Page 23 of Bully Wolf's Nanny
This was wrong. She shouldn’t be doing this. She needed to stop.
Her fingers brushed the underside of one breast, and she stifled a gasp, thighs clenching together.
What if the hunger on his face, what if that molten intensity…was for her?
Her hand moved higher, cupping her breast, her thumb rubbing over her stiff nipple. She bit back a groan at the contact.
What would have happened if she had stayed? If she had waited to see what he would say to her?
Daisy.
Her name on his lips was like some dark promise of sin.
Her other hand traipsed lower, grazing over her thigh, moving towards her aching center.
Would he have taken another step towards her? And then another, and then another until he was close enough that he could reach out and…and…
Her fingers rubbed over her damp folds. Even through the cotton of her pajama pants, the sensation sent sparks up her spine. Her fingers tightened against her nipple, tweaking it just to the point of pain, her other hand moving again against herself.
Would he have touched her like this? Would he have said her name again, low and gravelly, heavy with need? She imagined it. She imagined his eyes as he pulled her towards him, the molten heat of him enough to melt her down to her core.
Her breaths came faster now as she chased her impending pleasure.
Would he have spun her around, his hands coming up to caress her breasts? Would he have flipped her skirts up, pushed her against the piano? Would it have been like the time when they had first…
The thought was like icy water poured over her brain.
Her eyes flew open, and she sat up, a raging blush spreading from her cheeks down to her chest as her hands flew away from her body as if she had been burned.
What the hell was she doing? Fantasizing about her employer in his own house? Fantasizing about him after everything that had happened between them?
She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t go there. Not again. Not like this.
She sprang up from the bed, straightening her pajamas, nervously pacing. All the tension was still there, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
Water. Water would help.
She dashed from her bedroom and padded down the stairs, her face still firmly on fire.
So engrossed was she in telling herself off, she didn’t notice that the kitchen light was on until it was too late.
She strode into the kitchen and nearly screamed as two arms shot out to stop her from colliding straight into a chest.
And not just any chest.
Nicolas’s chest. Nicolas’s bare chest.
Her mind went entirely blank.
“Daisy?” Nicolas said, his voice thick with worry. “Daisy, are you alright? What is it?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Her eyes flew up to his face, her lips parting.
As soon as their eyes made contact, something shifted in the air between them. Nicolas’s face turned from concern into something else. Something heated. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and to her abject humiliation, he scented the air.
She sucked in a breath, even as he let out a harsh one.
It was as if electricity danced between them. Daisy was instantly aware of every inch of her body, from her flushed cheeks to her hard nipples to the aching wetness between her legs.
