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KLAUS

I don't care about women.

I don't let them into my life. I don't spare them a second thought. And I sure as hell don't think about them when I'm supposed to be working.

But ever since Emma Turner walked into my life, I haven't gotten any work done.

I touched her today.

Voluntarily.

I haven't touched anyone since the war, but I touched her. The physical contact didn't make bile rise up my throat. It didn't fill my head with war and pain. For some strange reason, it felt...natural.

She awakened the primal side of me, but otherwise, the interaction felt so normal .

"And through this, our ultimate goal is to directly work with small artisans and bring their work to a global audience," the startup founder says.

I glance up to see that everyone at the conference table is looking at me. I click my pen against the table, trying to remember some points from the startup pitch.

Alongside my real estate ventures, I'm also a venture capitalist. But instead of listening to the pitch, I've been daydreaming about the nanny.

"There are many sustainability-based initiatives like yours," I say. "What sets you apart from the others?"

He's ready with an answer, telling me about his vetting process and loyalty program.

There's the glow of youth in his eyes. He's passionate about the company he built. I was like him once—all glittery-eyed and bushy-tailed. I thought the world was my oyster and I would get everything I desired.

And I did.

I got everything I ever wanted, but none of it made me happy. Not really. The taste of success only increased my wants and needs. Nothing was ever enough.

It was too late by the time I realized I was chasing the wrong things.

I don't know if this young man will end up like me, but I know he has what it takes. He has a solid plan, and more importantly, he has guts. If he plays his cards right, I'll make a good return on my investment.

I nod at my assistant. She approves the startup on my behalf.

"I don't know what to say," the young man says. His face is flushed with joy. "Thank you so much, Mr. Sinclair."

I stand and walk away from the table.

The second I'm alone again, I'm thinking about her. I'm thinking about how soft and pliable she felt under my touch. And that short fucking skirt. It made my hands itch to do more than just hold her waist.

Lust is something I understand.

What I don't understand is the protectiveness I've started to feel for her. Ever since I learned about her past, I felt the need to protect her from everything that wishes to cause her harm.

I want to be that person for her. I want to be someone she can count on.

I want to be someone I can never be.

As I arrive at the mansion, the warm scent of freshly baked cookies drifts through the air.

I follow the aroma to the kitchen, where I find Emma decorating cookies with icing. Her long hair is tied back in a bun, but some errant strands have escaped to frame her face. Her cheeks are flushed from the oven's heat.

She looks as sweet as the cookies she's working on.

I stay hidden in the shadows as I watch her work.

She's in her element right now.There's pure focus in her eyes as her hand glides over the cookies, switching between the different colors.

"Hello, Klaus," a voice calls out from behind me.

Emma's gaze snaps to mine. Helena walks around me to enter the kitchen. Sheplaces a shaker of rainbow-colored sprinkles on the island.

"Hello, Helena," I say, keeping my eyes on Emma.

"You're home early today," Helena points out.

"Some impromptu plans were made," I answer.

"So I heard," she says, glancing between Emma and me. "I just didn't think you'd actually show up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I say.

"I like this side of you," Helena says, patting my chest before leaving the kitchen.

Emma and I remain silent as we look at each other. Helena's footsteps fade away, but we remain frozen where we are.

"Hi," she says. Her blush deepens.

"Hey," I say.

I can't help it. For a moment, I feel like a teenager having a crush on a girl for the very first time.

I discard that thought from my mind and walk toward the espresso machine. I make myself the usual afternoon pick-me-up.

"Would you like some?" I ask without turning around.

"Oh. No, thank you," she says, sounding out of breath. "I can't drink coffee too late in the day. It'll just keep me up all night."

"I can't sleep regardless," I say, leaning against the counter.

The kitchen is an explosion of color. The cookies are in different shapes—white ghosts, orange pumpkins, and purple bats.

"So," I say. "Cookies?"

"Don't tell me you have a problem with cookies," she replies.

"I don't, but the kids have a nutritionist who'll want to have a word with you," I say, taking my cup of coffee and moving closer toward her.

I should probably keep my distance, but it's hard to.

It feels like my whole life has been a long winter, and this girl holds all the warmth and sunshine in the world. It's impossible to stay away from her.

She points at a batch of plain cookies.

