Page 38 of Nanny and the Beast

“I needed some fresh air,” I say.

“You’re aware that your room comes with windows, right?”

It’s not enough.

Nothing’s ever enough to take the fear away.

“Why don’t you join us for breakfast or dinner?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Sorry?”

“It would make the kids happy if you ate with them,” I say.

“They hate being here,” he whispers. “They hate that this is their life now.”

His eyes look like they’re lost in another time and place. I don’t think he meant to say the words out loud.

“They’re lucky to have you,” I say gently. “I can tell that you really care about them.”

His gaze snaps back to mine.

Everything hardens, from his eyes to the set of his mouth.

“You should go,” he says.

I guess he’s back to being an asshole.

“And next time you leave your room, at least make sure you’re dressed appropriately,” he adds.

His eyes are burning embers. They study my lips before traveling down my body. I glance down at myself and realize that the sash around my waist has come undone, revealing a slice of skin all the way down to my navel. And it’sobvious that I’m not wearing anything underneath the robe.

His jaw clenches when I glance back up at him.

Our eyes lock.

Blood rushes to my ears. My head fills with white noise.

I really like the thought of him looking at me. I like the thought of him liking what he sees.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, tugging at the sash until it comes completely undone.

All the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. My legs turn to jelly as he tugs me closer using his grip on my robe. His fingers move with deft precision, tying the sash over my waist without touching my body.

I do nothing to stop him.

If anything, I crave more of his touch. I have a feeling it will make me forget about everything that haunts my head tonight.

“I don’t think this is any better,” he says, glaring at my tits.

He’s tied it way too tight. The robe arranged itself in a way that makes my breasts plump up like they’re sitting in a push-up bra.

Desire swims in his eyes, along with a glint of something feral.

The cover of the moonlight makes this illicit tension feel permissible. I have the urge to move closer toward him, to bridge the gap between right and wrong.

But if we crossed the line now, there’s no coming back.

He takes a step closer. I have to tilt my head all the way back just to look at him. His body heat envelops me like a forbidden embrace.

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