“Look, let’s just move on,” I said. “We just have to remember that you’re here to take care of Lizzie, so we need to keep our arrangement strictly business. No more…you know…”
“I understand,” she said with a smile that had a twinge of sadness to it. Was she as disappointed as I was that we were calling a moratorium on our mutual masturbation?
Had she lain awake all night wondering what it would be like to fuck me the way I wondered what it would be like to fuck her?
My eyes drifted to her lips.
She ran her tongue over them.
They were full and pink and longing to be kissed…
GODDAMN IT, JACKSON!
She went back to feeding Lizzie.
I took a deep breath and picked up my fork.
I filled my mouth with eggs so there would be no room to insert my foot.
CHAPTER TEN: Amy Lynne
The next few days were both wonderful and frustrating.
Wonderful because I had bonded with Lizzie and loved being her nanny.
Wonderful because I was being paid a fortune for doing something I had grown to love.
Wonderful because I got to live in a mansion.
And wonderful because I got to spend time with Jackson and had gotten to know him better. He seemed like such a warm, caring man. I couldn’t imagine why his wife ever would have cheated on him.
Then again, I’m not na?ve. I know there are two sides to every story. I know nothing about Jackson’s dead wife or their marriage.
I do know that women rarely cheat for sex.
They cheat because they are not being fulfilled in some way, or are being ignored, or being abused and looking for comfort in the arms of another.
I’ll probably never know the real reason why Jackson’s wife felt the need to cheat on him, though I can’t imagine it being totally his fault.
Compared to my ex, Randy, Jackson was just… wonderful.
There was one thing that bothered me about Jackson Ritter and that was that he worked from home, so he was always there.
Okay, that didn’t bother me exactly, but it flustered me because I was finding myself becoming more attracted to him as the days went by. There were times when our hands would touch or our eyes would meet and there would be a spark between us, like static electricity crossing from his body into mine. He felt it, too. I know he did by the way he looked at me in that split-second. It wasn’t something either of us acknowledged out loud, but it was there all the same.
Having to behave myself was hard, especially when he could start my water works just by looking into my eyes. Every time I glanced his way I imagined him naked on the bed with his cock in his hand. I had to keep reminding myself: it’s a job, he’s your boss, you’re here for his daughter, not for him or yourself.
So we were cordial to each other.
We chatted and laughed a lot.
He smiled a little more each day.
We sat across the table from one another and sat on the floor playing games with Lizzie.
But we never touched.
When my hand brushed his, he’d pull his away.
When we bumped into each other in the hallway, I plastered myself to the wall to let him pass.
I struggled to resist the urge to sneak into his room at night.
I forced myself not to go into his bathroom when he was taking a shower.
My only release was lying in bed late at night and making myself cum, imagining it was his lips on my breasts and his cock inside me.
Wonderful, yet frustrating. Wonderfully frustrating…
I wasn’t sure how long my abstinence could last.
*
I put Lizzie to bed and went back downstairs to see if Jackson needed anything before I called it a night. He was in his study with the door closed.
I knocked lightly on the door and called his name, but he didn’t respond. I tapped on the door again. When he didn’t answer, I turned the knob and opened the door enough to peer inside.
Jackson was sitting in his chair at his writing desk. He had fallen asleep. I tiptoed toward him and was about to put my hand on his shoulder when I glanced at the computer monitor on the desk.
On the screen was a Word document.
The words “Chapter One” were at the top of the page.
The rest of the page was blank.
“I can’t write anymore,” Jackson said quietly. I glanced down to find him awake. He was staring at the blank page with a look of sadness in his eyes.
“I thought having you here to watch Lizzie would allow me to focus on my writing, but I was just fooling myself,” he said. “Lizzie isn’t the reason I haven’t written a book in two years. My well has just run dry, I’m afraid. I’ll probably never write again.”
“But you’re a great writer,” I said. “I don’t understand.”
He glanced up and gave me a soft smile. “Putting the words on paper is the easy part. Thinking up those words is what’s difficult.” He nodded at the blank page. “I’ve sat here for two years staring at that screen. It’s no use. I’m afraid the muse has deserted me.”
The look of sadness in his eyes was more than I could bear.
My heart was breaking for him.
Even though he hadn’t been in the wreck that had killed his wife, he’d been critically injured nonetheless.