Page 36 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

Austin

Ican't tear my eyes away from her. Skylar glides through the water, her movements fluid and graceful, like some kind of siren luring me to my doom. I've retreated to a hidden alcove off the main living area, peering through a gap in the curtains like some kind of voyeur. I just can't help myself.

The memory of her earlier taunt echoes in my mind."I could give you a repeat performance of the other day."

Her voice had been low, teasing, full of promise. It had sent a jolt of electricity through my body, hardening me instantly. I'd gripped the door frame so tightly I'm surprised I didn't shatter the glass.

And, when she slid that thin little strap down her shoulder,fuuuuuuuck.

Now, as I watch her standing in the pool—mypool, water cascading down her curves, I feel that same surge of desire. My cock strains against my zipper, begging for relief. I grit my teeth, willing my body to calm down.

"Get it together, Austin," I mutter to myself. "She's nothing but trouble."

But even as I say the words, I know they're a lie. Skylar Deveraux is far more than just trouble. She's a force of nature, wild and unpredictable. And God help me, I want her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

She tosses her wet hair over her shoulder, droplets sparkling in the sunlight. My fingers itch to run through those damp strands, to pull her close and taste the salt on her skin. I imagine her sharp tongue, usually so quick with a biting retort, put to much better use.

"Fuck," I breathe, adjusting myself discreetly. This woman is going to be the death of me.

I watch as she stretches languidly by the pool's edge, every movement a deliberate tease. Does she know I'm watching? Is this all for my benefit? The thought both thrills and infuriates me.

I should walk away. I should focus on work, on my son, on anything but the maddening creature before me. But I remain rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the tempest that is Skylar Deveraux.

The sound of childish laughter breaks through my lust-filled haze. I blink, refocusing as the kids come skipping through the gate. Birdie follows close behind.

"Skylar!" Birdie calls out, her voice warm and full of affection. "Your little ones are back. I’m going to head back inside, dear. Thank you both for spending some time with a boring old lady."

“Bye, Birdie,” the kids call out. “Thank you.”

I watch as Skylar turns, her face softening in a way I've never seen before. It's like a mask slipping, revealing a glimpse of something tender beneath her usual icy exterior.

"Thanks, Birdie," Skylar calls back, her voice light. "I'll be in soon."

The exchange hits me like a punch to the gut. This softer side of Skylar, so at odds with the sharp-tongued woman I've come to know, stirs something uncomfortable within me. It's a reminder that there's more to her than the facade she presents, more than the trouble she represents in my carefully ordered world.

I lean against the wall, closing my eyes briefly. "This is insane," I mutter to myself. "She's nothing to you. Nothing. Just the kids’ nanny."

But even as I say the words, I know they're hollow. My body's reaction to her, the way my heart races at the mere sight of her, tells a different story. One I'm not ready to face.

I open my eyes, my gaze drawn back to the pool like a magnet. Cohen's there now, his shaggy hair damp from the water, guiding the kids toward the house. He moves with that easy grace he's always had, despite the weariness etched in the lines around his eyes.

"Come on, munchkins," he calls out, his voice carrying a hint of forced cheerfulness. "Let's get you all dried off and fed."

I watch as Skylar glides through the water, her movements fluid and graceful. She reaches the edge of the pool where Cohen stands, and for a moment, their eyes meet. There's a flicker of...something. Understanding? Longing? It's gone before I can name it, but it leaves an acrid taste in my mouth.

My fists clench at my sides. "What the hell is going on here?" I mutter under my breath.

Before I can dwell on it further, Theo strides out onto the patio, all casual confidence and easy smiles. He approaches the pool's edge, extending a hand to Skylar.

"Need a hand, gorgeous?" he asks, his voice carrying that infuriating hint of charm.

Skylar looks up, a smirk playing on her lips. "Such a gentleman," she teases, reaching for his outstretched hand.

As Theo helps her from the pool, his hand slides down her back, coming to rest firmly on her ass. It's a blatant, possessive gesture that sets my blood boiling.

"Motherfucker," I growl, my vision clouding with red. The urge to storm out there and rip his hand away is overwhelming.

I force myself to take a deep breath, trying to regain control. But the sight of Theo's hand on Skylar, the way she leans into him ever so slightly, it's like a knife twisting in my gut.

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