Shit.
I don’t remember shoving them in my pocket, but she had called me from the bathroom, and I may have inadvertently snatched them in a rush to make sure that she didn’t need my help.
Oh.
I am a panty thief!
Airplane girl is never going to let me live it down.
Clare bends forward, opens the dryer, and retrieves her shirt. With her back to me, she slides her arms into the material and spins around, the view no longer nearly as sexy.
I stifle the whimper of disappointment.
What the hell is wrong with me? This woman is a menace. I run a hand through my hair and take a step back. I need air. And an ice-cold shower. Ever since opening her luggage and stumbling through her panties, bras, and pink vibrator, my cock has been aching.
I breeze out of the room, letting her finish her laundry. Hopefully, she doesn’t break my damn washing machine. It’s not like I can’t afford a new one, but that isn’t the point. She should be respectful of my property and my things.
I’m careful not to wake a sleeping Amelia as I stumble off into my bedroom and shut the door. I head for my private bathroom, strip down and turn the water on hot.
A cold shower isn’t going to help tonight. I’ll just be tormented with dreams of Clare, which I don’t need.
I want to release this pent-up frustration and move on.
Standing under the tepid water, I roll my neck from side to side, letting the tension release.
I crank the water hotter.
My body is on fire, and the only way to satisfy the urges building inside of me is to match the heat. I stand under the spray, the water beating down on me. With one hand, I stroke my shaft, the other, I rest against the cold tile wall. The extreme hot to cold is like ice on a raging fire. Steam pelts and sizzles.
I don’t want to think about Clare or her gorgeous tits that were encased in the purple lacy bra.
Fuck.
It’s the only thing I can think about as I stroke my shaft and imagine her taking my cock into her mouth. My fingers wrapped in her hair, fucking her pouty lips.
I let the orgasm wash over me, as the shower hides the evidence. I finish in the stall, turn the water off before it gets cold and grab a fluffy white towel to dry off.
Yeah, I had plenty of towels in the hall closet and my bathroom. But I didn’t want to give her one.
I was being a dick.
Payback’s a bitch. Isn’t that how it goes?
I wrap the towel around my waist and head into my bedroom to grab a clean pair of boxers to change into before bed.
She’s all I think about, with her blue-green eyes and long blonde hair. She could easily be mistaken for Amelia’s mother. Hell, I can’t believe in my overtiredness and emotional exhaustion that I almost referred to her as “Mommy”.
What the hell is wrong with me?
How has she managed to get under my skin in a matter of a couple of hours? Which happens to fall in the longest week of my life?
First, Amelia is thrust into my life. Now, Clare. No, it has to stop. I won’t let it go any farther. She’s just a fantasy. The girl is too young. What I feel isn’t real. I don’t know her. She’s a woman who needed a job, and she’s clearly good with Amelia.
One week.
I’ll get her out of my house and never see her again.
I just need to hire another nanny, one who’s even better. That shouldn’t be too hard after I have my assistant weed through the gold diggers and nannies looking to land a billionaire husband.