Not Just the Nanny Page 8

  Right now, something was in the room with them for sure. Desire. Need. Sex.

  She was so damn irresistible, with her shiny blond hair, her sweet scent, her lovely eyes that he’d been staring into all night long. “God, Kayla.”

  “Mick…” Her gaze heated and he saw the same yearning on her face.

  He cupped her head in his big hands. She made a sound low in her throat, and then there was no more thinking or considering or even second-guessing. Her mouth, so soft and luscious-looking, was impossible to turn away from. He found himself taking it, taking her into his arms, feeling her female shape against his body, tasting the warm, wet flavor of her mouth. God. God.

  The quiet tightened around them. Their kiss deepened and she melted along his hard frame. The surrender of it galvanized him. Desire speared through him, a flame that burned and fired his need. His hands tightening on her, he backed her toward her room.

  Her bed.

  Once beside it, he had to be sure. “Kayla?”

  “Yes,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “I told you I need a little recklessness in my life.”

  Chapter Seven

  A woman could want a warm body in her bed on her birthday, right? That it was technically the night before her birthday didn’t matter. That it was technically Mick Hanson, not just some warm body, didn’t matter, either.

  Who was she kidding? That it was Mick Hanson only made it the best present ever.

  She ignored any twinges of concern that this would change things forever between them. It didn’t need to. And anyway, who could predict forever? Nothing was predictable except that at this moment she couldn’t move away from Mick.

  His mouth trailed across her cheek and down her neck, inciting goose bumps and then chasing them with his tongue. Her pulse thrummed and her body shivered against his. “Cold?” he whispered.

  She shook her head and ran her hands up his chest. His muscles, those hard muscles that she’d been watching for years as he walked half-naked up the stairway to his shower, hardened against her palm. She crowded closer, unable to help herself from pushing her belly against the stone strength of his sex. He groaned, his hips pushing back against hers. “Kayla, sweetheart. I want to take this slowly.”

  “No,” she murmured, drawing his mouth back to hers. “Now. More.” As sure that she couldn’t predict forever, she also couldn’t predict past the single instants ahead—the next kiss and then the next touch. If they lingered, she was afraid something would interrupt—conscience, kids, a call from the fire station.

  The fragility of this moment, like a bath bubble floating in the air, only made her heart pump faster. Her mouth opened under his and her hands drew along the cotton of his shirt to his buttons. They clumsily unfastened them.

  I ironed this shirt, she realized. She’d hung the pants he’d take off to take her. The thought made her fingers fumble. What was so familiar—his clothes, his body, his voice—would all take on a different kind of familiarity once they took this step.

  The turn of her mind must have telegraphed to him. He lifted his head, his gaze trained on her face, his mouth curved in a half smile. With his thumb, he traced the wet surface of her bottom lip. “I want you,” he said. “But only if—”

  “I want you, too,” she interrupted, determined again. She made a second awkward attack on his buttons.

  He chuckled, a soft, sexy sound, then pushed her fingers away. “I’ll do that.”

  “Okay.” She reached for the zipper at the back of her dress.

  His hand captured hers. “I’ll do that, too.”

  In fact, he did it first. His mouth came back to the side of her neck as his fingers latched on to the tab of her zipper. The rasp of it sliding down sounded loud in the dark. Air touched her spine as the sides of her dress parted, and it felt like a succession of cool kisses. More of them tickled across her shoulders as Mick pushed the fabric over them and it dropped to the ground.

  He shifted back to stare at her body.

  Cool turned hot as she saw his gaze move over her white lacy bra and matching panties. With her high-heeled black boots, she supposed she didn’t look much like a nanny at the moment. “Mick…” she whispered, shaking.

  His callused palm cupped her cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, then let that raspy skin move down her neck, across her throat and around to her fabric-covered breast. He rested his hand there a moment, and she felt her nipple tighten against the slight pressure as her heart pounded in insistence.

  “Mick…” she said again, a longing note in her voice.

  His fingers slid beneath her bra, the tips just brushing the aching center. She swayed toward him, anxious, needy, so ready for more. “Mick.”

  He took his touch away. She swallowed her moan because he reached around to unlatch her bra. It fell to the ground, the white startling against the shiny leather of her black boots. His gaze followed hers to the sight, then moved upward slowly, past her calves, her trembling knees, her thighs. His hand joined in, caressing her flank, then catching on the elastic edge at the top of her panties.

  Just that, and melting heat flooded between her legs. She felt her flesh soften and swell. He stared at his long fingers as they toyed there, rubbing the lace, then sliding beneath to the tender skin covering her hipbone.

  Kayla couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think beyond hurry. Hurry, hurry.

  But Mick was still in slow motion, and apparently mesmerized by his own hand or the feel of her flesh beneath it or both. Then he stepped close again. His cloth-covered chest brushed against her tightened nipples as he took her mouth in another possessive kiss. Both hands slid beneath her panties to grasp the globes of her bottom. She pressed herself against his erection, giving in to the kiss, giving everything she had to him.

  Her panties skimmed down her thighs. At his urging, she found herself stepping out of them. Then he broke the kiss and moved away once more, and she realized she was naked—except for her knee-high black boots.

