Page 17 of Nanny for My Billionaire

I decide the best way to keep off that topic is to ratchet up the intensity another notch, and I use my hips to good effect for a minute or two. Eventually, though, Adam hooks his leg around me and flips us around so he can take control. I don’t mind at all, especially when he pulls me up on my knees and gets behind me. Then pounds into me like a jackhammer and milks my orgasm right out.

“Oh, God, Adam, that’s so good!” I practically squeal, and we collapse together and just lay there for a while.

After we’ve come back down from the crazy, I stir from the bed and grab my clothes, heading for my own suite to take a shower. I’m already doubting myself and wondering what the hell I must be thinking to sleep with Adam after telling my sister and his that I wasn’t going to, that my reason for being here was to help the kids, and not to get back with Adam.

Obviously, last night is definitive proof that I’ve not only been lying to Adam, but I’ve also been lying to myself.

I can’t decide if I should immediately tell our sisters what we’ve done, or if it’s something that I’d rather keep to myself for a while. Usually, I tend to tell both Megan and Sara everything, but the idea of them knowing just how far things have gone and scolding me for it doesn’t set well. I’d like to take the time to actually figure out what I want instead of allowing Sara to tell me my next step this time.

I let the water slide over my body as I contemplate, and I realize that I’m smiling. That even though I know Adam can be temperamental, I know he’s a good man, and he’s got a good heart. I’m not ready yet to let go of that, to take a chance on confessing to him. I’m not ready to get myself kicked to the curb over pretending to be some other person.

The real trouble is, I don’t want to deceive him anymore. Not if we’re heading into another dynamic like this. I don’t want my sins further compounded by still being ‘Anna’ while we’re making love. It feels too wrong and unnatural to hear another woman’s name on his lips in such an intimate setting.

I know I need to confess sooner rather than later. Before everything that we’re beginning to build together comes tumbling down. Before I’ve allowed myself to get comfortable instead of remembering that I’m here on borrowed time.

I need to tell Sara what’s happened. Even though I don’t want her making decisions for me, I still need her to help me figure out what to do.

****

The boys have gone into the playroom with their dad to watch some cartoons, and I invite Sara to come with me into the kitchen to help squeeze some lemons and make lemonade. She can already tell that there’s news as we go in, and she casts me a concerned look.

“He seems awfully happy today, Miss,” she says cautiously.

I shrug. “He should be after we were fucking like bunnies all night. Except that’s just left me feeling more guilty than ever because he doesn’t realizewhohe was doing that with, and I feel like it’s wrong to keep lying to him. There’s got to be some way we can fix this without having him cut me off like yesterday’s news.”

“I mean, sex must mean the guy at least likes you a little, right?” says Sara thoughtfully. “He’s not the kind of person who sleeps around, although Anna Thatcher doesn’t know that. But you’re right. We agreed to only do this for a couple of weeks, and it’s already been practically a month. There’s only three more weeks before the boys go to kindergarten, and their life at home ought to be stable when that happens. I hate to say it, but maybe it’s time for us to tell Adam the truth.”

At the same time, we both turn to the sound of a decidedly masculine throat clearing.

“The truth about what?” Adam wants to know.

I cringe, and so does Sara.

“You were supposed to have figured that out yourself by now,” I tell him. “It only started out as a bit of a joke because you didn’t realize who I was, but I—well, I felt like you could really use the help, and I knew you’d probably never accept it from me after the way we argued. I don’t know, I guess I wanted to test the waters, except now it’s just—gotten out of hand. I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Adam looks at me even closer. “Last night, when we were—well, you know what we were doing. I got this crazy idea that you were too familiar. Your taste, your touch. Everything about you felt like—you can’t be, though. How would I not recognize the last person I ever loved?”

“I’m sorry, Adam,” I say softly. “I do look different. My eyes are even a lighter brown, but I didn’t do that on purpose. They sent me the wrong contacts. Anyway, I guess you’re probably going to send me home.”

But I can’t overlook what he said—I’m the last person he ever loved?

He sighs. “You lied to me, Miss. There’s no excuse for it. Of course, I am absolutely sending you home. Now!”

“Okay, then,” I whisper, as tears form in my eyes. “It’s what I deserve, but I sure hope you’ll be able to forgive me for this after a while. I never meant to hurt you, Adam. I was only trying to help you out.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t think about this right now. I need to give all of this some serious thought. This is—it’s almost worse than anything Gena has ever pulled. God, Missy, you’ve really driven a stake through my heart.”

Brushing at my eyes, I hurry upstairs and grab my bags. I’ve mostly kept my things in them since I hadn’t planned on staying long. All I have to do is put in the rest of my clothes and toiletries, and I’m ready to go home.

I know if I step in to say good-bye to the boys, it will only cause trouble, so instead I head down the back stairs and set my things in the back seat of Sara’s car. What next?

Chapter eleven

Adam

Ihavenocluehow to work out odds, but even I know that the odds that my ex-wife would show up at my house just as I had learned that the nanny was actually the woman I’d wanted to marry three years ago were pretty slim. Even slimmer when you factor in that Melissa has just gone upstairs to pack her bags and I hear the knock on the front door at approximately the same time I see Melissa pass by the back window, struggling with all four of her bags.

I glare at Gena’s little red sports car and growl furiously.

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