Page 49 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

“Out here?”

He tensed, then withdrew his hand from under her nightgown, leaving her hot and wet and aching for more. “No.”

He scooped her up, one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and cradled her to his chest as he carried her into the bedroom. He nuzzled her hair off her neck, dropping a lingering kiss on the spot where her shoulder met her collarbone before laying her tenderly on the bed.

Slowly, agonizingly, he undressed her, taking his time to map every inch of skin he exposed with his fingers and tongue, making her breath come in ragged gasps. When he was done, he stood and stripped for her, and she let her eyes feast on him.

His eyes shone soft and warm, the evening breeze had tossed his hair into a sexy, ruffled mess, and she’d never wanted him more. This wasn’t hard-core sex. It wasn’t some casual hookup. It was something altogether different and far more frightening, their connection so acute it was almost painful.

She reached out for him, begging without words. He bent down to pull a condom from the pocket of his shorts, ripped it open, and rolled it down over himself. Then he rejoined her on the bed, gently pushing her back against the pillows.

“Feel what you do to me?” He took her hand and laid it flat against his chest. The rapid staccato of his heartbeat under her palm almost matched hers. “Here.”

He moved her hand lower, between his thighs. “And here.”

Words couldn’t describe the torrent of emotions whirling inside her, so she didn’t bother to try. Instead she kissed him, without hurry, without pressure, without uneasiness about the future or dwelling on the past. This kiss was slow, thoughtful, controlled. Two people with all the time in the world to touch, to taste, to bask in each other’s body.

When they had stoked the heat between them from an ember to an inferno, he entered her with torturous slowness. The slick sounds of their lovemaking mingled with the gentle lapping of the surf, the two rhythms matching and becoming one. She was torn between wanting the sweet sensations to go on forever and desperately needing release. She held on as long as she could until she lost control, opening her mouth in a silent scream as she spasmed around him. He went next, grunting out his orgasm, his cries echoing into the still night.

Gradually, his movements slowed. She coiled herself around him like she might float away if she wasn’t anchored to something—to someone. He rested his chin on her head and they lay there like that, spent and sated, until their breathing slowed and their heartbeats returned to normal.

“I know my timing sucks,” he said finally, his breath stirring her hair. “But I’ve got some bad news.”

“You’re not dumping me, are you?” she teased, planting a kiss in the center of his sweat-slicked chest.

“No.” He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, his hand remaining to cup the back of her head. “But you might want to dump me.”

“Not likely.”

The hand at the back of her head tangled in her hair, massaging the nape of her neck. “Collins and the Flannigans know.”

“Know what?”

“About us.”

“What?” She pushed against his chest, but he held firm, his arms tightening around her like steel bands.

“Relax.”

“How?”

“Take deep breaths and let your muscles go limp.”

“No, I mean how did they find out?”

“Mrs. Flannigan saw you leaving my room this morning.”

Heat flooded her face. “How am I ever going to face her?”

“If it makes you feel any better, we have their approval.” He stroked her back, warm tingles following the path of his hand. “They think you’re good for me.”

“How can you be so calm?” She tried to pull away again. He loosened his hold slightly but kept her close. “Everyone knows I’m screwing the boss.”

Even as she said it, the word tasted wrong in her mouth. Sharp. Bitter.

“This.” He waved a hand between them. “What we just did. That was not screwing.”

“Then what are we doing?” she whispered.