Page 11 of Demon Daddy’s Nanny (Demon Daddies #3)

11

EVA

I stare at the dough in front of me, but my hands won't move. The morning sun streams through the kitchen windows, casting golden light across the wooden countertop where just hours ago...

My fingers brush over the spot where his hands pressed into the dough. Heat crawls up my neck at the memory of his broad chest nearly touching my back, his wings creating a curtain around us as he leaned in. The air had crackled between us, charged with something I'm afraid to name.

I close my eyes but that only makes it worse. Now all I can picture is the way his jaw clenched when I adjusted his grip on the dough, how his golden eyes darkened when I turned to face him. He'd been so close. Close enough that I caught the scent of leather and spice that clings to his skin, close enough that I saw the slight roughness of stubble along that scar on his cheek.

"Dammit." I slam my palms on the counter. I'm acting like some lovesick fool, mooning over a man who would never look twice at a human. Even if last night felt...different. Even if his fingers had lingered on mine longer than necessary. Even if he'd started to lean down, his lips parting...

The dough sits forgotten as I pace the kitchen. I need to get myself under control. Xaphan don't kiss their servants, and they certainly don't kiss humans. Whatever I thought I saw in his eyes last night was probably just shadows from the lamplight. Or worse - pity.

But my traitorous mind keeps wandering back to his hands, so much larger than mine, and how gentle they became when I showed him how to work the dough. How the hard lines of his face softened when he concentrated on the task. The way his wings twitched when our fingers brushed...

I press my hands to my burning cheeks. This is ridiculous. I have work to do, Annalise will be awake soon, and I can't spend all morning fantasizing about kissing her father.

Even if I desperately want to know if his lips would be as warm as his eyes were last night.

A knock at my door startles me from my thoughts.

"Eva! Are you coming?" Annalise's voice carries through the wood, impatient as always.

I hurry to open it, finding her already dressed in a flowing silver gown that matches her eyes. She bounces on her toes, that restless energy of hers impossible to contain.

"Sorry, I was just..." The lie dies on my tongue. "Never mind. Let's get breakfast."

We make our way through the gilded halls of the manor, Annalise chattering about her latest magical theory studies. I try to focus on her words, but my attention snaps to the tall figure approaching from the opposite direction.

Ridwan strides toward us, wings tucked close, his attention fixed on the papers in his hands. My heart stutters, but his expression remains impassive as he looks up.

"Annalise." He nods curtly. "Eva."

His voice is cool, professional. None of that warmth from last night remains. The distance in his golden eyes makes my chest ache.

"Father." Annalise's shoulders tense. "We're going to breakfast."

"Good. Don't forget your arithmetic lessons afterward." He passes us without another glance, his wings a rigid wall between us. Not going to the dining room for breakfast like he usually does.

I watch him disappear around the corner, my fingers curling into fists. Of course. What did I expect? That one moment of connection would change anything?

"He's impossible." Annalise kicks at the floor. "Did something happen? He seems even more closed off than usual."

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. "Nothing happened."

She raises an eyebrow, those otherworldly eyes too perceptive. "Right. That's why you're both acting weird."

"I'm not acting weird." I start walking again, faster this time. "Come on, you need to eat before your lessons."

"Whatever you say." She falls into step beside me, but I can feel her studying my face. "But you know you can talk to me, right?"

I force a smile. "I know. There's just nothing to talk about."

Nothing except the phantom touch of his hands and the memory of almost-kisses that apparently meant nothing at all.

"You were totally staring at him." Annalise drops into one of the plush chairs in her study room, her silver dress pooling around her like liquid moonlight. "The whole time he was at breakfast. I counted at least six lingering looks."

"I was not." I busy myself arranging her arithmetic books, keeping my back turned to hide the heat creeping up my neck. Ridwan ended up coming to the dining room when we were halfway through, and Annalise perked up. I, on the other hand, couldn’t look at him. "I was making sure he ate enough. He works too hard."

"Right." She stretches her long legs out, tipping her chair back. "And I suppose you also needed to watch him drink his tea to make sure he didn't choke?"

"Annalise-"

"Or maybe you were concerned his hands might forget how to hold a fork?" A wicked grin spreads across her face. "Though I noticed you paid special attention to his hands."

