Page 137 of Worst Nanny Ever
“That’s great, but I also want to see these Moroney files,” I say, gripping her close. “I need them. It’s the only thing that will make me feel better.”
She bites my chest playfully, and I laugh, then stand up with her and swing her up over my shoulder. She shrieks as I carry her into the bathroom like that.
“What are you doing?” she asks, laughing.
“You cut my hair. The least I can do is wash you off.”
I stop in my tracks when I glimpse myself in the mirror.
“Wow,” I say.
I set her on her feet, barely recognizing my reflection in the mirror. My hair’s not overly short, but it doesn’t hang in my face anymore. The birthmark I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to hide is on full display. I’m surprised by how much I don’t hate it. By how good it feels to embrace the change.
“Do you like it?” she asks, her tone a little self-conscious.
I turn toward her, lowering my hands to the waistband of her pants. “I love it,” I say, pushing her yoga pants down. “But I love this even more.”
I turn the shower on, testing the spray with my hand, and Hannah gives me an indulgent smile. Probably because she always leaps in without testing the water first. So fuck it. I pull her under into the tub and under the still cold water, and she laughs and dances in it, even as it soaks us.
She’s breathtaking. Easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Oh my God,” she squeals, “it’s freezing.”
But it’s already warming up, and I pull her to me, kissing her as the water rains down on us. Kissing her like she’s my salvation. I slide my hand between her legs, feeling her there as the cold water heats up, steam clouding around us, and she gasps into my mouth even as she reaches down and finds my hard cock. The feeling of her hand around me, squeezing my tip, is almost enough to make me come on the spot. But I hold off. I need to come inside her.
She practically leaps up onto me, wrapping her legs around me, and I laugh into her mouth and back her into the wall. There’s barely enough space in here for one person, but if we can make that storeroom work, we can make this work too. She reaches down to adjust my angle, and I thrust into her as the water beats down on us. My shorn hair is soaking wet, and her drenched curls are plastered to the sides of her face as she leans her had back, giving me the perfect angle to trail kisses down her neck as we move together.
My need builds, and I move faster as she tightens her legs around me, her fingers exploring my shorter hair and tracing the line of my back.
I feel her come around me, and I follow her two thrusts later, kissing her face, her lips. Overcome with ecstasy not justbecause the sex is so good with her, but because I’m with her. Because she loves me. My body hurts where Bixby bruised me, and my soul hurts worse, but she’s helping me heal it. I already feel a thousand times better than I did at The Missing Beat this afternoon. I feel hopeful. With her love, I feel like I can do anything.
“I promised to wash you,” I say.
“I can definitely wash myself,” she replies, her expression amused.
“Obviously, but I’m asking for the privilege.”
The wry humor fades from her face. There’s something bare and open about her expression as she nods. “Yeah, okay.”
I slowly wash her body, getting half hard already, and then her hair, following her instructions, making her laugh with my ineptitude with curly hair.
“I’ll learn,” I say.
And she looks up at me with love in her eyes and says, “I know you will.”
We follow the trail of our discarded clothing back to the living room, getting dressed as we go. Once we’re put back together, I pull her against me, meeting her gaze. “It’s probably too late for me to go pick up Ollie. I’d like it if you’d spend the night at my house with me. It’s closer to Dottie’s house, and we can go pick him up together in the morning and drop him off at school. Maybe you’ll get a chance to say hello to your new favorite teacher.”
She wraps her hand around my arm, her eyes lighting up. “Travis, I didn’t tell you.”
I smile, because I love her enthusiasm about everything. “What?”
“Mrs. Applebaum is meeting Eugene on Friday at Big Catch. She seems excited about it.”
“I’ll play them ‘Blue River’ until myfingers bleed.”
“God, I love you,” she says, getting on her toes and wrapping her arms around me.
“I love you too.”
