Page 12 of The Nanny Goal

“Yes,” I whimper. “Very okay.”

“Very okay,” he parrots. “I like that. Can you say, touch me, Alexei?”

I laugh weakly. “Touch my breasts, Alexei.”

“Good girl.” He sweeps his thumbs up, just barely glancing my nipples with the fleshy part of his palms.

I want so much more.

“Touch my nipples, Alexei.”

He catches my mouth with his as he strokes me again, this time more firmly. He drags his thumbs across my nipples, back and forth, back and forth, and then his fingers hook into the top of my bra and tug it down.

I sob into his mouth.

“My sexy secret,” he rumbles against my lips. “I need to taste.”

The surreal sight of his dark hair disappearing under my turtleneck—and then the feel of his mouth latching on to my bare breast—is a new core memory.

This is what it feels like to be intimate with someone. Literally like being licked by fire.

He sucks at both breasts until I’m panting, then grazes my nipple with his teeth before he rears up and hitches my hips up in his hands. “Get naked. I taste you now.”

I stare up at him.

He grins. “Please?”

I laugh. “Are you for real? You don’t have to beg for that, I promise.”

“You promise what?” He looks confused.

I wonder just how much English he speaks. He’s got the dirty talk cornered.

As I’m trying to figure out the simplest way to tell him he’s way sexier than anyone at college, he misreads my pause as nervousness. “Don’t be shy, solnishko.”

I repeat the endearment. “What does that mean?”

“Little sun.” He leans forward and twirls his fingers through my short blonde bob. “Are you like the sun everywhere?”

“What…” Then understanding dawns, and my face turns hot. “Yes. I’m blonde everywhere.”

He mutters something in Russian as he unzips my jeans. The urgency is a universal language that I understand, though.

I may not be experienced, but I’m not exactly shy about my body. I know what it can do, and I know I’m physically fit. Cute, even. A solid eight, maybe a nine to the average guy. A seven to jerks, but Alexei doesn’t feel like a jerk. I would wear a bikini in front of him and feel pretty confident.

But he’s going to get menakednaked.

Satisfying his curiosity about my pubes kind of naked.

That’s…so naked.

My belly quivers as he peels me down to my panties, my jeans scraping down my thighs, then his hands skimming back up them. His gaze drags all over my body on its way to my face, and when his attention settles there again, it’s magnetic.

I can’t break the connection.

There’s a distant vibration of a phone, and that doesn’t break the connection.

Don’t read more into this than simple sex, Emery Granger.

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