My fingers fumble the books. The memory of those hands, strong and calloused, covering mine as I taught him to knead dough flashes through my mind. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please." She rolls her eyes. "You barely touched your own food. Too busy watching the way his jaw moved when he-"

"Enough!" The books hit the desk harder than intended. "This isn't appropriate conversation."

"Since when do we care about appropriate?" She leans forward, those ethereal silver eyes piercing straight through my defenses. "Come on, Eva. I'm not blind. The way you look at him..."

I sink into the chair across from her, shoulders slumping. There's no point denying it - not to her, not when she's watched me pine after her father for months. Not when my eyes betray me every time he enters a room, drawn to him like I’ve been spelled.

"It doesn't matter how I look at him." I trace the old scar on my hand, a reminder of my place. "He's a xaphan. I'm just a human who works for him."

"You're not just anything." Annalise's voice turns sharp. "And Father's not as indifferent as he pretends to be. I've seen the way he watches you when you're not looking."

My heart stutters. "He doesn't-"

"Eight times, Eva." She smirks. "That's how many times he looked at you during breakfast too."

I look away. “Annalise, this isn’t what you think it is.” And then I stand, leaving her in the study room, knowing her tutor will be here soon.

But Annalise's words echo in my mind as I walk through the manor's west wing, carrying a stack of books to return to the library. My footsteps echo off floors, the sun shining through towering windows.

I round the corner and freeze. Ridwan stands at the end of the hall, his golden wings catching the light. My heart slams against my ribs as his gaze meets mine.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Then his eyes drift down to my lips, lingering there before he jerks his head away. The gesture is so quick I might have imagined it, but heat floods my cheeks.

"My lord." The words scratch my throat. I hate using his title, but right now it feels safer than his name.

He shifts his weight, wings tensing. "Eva."

I take a step closer. "About last night-"

"I have meetings." He cuts me off, voice clipped. But he doesn't move away, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Please." I reach for him without thinking. "Can we just-"

He steps back before I can touch him, putting careful distance between us. The rejection stings worse than any physical blow.

"There's nothing to discuss." His words are ice, but his eyes... they burn when they meet mine again. "Last night was a mistake."

"A mistake." My fingers dig into the leather book covers. "Is that what you tell yourself when you look at me like that?"

His jaw tightens. "I don't look at you any particular way."

"You're doing it right now."

Golden eyes darken. The air feels thick, charged with the same intensity from last night. His wings twitch, betraying the rigid control of his stance.

"Eva." My name comes out rough. "Don't."

"Don't what? Don't notice how you can barely stand near me? Don't see how your wings spread every time I get close?" The books tremble in my grip. "Don't feel this thing between us?"

He takes another step back, but his gaze drops to my lips again. This time he doesn't look away fast enough to hide the hunger there.

"There is nothing between us." Each word sounds forced. "There can't be."

I lie in my bed, staring at the shadowed ceiling as moonlight filters through gauzy curtains. The manor creaks and settles around me, but all I can think about is the way Ridwan's eyes darkened when they fell to my mouth.

My fingers drift to my lips, tracing their outline. If I'd been braver, if I'd just leaned in those few inches that separated us in the hallway... Would he have pushed me away? Or would his control have finally snapped?

Heat pools in my belly at the thought of those strong hands gripping my waist, of being pressed against the wall by all that contained power. I imagine his wings creating a golden cage around us, blocking out the world until there was nothing but his mouth on mine.

The wanting aches, sharp and hollow in my chest. I shouldn't desire him like this. He's not just any xaphan - he's a lord, my employer, Annalise's father. The divide between us might as well be an ocean.

But I can't stop remembering how gentle his touch became when I guided his hands through the dough. How the hard lines of his face softened for just a moment. The way his breath caught when our fingers brushed.

I roll onto my side, curling around the emptiness in my bed. My lips tingle where his gaze lingered, and I press my fingers there harder, as if I could somehow capture the phantom sensation of a kiss that never happened.

The worst part is knowing he feels it too. For all his cold words and careful distance, his wings give him away every time. They reach for me even when he steps back, spreading wide like they want to draw me closer.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes the wanting worse. Now all I can picture is how his lips might feel - warm and demanding, maybe with just an edge of teeth. Would he taste like spice and leather, like he smells? Would his stubble scrape against my skin as he...

"Stop it," I whisper into the darkness. But my treacherous mind keeps spinning possibilities, each one more tempting than the last.