Page 21 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

Ollie walked from the hallway into the living room, Bo beside her. His hand came to rest on her bare lower back, his thumb swiping rhythmically against her skin, sending flickers of heat and sparks dancing across her skin. Right, so he couldn’t hold her hand in public, but he could touch her in private.

She knew she should call him out on his actions and move away from him, but she loved that small connection, the heat he managed to generate with so little contact. She pulled in a hit of his aftershave, an understated scent reminding her of Italian lemons and fresh sea air. He looked gorgeous in his tuxedo. He had that clothes-horse body that was required for male models—wide shoulders, long legs, slim hips—and she could easily understand why so many eyes followed him around the room.

He was a stunning-looking specimen of a male in his prime...

And, man, she wanted him.

She shouldn’t—it was such a bad idea—but she couldn’t imagine padding down the hallway to her bedroom, shutting her door and going to bed alone.

Ollie hesitated, not sure what to do, and opted to walk over to the floor-to-ceiling window that looked onto the sound. Bo headed down the hallway to where Mat slept in his nursery. She heard his door open and then close a few minutes later.

Mat was asleep and they were alone.

‘Would you like a drink?’ Bo asked, his deep voice sounding rougher than normal.

She shouldn’t, but a drink would give her an excuse to prolong this evening, to spend more non-nanny time with him. She nodded and she heard the sound of liquid being sloshed into a glass. When he approached her, coming to stand next to her at the window, she noticed that he’d shed his jacket, pulled off his tie and undone the top buttons of his shirt. Handing her a glass of cognac, he slowly, oh, so slowly, rolled up the cuffs of his shirt to reveal his muscled forearms. The low light of the single lamp turned the hair on his arms a light golden colour and glinted off the face of his expensive watch.

Ollie sipped, grateful for the burn of expensive liquor as it slid down her throat. She knew she should speak, but the words were stuck in her throat. There were words that she could say—I want youandplease take me to bed—but she knew that if they walked down that road they’d make this situation far more complicated than it needed to be.

She was his employee, he was her boss.

It was unprofessional...

This would be her last nanny job...

All the above was true but she knew she would regret not kissing him, not sharing his bed, for the rest of her life... Being with him was a gift she could give herself.

Ollie watched as he picked up his glass and raised it to his lips. Her eyes met his and he watched her, his eyes hooded and glinting with...was that need? Want? Flat-out desire? A mixture of all three?

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to break the eye contact. Needing fortification, she lifted her glass again but Bo snatched it out of her hand and banged it down on the closest table, causing the glass to tip over onto its side. Ollie watched the expensive liquid drip over the edge of the expensive table and hit the hardwood floor. They should clean it up, but neither of them made a move.

Her head felt extra-heavy when she lifted her eyes to look at Bo again, and this time she had no doubt what he wanted. It was in his eyes, blazing across his face, expressed in the tenting of his tuxedo trousers.

He wanted her...

They were about to cross a line, a pretty big one. He caught her hesitation and frowned. ‘It’s a big step, Ollie,’ he stated, echoing her thoughts.

‘I know,’ she replied. ‘But it’s one I want to take. Do you?’

His ‘oh, yeah’ came quickly and those two words, and the relieved sigh he released, were all the reassurance she needed. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her into him. Ollie felt her breasts pushing into his hard chest, the hardness of his erection against her stomach. She wasn’t a novice when it came to sex. She and Fred—when they’d seen each other—had had what she’d thought was a very healthy sex life. But she’d never felt this shaky and off-balance with her ex. With Bo’s green eyes on hers, she felt as if he was striding into her soul, looking around and taking stock.

His sexy mouth, with its thinner top lip, headed for hers and Ollie realised that this was what she’d been waiting for—more of the heat they’d shared a few days ago. But, while she thought they might’ve left scorch marks on the wall in the hallway when they’d kissed, it was nothing to being on the receiving end of Bo’s unleashed passion now.

This was a grown-up kiss, a ‘take everything I have’kiss, a kiss for the ages, a kiss to measure against for the rest of her life. He pushed his fingers into her hair and held her head to his, and his other hand rested low on her back, keeping the lower half of her body tight against his. She felt captured and enveloped, but she didn’t care, and she had no wish to escape.

As his tongue slid into her mouth, she tasted cognac and the faint hint of the cigar he’d smoked before they’d left the ball. But her overwhelming sensation was his need to take her, claim her and make her his.

She’d never been a fan of being possessed, of cleaving herself to a man—she was far too independent and modern-thinking for that. But something in Bo’s kiss made her think of plundering Vikings and dominant men who scooped up maidens and threw them over their shoulders.

Right now, she got the appeal. He was elementally male, primordially alpha, and she loved it. She loved the way he was making her feel: sexy, desired and oh, so female.

There was power in being desired so fiercely by a man like this, to feel his impatience in his kiss, to know that you were the one he wanted. Ollie felt like a princess, a goddess, someone who had a great deal more power and allure than she usually did.

Unable to help herself, her hands skated up and down his muscled back, and she pushed her body into his, needing to get closer. She explored his neck with her fingers, allowing his soft hair to slide over her fingers, running her hand over his muscled shoulders. Needing more, needing to feel his skin, she pulled his shirt from the band of his trousers and made a muffled noise when she encountered hot male skin. She enjoyed the sizzle, the way his kiss deepened when she pushed her finger between the band of his trousers and under his briefs. She couldn’t get very far, and her hands moved to the front of his trousers, seeking the snap that kept them together.

His hands left her hips to hold hers against his stomach and he wrenched his mouth away to look down at her with glittering eyes. ‘Are we doing this, Ollie?’

She knew that if she backed away she would regret it for the rest of her life. For one night she wanted to be the object of his attention, the reason his world turned. She needed to feel him shatter beneath her hands, to know she’d made him gasp and groan.

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