This was so not going to work.
“Actually, I think I better put Dylan down for a nap,” I muttered, then scooped up the baby and hauled her upstairs like I was sprinting for my own touchdown. She babbled a little and I heard my friends cheer from downstairs, but I kissed the top of her head and laid her in the crib all the same.
Damn, I seriously hadn’t thought anything through today. It was close to her naptime, but even if she slept, they would wake her in a matter of minutes. Football and babies might not mix. We were going to have to move the Sunday game ritual to a new location.
One that didn’t include my boys seeing my smoking-hot nanny in her bathing suit.
As an image of that tight little ass filled my mind again, I groaned, wishing I hadn’t seen her either. What the fuck was I going to do about Addison?
I had a few ideas, of course, but most of those involved restraints and scented massage oils.
In the hall, I heard her bedroom door click shut and I waited for a long moment, weighing my options. But how many times could I do this—over and over again and still coming to the same result? It wasn’t working. None of this was working.
I marched to her door and knocked hard.
After a slight pause, she called, “Come in.”
When I walked inside, she was wearing a fluffy pink robe that stopped just above her knees. Her swimsuit was on the floor in front of her, and my mind was momentarily sidetracked by the fact that I knew she was naked beneath her robe.
All I would have to do was walk toward her and open that belt, let the fabric slide to the floor, and then . . .
An ache of need rushed to my groin, and my jaw ticked. “This isn’t going to work,” I said, clenching my hands at my side. This was a shit thing to do. I knew it, but damned if I could stop myself.
“I . . . I don’t know what you mean.” She shook her head. “I just—”
“This. You working here. It just isn’t going to work.”
“Wait, I don’t understand.” She searched my face, her wide eyes glassy with a rush of tears. “Did I do something wrong?”
What could I possibly say? No. I just can’t control the insatiable desire to fuck your brains out.
I stared at her, my blood still pumping as I tried to frame a coherent response.
“If you’re still mad that I took Dylan out the other night without texting, I told you, I’d—”
“Not Dylan,” I cut in, spearing my fingers through my hair in agitation. “You’re great with her. It’s just . . .”
With the groan of a man on the edge, I lunged at her, sweeping her into my arms and crushing my mouth to hers. It was the space of an instant, but it didn’t matter. Feeling her lips on mine, the sweet mint of her breath, the heat of her skin, it was all complete perfection.
She froze, and for a second, I wondered if she would pull away. It would be for the best, and I’d been such an asshole to her, I more than deserved her rejection. But just as I was about to release her, her lips parted and she molded her body to mine. If we went even one step further, I would be completely lost. We needed to talk first, and then?
Well, I’d see how things played out. I pulled away, the breath sawing in and out of my lungs even as my cock pulsed with need.
“It’s not your fault, Addison. It’s mine. I’m attracted to you in a way I’ve never felt before. Hell, I can’t even think about seeing you in that bikini without wanting to fuck you senseless.”
Her breath caught. I was still holding her, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts against my chest, and though her eyes widened, she made no move to step away.
“And then, after you told me the story about your ex and how he shook your confidence—” I shook my head, trying to loosen the words sticking to the insides of my brain. “All I can seem to think about is showing you exactly how much I want you.”
She blinked up at me once, then twice, and I traced my thumb along the side of her cheek, willing her to keep looking at me, to give in, to confess what she wanted.
Electricity crackled between us and I held my breath, waiting for it to ignite a fire. Instead, Addison disentangled herself from me and tightened the knot of her robe.
“But you’re my boss, Max. I know I haven’t been here long, but I love your daughter and I don’t want to lose this job if things get . . . sticky. So, where does that leave us?” She was practically breathless, her cheeks flushed, and she glanced down at the floor rather than look at me.
But I was done with that—done with playing cat and mouse.
I took another step toward her and tucked my fingers under her chin, turning her gaze to me. “I’m your boss Monday through Friday from nine to five. The rest of the time, we’re a man and a woman.”
She sniffed, pulling her chin away. “You’re not serious.”