to meet him there too, indulging in the feel of his fingers raking into my hair, messing up the already messy style.

When I pushed up onto my knees, he pulled back, blinking at me. Then he licked his lips and released his hold on me. “I…I’m sorry.”

Because my first instinct was always to apologize, I nodded and swallowed thickly, even as my hands curled into his shirt. “Me too.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I was the one who kissed you.”

I shook my head. “No, I kissed you, and I’m?—”

He silenced me with another kiss, this one more aggressive than the last, like he couldn’t get enough of me. I wrapped my arm around his neck, digging my fingers into his hair, licking into his mouth, tasting the wild need that matched my own.

The tug of his lips on mine softened, his words barely audible. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

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