Page 68 of The Overtime Kiss

She pushes my head harder. “I want you so much.”

“I fucking want you too,” I growl, grabbing her leggings to peel them off?—

Then my watch buzzes. Annoyingly. Persistently.With an alarm.

“Fuck,” I groan, jerking away. That has to be my morning skate reminder. But it’s not. It’s a phone call.

My watch tells me Parker’s calling. In the middle of a school day.

I bolt upright, hunting for my phone. Where the hell is it? I spot it, knocked off to the side of the yoga mat, and lunge for it.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?” I say, trying to clear the lust from my voice in record time.

“I forgot my star chart! The science fair is tomorrow, and we need to set up today. Can you bring it to me?”

“Of course,” I say, guilt slamming into me, sharp and cold.

Sabrina is already sitting up, adjusting her top, fixing her leggings, her gaze averted.

“Where’s your star chart?” I ask, shoving a hand through my hair, like I can finger-comb out the evidence.

“My desk!”

“I’ll drop it off on the way to morning skate,” I tell him, but one look at the time and—fuck—I’m already pushing it. Morning skate isn’t mandatory, but I never miss it. “Maybe I can drop it off after?”

Sabrina lifts a finger, mouthing, “I’ll take it.”

My shoulders relax.“Thank you,”I mouth back. Then to Parker: “Sabrina will bring it to you now, buddy.”

“Thanks, Dad!” He sounds relieved too.

I hang up, and when I turn back, Sabrina looks at me—a disheveled mess, just like I am.

Flustered, she smooths a hand down her leggings, then twists her hair into a ponytail. “You get the star chart. I’ll take it to school,” she says, all business.

And I hate myself as I say yes.

I hate myself as I climb the stairs, a fading boner making the whole thing feel even more miserable.

I hate myself as I make it to Parker’s room, my pulse still rocketing, my body still buzzing from touching her. My heart slams against my chestso damn hard.

I’m sweating, and the lust hasn’t even fully left my body as I grab the star chart, feeling like a complete ass.

I should have remembered to tell him to take it this morning.

I shouldn’t have let things spiral out of controlso badlythat I nearly missed morning skate.

And I definitely shouldn’t have almost tongue-fucked the nanny.

Cooler heads should prevail.

When I make it downstairs, Sabrina is standing in the kitchen, a workout jacket zipped over her chest—not a Sea Dogs one. And somehow, that bugs me. But I get it.

And it’s also a reminder.

I hand her the star chart. “Thanks,” I say, and it hardly feels like enough.

“No problem.” She smiles as she tucks the paper under her arm.

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