"I saved this one for the kids," she says. "I thought it would be a fun activity to let them decorate them however they like. Plus, Rosalie has a class party tomorrow, so she can take some of these cookies to school."

Her teeth graze against her bottom lip as she waits for my reply.

I'm entranced by the movement.My cock turns hard as steel. My entire body is primed to fuck.

I never wanted anyone like this.

The kitchen island separates the two of us. It's both a relief and a nuisance.

My feet begin to move on their own.

She grips the stone edge of the island so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Her cheeks turn a prettier shade of pink. It makes me want to tug down her blouse just to follow the path of that blush.

"You don't have to pretend to be so fucking sweet, Emma," I say, stopping behind her. I lean down and breathe in the scent of her hair. It reminds me of lazy Sunday mornings and simpler times.

"Sorry?"

"What am I supposed to do with you?" I ask, caging her between my arms. She looks so delicate beneath me.

I can see the vein pulsing at her neck. Her heart is beating faster, and it's not from fear.

Our bodies seem to have an understanding. I can smell it on her skin. If I were to put my hands on her and take her right here against this counter, she'd let me. She'd probably beg for more.

"I don't follow," she whispers.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," I say, dragging my hands closer toward her body, caging her completely. My face is mere inches away from her neck now.

She tilts her head toward me. I see the outline of her succulent lips.

"What game are you playing, Emma?" I ask.

Her breath hitches in her throat.

My desire for her is a living, breathing monster that's separate from me.

"You try to seduce me at breakfast, and then you try to win over the kids by baking them cookies," I say. "Do you really expect me to believe that you don't have an ulterior motive?"

She blinks a couple of times as the words sink in.

"You have me misunderstood," she says. "I'm only here for one reason—to do my job."

I lean in closer. She smells so fucking sweet.

"Is that really the truth, Emma?" I ask. "I wouldn't get mad if you told me you had an angle."

"There is no angle," she says. "I'm an honest person."

"I'm afraid I don't have any virtuous qualities," I say, dropping my head against her shoulder.

I wait for the human contact to register in my body. All that exists is pure, pulsing need. My mind is devoid of any thought or emotion. Instead, I'm feeling with my body.

A primal part of me has taken the reins now.

I bare my teeth against her shoulder, like a predator about to sink his teeth into his prey.

"Do you taste this sweet everywhere, Emma?" I ask.

She sighs softly for me, becoming a doll that exists for my gratification. She gasps as I bite down hard on her shoulder.

"I'm supposed to know better, aren't I?" I ask. "I'm seventeen years older. I'm your boss. I'm not supposed to cross the line."

She arches her back, pushing her round ass toward me.

"But a man can only take so much teasing, Emma," I say, dragging my hand up her body and wrapping it around her throat.

I wait for the familiar repulsion to wash over me, but there's nothing there. When I'm around this girl, my old life feels like a movie I once watched. I remember the big strokes of what happened, but it all feels like a distant memory.

I pick up little things about her body language.

She likes it when I'm rough with her.

I slide my other hand up her hip, squeezing it in my hold.

"You like this, don't you?" I'm so close to her that I can hear her heart beating. "I think you'll let me do whatever I want to you."

She shifts against me, rubbing her ass against my aching cock.

My sanity is about to tip over the edge. Electricity is running through my veins. This girl is about to unleash the monster that lives inside me.

"You're so fucking hungry for it," I say. "And I bet you don't even know what you're hungry for."

Her breasts heave against her blouse, begging for my touch.

"I'm going to have to be the one to corrupt you," I say. "But I'll warn you now, Emma. You'll never be the same again."

"Maybe I don't want to be," she says.

There's a desperation in her voice.

She needs this. She needs it almost as much as I need her.

But I don't trust myself to be gentle with her. I can tell just by the tinge of color in her cheeks that she's not experienced.

I haven't had a woman for over a decade. She'll be the first woman I touch after the war.

I'll end up devouring her whole.

I drop my hands. She gasps when I lean forward to reach for one of the cookies. Our bodies fit against each other like two pieces of a puzzle.

It takes every ounce of strength inside me to step away from her.

Her eyes track me as I walk around the island. I plop down on one of the stools.

"I apologize," I say. "I got carried away."

"Me too," she says, taking a deep breath.