Page 97 of Clinically Delicious
“Even though I’m Megan’s nanny?”
“Even though.”
“Even though this is complicated and probably a terrible idea?”
“Even though.”
She turned in my arms, and I loosened my hold so she could face me. Her hair was a mess, her lips swollen from kissing, her eyes still heavy with sleep and satisfaction.
She was beautiful.
“I’m all in too,” she said quietly. “I just—I don’t want to mess this up. Any of it. You, Megan, this job.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” I said, my hand coming up to cup her face. “Because I’m not going to let you.”
She searched my face, looking for something—doubt, maybe, or hesitation. She wouldn’t find it. Whatever this was between us, it was real. It was terrifying and complicated and probably the most impulsive thing I’d done in years. But it was real. And I wasn’t letting it go.
“Okay,” she whispered finally.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
I kissed her slow and deep, and felt her melt against me. When I pulled back, she was smiling. “What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just—this is really happening.”
“It is.”
“You’re my boss.”
“I’m aware.”
“And I’m your daughter’s nanny.”
“Also aware.”
“And we just had sex. Twice. In less than twelve hours.”
“Your point?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “No point. Just—processing.”
“Process later,” I said, pulling her closer. “We still have forty-five minutes before Megan wakes up.”
“What are we going to do for forty-five minutes?”
I kissed her neck and felt her shiver. “I have some ideas.”
“Of course you do.”
“Problem?”
“No,” she breathed as my hand slid down her side. “Definitely not a problem.”
“Good.”
We had forty-five minutes.
I intended to use every single one of them.