  She wasn’t the nanny anymore.

  And she figured that’s exactly what Mick wanted.

  Even though she was as turned on as she’d been a moment before, she felt herself relax. Okay. Okay. From the avid look on his face, this wasn’t something she had to rush through before the Cinderella spell was broken and they found themselves fully clothed and washing dishes or sweeping floors.

  On a slow turn, she reached for the covers on the bed to draw them back. She could feel Mick’s gaze on her backside, and she let herself picture what he did—her pale skin gleaming in the light filtering from the hall, her black boots with their darker, naughtier shine. The image paralyzed her for a moment, and then Mick was behind her, the crispness of his clothes brushing her shoulder blades and her bottom. His hand caressed her hip.

  “I’ll never look at boots the same way again,” he said.

  She titled her head to rest against his shoulder. He hadn’t said he’d never look at her the same way again, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, it was Kayla’s birthday and he was her gift of the night.

  His palms covered her breasts. With a gentle touch, he molded them, exploring their weight. When his thumbs brushed her nipples, she whimpered.

  He kissed his way down her neck and his fingers plucked at those ruched tips, each little pinch tighter than the one before. She pushed back with her hips, loving the scrape of cloth against her, but wanting him naked even more. Her hands moved behind her and she yanked the tails of his shirt from his waistband.

  “Get naked,” she whispered, deciding a girl in black boots could give an order or two.

  He laughed again, his breath warm against her throat. “If you get on the bed.”

  She did so, eagerly. He shed his shirt first. It fell on top of her discarded clothes and the mere symbolism of it goosed her with a little sexual thrill. His eyes narrowed at the shiver that ran through her. She thought his breathing moved in and out a little faster.

  Then his hands shifted
to the fastening of his pants. It took only a moment for him to shuck the rest of his clothing, and she was glad for it, because she couldn’t find air in the time it took for him to get completely naked. Her heart shut down in anticipation. She’d seen him from the waist up. She’d seen him from the knees down. But now she had it all, including his long, muscled thighs and the matching erection already in its fully aroused state.

  He set a condom on the bedside table—had it been in his wallet? His pocket?—then he crawled onto the bed, and her heartbeat restarted. Operating on instinct, she parted her thighs and he fastened his gaze on her slick center as he moved closer. “Kayla,” he said, and two of his fingers reached out to skate over the swollen flesh. “You’re so beautiful all over.”

  She was burning, that was sure. As he played with her drenched tissues, she sank deeper into the pillows. Her thighs opened wider, giving him more access. A finger slid inside and she gasped, her hips bowing. Mick glanced up. “I promise I won’t hurt you. Just open up for me, baby.”

  He eased a second finger inside and the fit was tight. Deliciously tight. She writhed against them and then writhed some more as his thumb nudged the bud at the top of her sex. “Mick.” Her head thrashed on the pillows and she reached out to palm his shoulder. “Please.”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “I’ll please you.” And then he moved over her, taking a nipple in his mouth as his fingers continued to fondle her sex.

  Her fists gripped the sheets. He plumped the other breast with his free hand and she went wild at the different caresses: the wet suction of his mouth, the tender touch on her breast, the insistent impalement of his thrusting hand and that arousing, knowing thumb.

  When his mouth switched to her other nipple, when his fingers thrust and his thumb pressed one time, a second, she pushed into those maddening touches…and came.

  Maybe he was maddened, too, because just as her quakes turned into shivers he slid his hand away and impaled her with something else instead. But he was going slow again, entering her in increments of inches, taking his time to fully seat himself. When he was inside her all the way, he groaned, and came down on her mouth in a hot kiss, his tongue thrusting.

  She wrapped her legs around him, the leather of her boots sliding against his hips. It was another image she’d take with her forever and she held it in her mind as their bodies rocked into sweet, sweet oblivion.

  When it was over, he rolled to the pillow beside her, and then rolled her against his side. She put her head on his shoulder and listened to the thudding beat of his heart. His hand made soothing passes along her upper arm as her gaze found the bedside clock. Midnight.

  Happy birthday, she mouthed to herself. Yes, indeed, you gave yourself quite the present.

  And she didn’t regret a moment of it, even as things he’d said and promises she’d made to herself came back to her.

  He’d said: I’ll please you.

  She’d thought: Having sex wouldn’t change things between them.

  He’d said: I’ll never hurt you.

  Ah, well. Of the three, she suspected only the first would stand the test of time.

  In the morning, Kayla awoke to an empty bed and the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. Maybe it had been a dream, she thought for a moment, but then she spied her boots, left right where Mick had tossed them last night after they’d made love and before he’d pulled the covers around them.

  Her skin heated at the memories and she wondered exactly how to handle this morning-after business. Without hiding, she decided, getting up and heading for the shower. She was twenty-seven and old enough, woman enough, not to slink around like she was ashamed or embarrassed. Checking herself in the mirror, she didn’t blush at the fact that the pink shirt she wore with jeans was one button lower than usual, that she’d double-coated her mascara or that her mouth was still so red from his kisses that she didn’t need lipstick.

  Her head was high as she walked into the kitchen.

