Page 23 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Part 4

Kase

All day,I’ve thought of her. This is a goddamn problem.

And all day, I’ve tried to stay away, engulfing myself in work projects, only checking in with Alana through texts. It’s a tough spot to be in. On one hand, I wanted to go home during lunch and see the baby (and her) or come home early to spend time with Liam before bed. But now, because of the way I lost control around her, I feel like I can’t go home.

I can’t stay away either. I have to face this situation.

Entering the house, I hang my coat and lock up for the night, heading straight for the bar to pour myself a Jack and Coke. What happened was a one-time thing, Alana. It can’t happen anymore. I told her this last night, but this time, I have to enforce it. I’m the boss here, goddammit, and the older one by about seven years. I think I can keep the monster inside the pants.

Heading into my office, I surround myself with books and papers in the hopes they’ll keep me more professional. Staying away from her bedroom would be good from now on in general, too. And if you hear her masturbating again, leave her the fuck alone, Kase. Sinking into my leather chair, I lean back and sip from my tumbler.

I’ve been with hundreds of women. When it’s clear there’s mutual physical connection and no hazard for hooking up, I take that shit. Why not? We all need sex, and all it takes it two willing adults. But that’s it—that’s where the liaison ends. I’ve lost two too many women I love in this life to invest any more emotion into anyone else. I’m done with close relationships—parental, best friend, or romantic. I’m so good at letting go, at nipping it in the bud before it even has the chance to bloom, that I’ve been confounded all day.

Why Alana?

Why can’t I get the nanny, of all women, out of my mind?

She’s gorgeous, sure, but all the women I’ve slept with are out of this world beautiful. It just comes with the territory, with the money, and hey, I keep in shape, too. She’s also smart, but I work with lots of smart cookies, so I have no fucking clue why I can’t stop thinking about her.

Maybe it was the innocent way she gave herself over to me. Trusted me. Her reaction made me feel she needed someone—needed a man to take control. Too many women I’ve fucked don’t need shit from me. They all get along by themselves. But Alana looked like she could’ve used a good fuck, and let’s face it—there’s nothing wrong with that.

Before I can think about the situation another second, I hear light footsteps outside my door. Stay strong, I tell myself. But the whisky is already taking the edge off, as well as making me bolder, so by the time she appears in my doorway—this time in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and hair in a swishy ponytail—I’m already wishing I could leave the house again.

“Mr. Hardwin, can I talk to you?”

“How was Liam at bedtime? Sorry I couldn’t be here. Things got sticky at work.” I hate sounding like a deadbeat dad, but I needed the space. At least for a day.

“Better than he’s been with me so far. I think we needed the time to get used to one another.” Her voice oozes like honey. There’s a tad of southern in it. She also leans casually against the door instead of standing stiff and professional like usual.

“Excellent,” I tell her, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “And how were you today?” I ask, following up with, “You can take time off if you need it. I realize you didn’t have a break today.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Too tired to go anywhere at this point. But uh…I wanted to say something…”

“No, let me. Look, Alana, I don’t know what happened last night. I guess before we’re anything, we’re man and woman first. So let’s just say that pheromones hijacked the situation. It’ll never happen again.”

Her face freezes. Eyes wide, she stares at me, assessing my words and analyzing their meaning. “Right.” One word she utters, but it carries so much heaviness, I have to think that maybe she’s disappointed.

Fuck, I’m disappointed.

Because she looks so fucking beautiful right now, even after a full day of caring for an infant. An infant who even isn’t hers, which is exponentially harder. Maybe I’m reading her wrong, but it seems like we’re not done here. We’ve only just started, and nobody has to know about this. “That is okay…isn’t it, Miss Frasier?”

“Well…”

I stand and come around the desk, stopping a couple feet short of her. Even from this distance, I can smell her skin and hair, freshly shampooed and blow-dried. Whether she showered after Liam went to bed for herself or for me, I don’t know, but I do know a woman will always get clean if she wants to get dirty.

And dirty is the only thing I can focus on right now.

“What is it about you, Miss Frasier?” I take a step forward and slide a finger through her hair. There’s a slip out of place and I can’t help but pull it down, frame it around her face, then graze her chin. “Why can’t I get you out of my mind?”

“I’m…not sure, Mr. Hardwin.”

Both my hands scoop around her face. Her eyes close, her lips part, and I can feel her trembling the closer I get. Alarms sound in my head—abort, abort!—but I can’t stop. I can’t stop because we’re two human magnets who can’t stop themselves from connecting, nor do we want to. I’m hard as fuck and growing harder with every moment. There’s electricity in the shrinking between us.

“I came here to tell you something, but now I forgot what that was.” She breathes, nostrils flare as they fight for breath.

“You’ll think of it later, I’m sure.” Running my thumb across her lip, I watch her mouth open as her tongue darts out and both lips wrap around my finger. My cock swells even more. I have to feel this mouth around me in much the same way.

“I wanted to do for you what you did for me last night,” she says quietly.

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