And he’s inescapable; I’m trapped on an airplane with my hot billionaire boss.
Damn him!
“You didn’t answer my question.” He stares at me, almost like he’s looking right into my soul. With one hand, he brushes a few strands of hair from my face. His other hand is latched to my hip, teasing me, grazing the hem between my shirt and pants.
I lean into his touch.
“A few … months,” I whisper, and pray he isn’t about to make fun of me. I didn’t even like sex that much with my husband. It was a chore, like a duty of marriage on special occasions. “When I was married.”
He wasthatbad in bed that I wanted it over and done with and not a minute sooner than necessary.
“A girl who’s not afraid of commitment. I like it,” he says, and leans down, closer to my lips. “You’re trembling.”
I hate that he notices. That he can make my head swoon and my body weak and uncontrollable.
“Am not,” I say, and clear my throat, trying to sound convincing, but it’s obvious I’m nervous. Why isn’t he nervous? Does he do this with all the girls who work for him?
He pulls me with him to sit on one of the seats, keeping me in his lap.
It feels weird, to be sitting on my boss’s lap on his private jet. I tug my lip between my teeth.
“I like you, Clare, a lot.” He’s calm, far calmer than I feel. “But if you’re not ready or don’t want to, I’d never force you.”
Is that what he thinks?
I swallow my fears and grip the lapels of his shirt, crushing his lips with mine. I want to kiss him. I definitely desire every inch of him. I’m just not typically great at making the first move, or even the second. I freeze. Panic. My nerves steal me away and tend to screw everything up.
It takes a second for his brain to register that I’m kissing him, because he doesn’t kiss me back. I gasp and begin to pull back, but his hold on me tightens.
His lips envelop mine, hard and warm, seeking entrance with his tongue as he glides it over my teeth, wanting in. I get the feeling that’s not the only thing he wants inside of me.
I moan with the intensity of the kiss, and my stomach flutters, chasing butterflies.
He is everything and more than I’ve ever dreamt up.
And for the first time, I don’t care that I’m the nanny, and this isn’t something a good nanny would do.
Screw the rules.
Fuck boundaries.
Lines are meant to be crossed.
NINE
Levi
Damn, kissing Clare is like paradise. I knew it’d be good, but I didn’t realize how amazing until we started, and I don’t want to let go.
Her warm body is on my lap, my fingers trailing across her hip, teasing her skin, touching her.
I crave more, but my daughter is just a few feet away, and I can’t have her catching the two of us making out.
She’ll ask questions, and I’m not ready to give them to a five-year-old.
Has she even had the ‘where do babies come from’ speech? That is not something I want to deal with now or possibly ever.
Clare’s hips rock against mine, our kisses fervent and unending. My fingers tangle in her hair, bruising her lips.