  But her heart sank. Because there he was, like a hundred times before and yet it was like no other time before. His back was to her as he worked at the stove while wearing another pair of worn jeans and a ratty T-shirt that she should have consigned to the rag bag ages ago.

  I could just rip it off him right now, she thought. Smooth over this morning-after business by smoothing her hands up the muscles of his back, only to smooth them down the front of his chest to the fastening of his pants.

  Perhaps she made some sort of sound at that, because he glanced over his shoulder. Smiled.

  “Sleepyhead.” He said it fondly, as if she was Jane or Lee. “Happy birthday.” Then he pushed a mug of hot coffee in her hand and pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table.

  Unsure what else to do, she sat, then couldn’t help her own smile when he served her a breakfast plate: bacon, wheat toast, a pile of sunny scrambled eggs topped by a pink birthday candle.

  Who wouldn’t be in love with that? With him.

  She was in love with Mick. She’d admitted that to herself over a week ago. Even though she didn’t believe he reciprocated those feelings, that didn’t mean they couldn’t explore this new territory of their relationship, right? She’d gone into it as a one-night stand and she’d been afraid it would alter what they already had together…but was that such a bad thing? Couldn’t they have an affair with the hope that it might lead to more?

  She was old enough, woman enough, to express that plainly, right?

  He was staring at her. “Well?”

  Oh, God. Was she supposed to blurt it out right now, right here, over scrambled eggs and strawberry jam? “Um…what?”

  “Well, aren’t you going to make a wish?”

  “Oh.” She relaxed against the back of the chair. “Sure.” Closing her eyes, she tried formulating words that would express her greatest hope and her greatest fear.

  Don’t let what I say ruin anything.

  The wish wasn’t perfectly precise, but she blew out the birthday candle anyway.

  Mick took the seat across from hers, and just as if it was any other day, he handed her the front section of the newspaper and picked up the sports page for himself. The only thing missing was the kids squabbling over who got the prize in the cereal box. Now it was her turn to stare. Did he really expect it to go like this?

  After a moment, he glanced up. A wry smile flashed over his face. “Sorry. Am I doing it wrong? I’m not well-practiced in mornings-after.”

  “That makes both of us.” She tried out her own little smile.

  He folded up his section of newspaper. “Maybe we can muddle along together.”

  “We’ve managed to do that for the last six years, I guess.” Surely they could muddle their way into an affair and then…

  “Yeah.” But his expression closed and he glanced away from her. “Kayla…”

  Her belly hopped at the note of regret in his voice. She swallowed, though, determined to not let this chance pass by. “Let’s be honest with each other, Mick.”

  “All right. I think that’s a good idea.”

  “I know last night I said I wanted to be reckless, but it…” She was losing her nerve. “It didn’t feel reckless with you.”

  He reached across the table for her hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment. You mean a lot to me, Kayla.”

  It wasn’t exactly a declaration on the scale of what she wanted to say to him, but still she steeled herself to put her heart on the line. “And Mick—”

  “That’s why I feel so guilty.”

  She stilled. “Guilty?”

  “Guilty,” he confirmed. “I’ve known something for more than a week, after a talk I had with Patty Bright. She, uh, told me something about you.”

  Heat washed up Kayla’s throat. Patty Bright was a nice woman who had been close to Mick’s wife. Had she detected Kayla’s feelings for her friend’s husband? It was one thing for her to tell him herself, but what if the two of them had been talking about the lovesick nanny? Maybe even laughin
g about the lovesick nanny.

  Her stomach churned. “I don’t know what she could know about me,” she said. “We’re only casual acquaintances.”

  Mick grimaced. “She knows you better than you might think.”

  So Patty had told Mick that Kayla had feelings for him and now he felt guilty because last night he’d come to her bed out of…what? Pity? At the thought, Kayla rocketed to her feet. “I think you’ve got the situation entirely wrong.” To hell with honesty. And she didn’t need to sit here and be humiliated. “I have to…get going. Do something. Visit my family.”

  He raised an eyebrow at the blatant lie. “What’s got you running, honey?”

  “I don’t like Patty discussing me.” Kayla’s voice was as hot as her face.

  “Only because she didn’t want to poach without giving me a heads-up first.”

  “Huh?” Wait. “What?”

  Mick sighed. “Sit down?”

  Confused, she returned to her seat. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “Because I’ve been holding back on you.” He took a breath, blew it out. “Here goes. Patty wants you to go to work for her family.”

  That cleared up nothing. “I have a job. Here.”

  “But the Bright family has an opportunity to spend several months in Europe. They thought you might see it as an opportunity for yourself, as well.”

  Kayla blinked. Europe? With another family? Leave Mick and Jane and Lee?

  We should be thinking about getting a new Kayla.

  Now she thought she understood what he’d meant by that. And why he’d been floating the thought by the kids. If she went to work for the Brights, then the Hanson family would need her replacement.

  But no one could replace Mick and the kids in her life!

  “Is that what you want?” Even though her heart was going at a jackhammer pace, her voice sounded steady to her own ears. “For me to leave you?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them. “What I want, Kayla, is…” His palm swiped across his face. “Look—”