Page 33 of Curvy Nanny for the Nerd

I fled the flesh and blood man but he invaded my dreams and turned them into fantasies of forever.

“Flowers almost as vibrant and lively as you. Yours, Brady Winsome.”

I held the card to my chest as a giant smile bloomed on my face. He’d given me his last name. It wasn’t everything, but it was something. He was trying and that’s what mattered.

Is he trying, though?My brain just wouldn’t quit, and reminded me that it was just a name, that Brady was giving me what I wanted but in such an insignificant way.

It was true, he was trying, but Lucy’s words rang in my head about rich men being different. Brady was definitely different if he’d never had a woman who just wanted him for him, without the money and whatever status he held in society. That was sad, and he deserved so much more than that.

So I accepted the sweet gesture, smiling as I took my time undressing and stepping into a hot shower where thoughts of Brady invaded my mind. Whatever was happening between us had the potential to be incredibly amazing, but history also told me it could devastate me, and I knew I wasn’t prepared for that.

The truth was, I wasn’t at all prepared for Brady. Most of the fathers I work for—single or married—I simply tolerated as much as one tolerates any unlikable co-worker. I ignored their looks and suggestive comments, pretended they weren’t failing their children in pursuit of wealth, and I gave their little ones all the things they deserved from childhood. My feelings for him shocked me, and I wasn’t ready to acknowledge them yet, so I focused on the earth-shattering sex. The multiple orgasms.

His secrets made that easier. And harder.

“Ugh, now I’m getting on my own damn nerves.” I stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around my body while I dried my hair with another. I wanted Brady. The flowers and the last name meant he wanted me enough—cared enough—to try.

That was enough for now.

I smiled to myself as went in search of my phone.“You deserve a reward,”I said and tapped out a quick text message.“Thank you for the lovely flowers, Mr. Winsome.”

Brady responded immediately.“I’d love to hear you call me that in person.”

My skin flushed hot at his words.“If you can find me, you just might get your wish.”I laughed to myself and opened my underwear drawer, finding a few silky and lacy things to light Brady’s fire, but none of them were right. Instead I spritzed some perfume on my pulse points and wrapped my body in a fresh towel.

And then I waited for Brady.

Ten minutes later a knock sounded on the door and I smiled. “Come in.”

Brady stepped inside and his jaw dropped at the sight of me in nothing but a towel. “Antonia,” he rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“That’s me, Mr. Winsome.”

He stepped inside the room, kicking the door shut before he locked it, his gaze never leaving me. “Take off the towel.”

I flashed a teasing smile and shook my head.

“Toni.” My name came out on a rough growl and I licked my lips at the heat that burned his blue gaze, the fire that had his cock surging behind his zipper.

“Make me.” I wanted to tease him, to make him lose control. I needed to see just how badly he wanted me. Maybe it was sick or even twisted, I didn’t care. I just needed to see evidence that he was in this the same as I was.

Brady stalked over to me and with a quick flick of his wrists, the towel fell to the floor in a pool of soft, thick terrycloth. “Much better.” His lips tugged into a tortured smile as his gaze raked over me.

I trembled at the heat in his gaze, the fire that pulsed through his veins. His chest heaved in long, heavy breaths as his gaze raked over my body. I couldn’t look away from the way his gaze consumed me, ate me up like I was his last meal, like I was the last thing he wanted to see. It was intoxicating and I stood a little taller, shivering at the way my nipples beaded.

“Toni, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

From any other man I would have said those words were lip-service, nothing more than seduction to make me succumb to his wants and needs. But the thready tone in Brady’s voice, the way his hands trembled as he reached out to me, paid true to his words.

His mouth touched my overheated flesh even before his hands, kissing a trail of fire over my body that had me shaking and trembling as I begged him for something more than butterfly kisses, more than the hint of his fiery touch. “Brady.”

“That’s right,” he growled. “Remember who’s touching you. Who’s making you feel like this. Remember it.”

As if I could ever forget the way he made me feel. I wasn’t a sentimental type of woman who saw forever in small gestures, but the reverence in his touch, the worship of my body as he placed his lips everywhere—my hips, my ribs, the underside of my tits, my belly button—it was all too much.

Every touch and every taste was so intense that I couldn’t keep one thought straight in my mind. Brady filled my mind as he kissed me from head to toe while I trembled beneath his touch. When his tongue slipped through my folds, my hips bucked up wildly, begging for more of Brady’s tongue.

He lapped up my juices and I knew my next orgasm was imminent but it wasn’t just the pleasure, it was the way he made me feel, like I was precious to him. Like I was someone he cherished and couldn’t live without, and when his cock plunged deep into my body, I arched into him and I let go.

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