Page 10 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Vol. 3

Logan

I ’m doing it again.

I’m going down a dark path I know is wrong. I told myself a hundred times before showing up at Chelle’s Brooklyn to leave her alone. Let Miss Carrington have one fun night before starting work. Stay out of it, Logan .

But I never listen. I never learn. I smell trouble on the horizon, and I’m speeding straight for it .

She’s right—I’m a control freak. Which has its advantages. Bringing Miss Carrington home when I’m feeling volatile and possessive, however, isn’t one of them. I only meant to spy on her, make sure she wasn’t a total drunk or pothead or whatever. I honestly wouldn’t have cared if she’d had one drink, as long as she left the bar on time to get a decent night’s sleep. But the moment I saw those dudes circling her—and yes, their sights were set on her, not her friend—I couldn’t help it .

When we pull into the building, I open her side door and offer my hand .

She stares at it a moment before looking up at me, one leg hanging out the side of my Lamborghini. In that little black dress with the peek-a-boo swath of sheer fabric across the chest, she’s driving me insane, even when it was from the hidden corner of the bar. Now, giving me those unsure, sexy eyes, I’m instantly hard and fighting to control my breath .

Paisley steps out, and I close the car door, showing her the way to the private elevator. “I would imagine it gives you trouble,” she says .

“What does?” I catch every detail of her strong legs, her pedicured toes inside her strappy heels, and her guarded, stiff walk .

“Being in control of everything .”

I see she’s still stuck on that. “How so?” Reaching the elevator, I press the call button and watch the arrow turn downward .

“Well, any woman you’re with must hate it.” She gives me a look from the corner of her eye. I study her face to determine if she’s teasing or completely serious .

I decide it’s both. She bites her lip which tells me she’s holding back a smile. My cock stiffens even more. This girl has a lick of attitude. She doesn’t mind pushing my buttons, even if it means putting her job at risk. But she does it so calmly, I can’t bring myself to be mad at her. You can’t blame someone for telling the truth .

“I don’t get any complaints in that department,” I say, watching the elevator numbers finally reach the thirties, then the twenties …

Her bottom lip quivers. She’s thinking hard about her next words, weighing the consequences. She wants to cross into flirting territory but she’s afraid. Still, she will. Because she wants me. I see it in her body language. Trembling. Restrained. Fighting to stay professional. Her desire is a side effect of my having controlled her back at the bar. Works every time .

“I think you like being controlled.” I shouldn’t go there. But it’s too late. It’s out there, and I’ve crossed the line. I can’t help it. As much as I love control, I love it because I’m really weak at heart. And Paisley Carrington has done what no other woman has been able to do in a very, very long time if ever—weaken me .

Her head shakes quickly side to side. The elevator dings. “No. I don’t .”

The door opens .

“Are you sure?” I ask, stepping in and watching her full, womanly form step in and stand next to me. She looks straight ahead. Scared to look at me. I feel the heat radiating off her body without even touching her .

One little sigh .

The closing of her eyes that tell me she’s fighting. Fighting hard .

Take it. Take her kiss and don’t ask permission. I’m not this new breed of simpering man who wants to talk about feelings and asks before he does every little thing he wants to do .

Paisley doesn’t need that kind of man. She needs me .

Before I can argue with myself that I have no room in my life for giving Paisley Carrington what she doesn’t know she wants, that I’m still in the middle of a divorce and should probably close one door before I open another, I’m pulling her into my arms and landing hard with my back against the elevator wall. Blindly, I press the PH for my floor .

I hear a gasp and see the shocked look in her pale eyes before my lips press against hers. Now, they’re blue—her eyes. I love the way they change depending on her mood. Must remember—blue = horny as fuck. I taste the sweetness of her breath and the tartness of the lemon. Clean, pure taste. She really was keeping it clean at the bar .

Her heartbeat pounds against my chest. My hands hold onto her neck and lower back, as I draw her into me. I have to feel her body. Have to push my straining cock against the warmth radiating between her legs. The heat doesn’t lie. Neither does her gravitation toward me. “Mr. Raider, I …”

“Stop anytime you want.” I stroke her hair, push it behind her ears, grip her chin and make her look at me. “But I know what you want, Paisley. I knew it the moment you stepped into my car .”

“But you told me to.” She breathes against my mouth, eyes scanning mine .

“And you listened.” I kiss her again. The elevator races higher. Paisley feels weak in my hold. My tongue explores the inside of her mouth, the hotness of her lips and tongue. Her gasps for breath and the raw openness of her parted mouth drive me to higher levels of insanity. I imagine her dropping to her knees and taking my rock-solid dick into her mouth. I want to fuck that lovely throat. I want to spin her around and fuck her against the elevator glass .

But we’ve reached the penthouse level, and the door opens .

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