Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
But it’s hard to imagine leaving the Kate household anytime soon.
I am way too gone on their dad. He’s so hot in every possible way that I can barely go ten minutes without daydreaming about him inside me. Or daydreaming about how much fun I have with him and the girls. Or daydreaming about what it would be like to be cheering him on from the stands as more than his nanny.
As his girlfriend or…something more serious than a girlfriend.
It’s crazy. I’m crazy and getting way ahead of myself.
We haven’t even told anyone that we’re dating. We agreed it’s best to pretend we’re just friends whose nanny-boss relationship sadly didn’t work out, due to him needing more overnight hours than my “burgeoning music career” would allow.
My music career is definitely more “idling” than “burgeoning,” but it’s a decent excuse. His teammates seem to have bought it. Even Blue and Beatrice accepted the explanation with nothing more than a “bummer, it seemed like such a good fit, too,” text, and an offer to let me move back to their place if the rent at Dean’s got to be too much to manage.
I didn’t like lying to them about paying rent. Or about Dean. But he refuses to let me pay him a dime, and we’re not ready to explain what we are just yet.
I’m not sure we even know, honestly.
All we know is that we can’t keep our damned hands to ourselves, a thing he proves as I step out onto the roof. He’s waiting right by the door, next to a stunning view of the city lit up at night, ready to pull me into his arms.
“Is this okay? Is there anyone else up here?” I ask, but I don’t wait for him to answer before looping my fingers around his neck. My self-control is non-existent with this man, and it’s chilly up here. I tell myself that’s why I can’t help snuggling my chest tight to his.
“Not a soul,” he says, kissing me with the words. “Guess it’s too cold for the smokers tonight.”
I smile against his lips. “No, the smokers are out on the balcony downstairs. Maybe no one else knows about the roof.”
He pulls back, his eyes dancing as his palms skim down to grip my bottom in both hands, sending a zing of arousal across my skin. “Good. I’ve been dying to squeeze your ass all night. This dress is…”
“Nice?” I supply, grinning up at him.
“So nice. So much better than nice. You look like a mermaid fresh out of water. Still all sparkly and wet.”
“Wet is definitely a thing when I’m around you,” I murmur. “But at least I’m wearing panties tonight. I found my thong.”
He wrinkles his nose and curses, making me laugh.
“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I plan on letting you take it off me later.”
“Can’t fucking wait,” he says, sounding like he means it. “How’s the party? Having a good time?”
“Yeah, it’s been fun, but I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”
“I’m ready,” he says. “Want to hit that cocktail bar I was telling you about? It’s maybe a ten-or fifteen-minute walk. We wouldn’t have to call a cab.”
“Sure, sounds good,” I say, even though I’d rather head home and straight to bed. But we should probably try the “dating” part of dating, not just the getting naked part.
Deep down, however, I’m a little afraid the dating part will make this feel more real. Maybe even real enough to shock me out of my sex-induced stupor and remind me how far out of bounds I am right now.
Dean pulls back, gazing down at me with a more serious expression. “We don’t have to go to a bar, if you don’t want. We could go for dessert or something.”
I nod, assuring him, “Whatever’s fine. I’m not picky, I’m just…” Just still not stepmother material. Still not sure what I’m doing. Still afraid I’m breaking the rules in a dumb way, not a fun way. Aloud, I add, “Just a little tired. It’s been a big day.”
His eyes narrow. “Really?”
“Really,” I lie.
“Anyone ever tell you that your nostrils flare when you’re fibbing?”
My lips twitch as the irony of the observation hits full force. “Yeah, they have. My stepmother, actually. Couldn’t get a thing past old Rhonda.”
His brows lift. “Ah, I see. Your tone makes me think that wasn’t a good thing.”
“Nope.”
“And is that maybe at least a part of why you don’t want to date a guy with kids?” he asks gently as he holds up a hand, fingers and thumb held at an inch distance. “An itty-bitty part?”
“Could be,” I confess.
Whelp. Looks like—ready or not—the universe has decided we’re going to have this conversation.
I move out of his arms, wandering over to the railing, grateful for the chill in the air. Talking about Rhonda always gets me hot in a way that’s not nearly as fun as getting worked up with Dean.