Page 72 of Nanny and the Beast

The carpet is soft against my bare skin as I crawl. It's supposed to be humiliating, but I don't think I've ever been more turned on.

"They say that Elysium is supposed to cater to nearly every fantasy a man could have," he says, watching me. "And for the first time, I'm inclined to agree. Mrs. Hendricks has really outdone herself. You look exactly how I wanted you to."

A thrill runs through me.

I know it's not a coincidence that he asked for a brunette with the same height and build as me.

Mr. Sinclair wants me.

The very thought of that is a rush of power unlike anything I felt before. It's a female satisfaction that churns inside me like a dormant volcano coming to life again.

"And you're all mine to do with as I please, aren't you?" he says.

I stop when I reach his feet.

"Kneel," he says, watching me with those indifferent eyes as I sit on my haunches.

The window behind him is open. A gust of wind enters the room, making goosebumps rise on my skin. My nipples pebble even though the rest of me is burning from his gaze.

I like Mr. Sinclair looking at me.

It's the sweetest high.

"My mind must be playing tricks on me," he says. "You even smell like her."

I wasn't aware that I had a scent. I don't have a signature perfume I wear daily, so it must be something in my soap or shampoo.

"Cupcakes," he says. "She smells like cupcakes."

With a sudden movement, he leans forward. Our faces are now inches apart. I forget how to breathe.

"I keep smelling her everywhere lately," he says. "She haunts me no matter where I go. Why do you think that is?"

I blink at him, hoping he doesn't recognize me. Hoping he can't hear the racing of my heart.

"Take your mask off," he orders.

I freeze. And then I shake my head.

He reaches for me then. His large hand moves toward the side of my face. I don't move a muscle.

Technically, this is what he's paying for. I'm his to do with as he pleases.

Time seems to freeze.

Our eyes lock.

His hand closes into a fist, never touching my skin.

"I can't do it," he whispers, almost to himself.

There's momentary desolation and anguish in his eyes. It tugs at my heartstrings.

I have the urge to tell him that he's not alone in this world. I want to tell him that he's not the only one suffering. More than anything, I want to tell him that things don't have to stay the same way forever.

"Are you okay?" I whisper.

His eyes snap into focus. His gaze narrows on my face.

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