Page 112 of The Nanny Goal

She winks. God damn, I miss her.

“How was bedtime?”

“Easy peasy. She’s happy she can play with your parents again. We all walked to the park today, and she really tired herself out. Your mom did, too, but in a good way.”

“Anyone else still up?” My voice dips low. I’m pretty sure she’s all alone, but I want her to say it.

“Nope. Everyone here is tucked in for the night.”

I exhale, relief coursing through me. “Everyone except you. Who’s going to tuck in Emery?”

Heat pops in her cheeks, and her lips darken, too. She’s turned on, and I know it, and I can’t push those buttons too hard, but pushing her buttons is all I can think about.

Silence stretches as she looks at me through the phone. My pulse grows heavy.

And then she licks her lips. “I was hoping you would.”

Fuck yeah. “Take me to bed with you, sunshine.”

She gestures as the mess around her. “I was just tidying up.”

“Okay. Tell me about your day while you do that.”

She sets her phone down and disappears, but she keeps talking. “I’ve been researching childcare options, actually.”

“What?”

She reappears and gives me a nervous smile. “The EBUB program doesn’t last forever.”

I try not to scowl. “I know.”

“Umm, so today’s research was for like, next year maybe. Did you know that preschool registration is actually kind of competitive?”

“I did not.”

“Same.” She finishes moving the toys to their bins, and picks up the phone again. “So yeah, Charlie just got off a waiting list for a program, and Becca was mentioning how it took her a while. And I was thinking about your dad…”

She goes quiet as she climbs the stairs.

She checks on Inessa, quietly showing me that my daughter is fast asleep, then steps back into the hallway.

“Go to my room,” I say quietly.

She crooks an eyebrow at the camera. “Yeah?”

I want her on my bed.

I want her underneath me, but that’s going to have to wait one more night.

As she walks down the hall, I’m struck again by that profound sense of rightness that she’s in my space.

Once she clicks my door shut, I drag my mind out of where it wants to go—her tits, her mouth, her soft, soft pussy—and back to the conversation she started.

“You were saying something about my dad…”

“Right. Um, I think another option, rather than a nanny, might be enrolling Inessa in daycare.”

“Daycare?” I’m confused where this is coming from. “She’s too young, don’t you think?”

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