Page 146 of The Overtime Kiss

I need her.

This is dangerous. I can’t be the guy who leaves his young kids alone to sneak around for a quickie with the nanny next door.

And yet, I can’t tear my gaze away from her in the faint light of her hotel room. A soft night-light glows by the bed. Her tablet sits on the covers. She was probably reading before she answered my knock. City lights glimmer in the window. The sounds of a New York night—faint honking, a siren somewhere in the distance—remind me that this is a city that never sleeps. Sabrina stands right in front of me, loose blonde hair curling over the straps of a light blue cami. She wears pajama pants and fuzzy socks with foxes on them, and this detail—her love of foxes—does unfair things to my heart.

“Hi,” I say softly, my fingers itching to touch her, my palms eager to slide up and down those bare arms, to feel her skin. To see her shiver as I touch her. Hell, I feel like I’m shivering just from looking at her.

“Hey, you,” she says.

The sound of her voice makes my pulse soar. I’m so far gone.

“I had to see you.” That feels like the truest thing I’ve ever said.

“Yeah?” A smile teases me at the corner of her lips.

“On the car ride back from the arena? I was dying to reach across the seats and hold your hand,” I say.

Her smile widens. “I wanted that too.”

More confessions pour out. “On the elevator ride up here? The four of us?”

She nods for me to keep going.

“Same thing. I just wanted to wrap my arm around you. Bring you to my side. Hold you.”

Her blue eyes dance. “I could feel it—you wanting that.”

I am so transparent, and I don’t mind at all. “And then when you went into your room, and I went into ours, I just felt anticipation climbing through me,” I say, and at last, at long last, the weight is lifting. I needed to say all this. I can’t keep it to myself anymore.

She takes a step closer, and her scent swirls around me—that orange blossom perfume. I thought it was her candles, but it has to be her lotion too. Another detail about her I file away.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asks.

That’s the question, isn’t it? The million-dollar one I keep asking myself. It’s a question I’ve been asking myself since I left her that note card back in San Francisco. Since I booked the tickets for her and rebooked the ones for my kids.Now that she’s here, I keep thinking—this woman flew with my children across the country to spend Christmas with us.

Us.

What was I thinking when I didn’t want to define this? I need to define this fast. I can’t leave this open-ended. I can’t just go with the flow. That’s not fair to her. And it’s definitely not fair to this too-tight, too-big feeling in my chest.

Briefly, I think of the text Corbin sent me earlier, and a plan begins to form.

But before I fuck-up again by saying the wrong thing or saying nothing, I shut my mouth—by sealing it to hers. And all is right in the world as we connect again.

I slant my lips to her soft, sweet mouth, groaning at the taste of her minty breath. My Sabrina loves her toothpaste. The more spearmint-y the better, and I love knowing this detail about her. I love knowing all the things about her. Her affection for foxes and for rescue animals. Her love of bagels. Her soft spot for shiny objects. Her need to keep lists and the way she tempers it by keeping good lists. Her love of skatingand her bigger love of the joy in the sport. Her strength in standing up to her family and her boundless spirit in making every day fun for my kids. How she teaches them about Earth, and giving back. The way she cares for them. And for me.

As all of this knowledge swirls in my head, I kiss her more fervently, her body molding to mine, her heart beating against my chest, and I know something else too.

These sparks I feel?

This intensity that has me hostage?

This clawing feeling that consumes my chest, my cells, my bones? This unfamiliar emotion that’s swallowing me whole?

I’m falling in love with the nanny.

I groan into her mouth, tugging her impossibly closer, wanting to gather her in my arms, to haul her up, have her wrap her legs around my waist. But the weight of responsibility in the next room bears down on me. I can’t fuck her in the adjoining room, even with the kids out for the count. Besides, they just fell asleep. They might wake up.

But I can do something else.

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