Page 93 of Nine Week Nanny
"You remembered to grab the monitor. You trying to show me up?" The teasing in her voice is soft, but there's appreciation behind it, too.
"I pay attention." I am quite proud of myself for thinking about it.
Truth is, I've watched her carry that monitor everywhere for days. She never puts it down, keeping it nearby like some kind of lifeline to Lennon, making sure she can hear if he needs her. It seemed like the obvious thing to grab it.
I move closer, watching how the lantern light from outside plays across her face. The smell of grilled chicken still hangs in the air, mixing with the ocean breeze coming through the open patio door.
"Leave the cleanup." I nod toward the mess of plates and containers. "It can wait."
Her eyebrows lift. "You always this bossy in the kitchen?"
"Yes." I don't bother softening it.
The space between us shrinks as I step closer. My fingers brush against the counter near her hip, not quite touching her but close enough that I can feel the heat of her skin.
"I wanted to hold you earlier," my lips close enough to hers to feel her breathing. The confession is raw, almost needy. "With Lennon between us, I couldn't get my fill of you."
Sloane's breath catches. "I thought the same thing. I wanted you to hold me.”
My fingers find her wrist, tracing a slow path up her forearm. Her pulse jumps beneath my touch. Water drips from her hands onto the tile floor as she turns fully toward me.
I lean in, our lips touching, now, but I stop just short of kissing her.
I nod toward the open door, where the dark lawn stretches toward the beach. "Come outside with me."
I take her hand, still damp from the dishwater, and lead her toward the door.
The projector screen stands dark, lanterns throwing a low glow across the grass. I drop down and tug her with me, keeping her hand in mine.
We settle side by side, shoulders brushing. The sky is sharp and endless above us.
“They almost don’t look real,” I murmur. “Like someone projected them up there.”
Sloane laughs softly, her hair brushing my arm. “Knowing you, you paid the projector guys an extra fee to do this."
"That would have been a good idea. I'm not that romantic."
"I might have to disagree on that one. You were amazing today. Stepping up for your brother, putting this together for him. That’s pretty damn romantic."
Sloane nuzzles in closer, her hand still holding mine, her face rubbing against my arm.
My fingers find the spaces between hers, interlocking our hands. The distant crash of waves mingles with the bass note of bullfrogs swelling in the dark.
"This is what I wanted earlier. Just you. Nothing between us."
I roll toward her, finding her mouth with mine. The kiss starts gentle, almost hesitant, before something breaks open between us. Her lips part beneath mine, and I'm lost.
My body shifts over hers, one hand braced beside her head, the other tracing the curve of her hip.
"Pope," she breathes against my lips, her fingers sliding under my shirt, exploring the muscles of my back.
My mouth travels down her neck, tasting the salt on her skin. Her back arches when I push her top up, exposing the soft skinof her stomach to the night air. I press my lips to the curve of her breast above her bra, feeling her shiver beneath me.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful," I whisper against her skin.
Her hand slides between us, palm flat against my chest before tracing lower, following the line of muscle disappearing into my jeans. Heat sears through me, and I groan against her collarbone, my hips pressing hard into hers.
“I need you,” she breathes, tugging at my belt. “God, I need you so much.”
