Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Sure? Of what?
That I want to fuck her all night and into the morning? Yes, I’m certain of that.
But that’s not what she’s asking. Riley isn’t some casual hookup that I’m never going to see again. She’s going to be here tomorrow, making dinner with me and Grace, and the day after that, probably planning some weird outing to see a statue of a dog with a nose that’s nearly smooth from people rubbing it for good luck.
She’s here. She’s a part of us.
And I want her to be.
Is that what she means—can I fuck her tonight and still work with her tomorrow?
“I don’t want you to be a bang nanny.” I scoff, hating the word even as it leaves my lips. “That’s not what this is. Not to me, and if it is to you, then no, we shouldn’t.”
A laughing snort escapes her nose. “Holy shit, Cameron. I didn’t think you’d even know that term. And no, that’s not what I want either.”
I laugh, just a tiny huff of amusement and relief. “I’ve had other nannies… ahem, offer.” Riley gawks at me, her jaw fallen open and eyes wide, and I laugh more fully then. “What? Is that so shocking?”
Shaking her head, she says, “No, not shocking at all, honestly.” Her eyes lick down my body, her desire boldly written on her face. “What do you want, then? Just tonight?”
It’s a loaded question. For anyone else, they’d be asking ‘what are we’ as some sort of ‘we need to define our relationship’ checklist. For Riley, it’s different. I think she’d say she’s taking life as it comes, enjoying the one thing in front of her—me—while she can. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, torturing myself in the process, and it goes deeper than that. She lives in the moment, choosing to only focus on the present, not because she doesn’t believe she won’t get a future, but because she doesn’t think she deserves one.
I can change that.
I can’t promise forever. I learned that doesn’t really exist, and even if it did, I’m too broken for pretty words like that. But I can promise something else to Riley…
I take a step, closing the gap. “I want to be the reason you smile.” Another step. “I want to be the answer when someone asks why you’re happy.” Right in front of her, I push her hair behind her ear and whisper into the space beside the delicate shell, “I want to take care of you the way you take care of everyone else, because you, Riley Stefano, deserve the best this life has to offer.”
A shudder works its way through her entire body.
I lift her chin, bringing her eyes to mine so she hears me. “I am sure.”
The smile that lights across her face is one I think I’ll remember for the rest of my life. It’s pure in a way, unfettered by hopeful innocence but filled with surprise. I almost hate to ruin it, but I do by pressing my lips to hers.
I can feel her happiness, taste her joy, and I want more of both.
Urgency builds between us quickly, the prolonged denial of what we’ve both wanted washing through us, and she lifts to her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck. “There’s no rush,” I tell her between kisses, my voice rough with my own desire as I try to slow us both down. “I intend to take my time, worshiping you the way I’ve dreamed of every fucking day.”
“You dream about me?” There’s a playfulness in her grin that drives me wild.
“You know I do,” I growl, the reminder of how I touched her in my sleep echoing between us. “I dream about bending you over this counter, my hand in your hair as your pussy takes me so good. I dream about spreading you out on the couch upstairs and licking you until you scream. I dream about that mouth of yours wrapped around my cock. Yeah, Riley, you’re all I fucking dream about lately.”
A blush rises on her cheeks with every filthy word I utter, but she doesn’t seem offended. No, she’s excited. “Yes. Yes, to all of that.” She nods vigorously, pointing a blue-tipped finger at my mouth just in case I didn’t know what she meant.
With a glint in my eye, I press a kiss to the pad of her pointing finger and then order, “Turn around.”
She turns in place, folding herself forward over the counter to lay her cheek to the cold surface exactly the way I described. I groan at the vision before me—her profile as she looks back at me, the length of her spine, her hips rounded and stretching the ivory satin of her dress, and her ass begging to be grabbed. I trace my hands down her back, zigzagging here and there, delighting in simply touching her. “There’s a part of me that wants to shove this dress up and take you savagely.”