Page 19 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Part 4

Kase

Lying in bed,staring at the ceiling of Evie’s bedroom, I think about Alana and how she’s only twenty feet down the hall in another bedroom. In Evie’s guest bedroom, the shiny one with the salmon and pink accents, the Victorian décor, the one fit for a queen, not a nanny. Except that Alana deserves to sleep there. She may not have much experience as a nanny, but she’s worked damn hard.

You don’t get hired by Lodwick Brothers unless you’ve worked your ass off.

When she told me that, I was thoroughly impressed. But it does present a problem. Should I keep her working for me? It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be caring for kids and the first chance she gets to escape this job, she will. I promised Liam I would take care of him, promised him I would give him the same care his mother would have provided, and there’s no way Evie would’ve let a half-ass nanny take care of her own flesh and blood.

My best friend adored Liam.

I need to find someone who will adore him just the same.

It’s obvious that Alana isn’t the best choice, but I can’t seem to let her go. The young woman is clearly sucking up some major pride to be here helping me. She needs the money, and more than that, I can’t stop staring at her, listening to her talk, and watching her fumble in her interactions with Liam. In a way, I hope she’ll fail miserably as a nanny so I can continue to show her how it’s done.

She’s just down the hall.

Twenty feet away.

Probably in that T-shirt, ready for bed. What does she do before bed, I wonder? I so fucking badly want to go over there and crack the door open, see what she’s up to, but I’ve never been a stalker and I’m not about to start now. That blonde hair all pinned up is probably loose around her shoulders now. Those glasses are probably set on her nightstand. Does she touch herself while she’s lying in bed?

I saw the way she watched me tonight as we had our little discussion. I know she wants me as much as I want her, but we can’t do anything about it. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to lurk down the hall, go grab a glass of water, and see if maybe I can’t hear her talking on the phone or something. That wouldn’t be stalking. That would simply be overhearing. After all, this is where I live now—Evie’s house, now mine, since her old man still thinks we were married before her death—and I’m allowed to roam the hallways if I so feel like it.

Sometimes I feel guilty for living in a mansion I don’t own. But then I remember that I’ve had a hard life. My mother raised me all alone, died before I graduated college, leaving me to my own devices. Soon after, my best friend died as well, leaving me her awesome little kid. When her boyfriend left her high and dry, I was there for her. If anyone’s allowed to live in Evie’s place, care for her son, and not feel guilt, it’s me. I just have to keep telling myself that.

In my shorts, I slide off the bed and head out the door, determined to get a glass of water without waking Liam. Since his mother died, he’s had trouble sleeping the whole night long, and the kid has to find a way of moving on—just like I did. I’m at the top of the stairs, about to descend into the darkness of the house when I hear it.

A soft moan.

It sounds like it could be coming from a TV or electronic device. Maybe my resident nanny likes watching porn before bed? I immediately harden at the thought. I’d be good with that. Then again, maybe she’s crying softly in her sleep? Tiptoeing closer to her room, I crane my neck to hear better. Another soft moan. And another. Her bathroom door is open, the lights are off, but I can smell the sweet scents of bath bombs and other bath items. She must’ve taken a fresh bath just a short while ago.

More than likely, she’s lying naked in bed.

I’ll do anything,her words echo in my mind.

I can’t help myself and enter the bathroom, touch her towel which is still damp, and hold it close to my face. Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t be a fucking creep, creeping around. If I’m going to be obsessed with this chick, then I’m going to have to be straightforward about it. Besides, it’s my house now, and I’m allowed to enter any room I damn well please.

Knocking lightly outside her door, I crack open and wait for her to acknowledge. I’m not one for peeping when uninvited, but for some reason, I can’t help myself. I need to know why Alana’s moaning is getting louder. She’s touching herself, I know it, and I have to see it for myself.

“Mr. Hardwin.” She gasps, pulls the comforter up to her chin. “Do you need something?”

My cock can answer that, and it will as soon as she sees the tent I’ve pitched in my shorts. I only get harder when I see that she’s in a tight tank top in bed, her hair all wet, and her hard nipples poking through the ribbed fabric. “I heard a sound like moaning and wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Of course she’s alright. She’s imagining herself getting reamed by your cock just like you were dreaming about her in your room, idiot.

“I must’ve been having a bad dream,” she says. So fucking cute when she lies.

“It didn’t sound like such a bad dream. Are you sure it was a nightmare?” I could leave her room and bid her goodnight, but I can’t. I won’t. We both know what’s going on, and I have to see her, hear those sounds coming from her mouth right this very second.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Her wide eyes regard me across the room with fear, nervousness, embarrassment for having been caught in the middle of something naughty. “Have you decided whether to keep me or not?”

“I’ve given it some thought, but I’m still not sure. I need someone who’s into it, Alana. Someone who’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay. I’ll do anything you tell me, Mr. Hardwin. I swear.”

“You shouldn’t swear. Dirties your mouth. You have a pretty mouth, you know,” I say. She stares at me. Through me. Her nostrils flare, and I can almost hear her heart pounding through the flimsy tank top. “Show me what you were doing before I walked in.”

“What do you mean? I was…sleeping.”

“No, you weren’t. Show me what you were doing. I promise I won’t touch you. Unless you want me to. I want to see for myself. Hands off.” I hold my hands up to show she can trust me.

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