Page 68 of Nine Week Nanny

When we break apart, she's smiling. "If you behave yourself, maybe I'll come back another night."

The promise in her voice makes my blood run hotter. I kiss her again, harder this time.

"I'm counting on it," I murmur against her lips.

With a final, lingering kiss, she slips from my grasp. "Goodnight, Pope."

The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me standing naked in the middle of my bedroom, achingly hard and completely undone.

I takemy time in the shower, letting hot water run over my shoulders while memories of last night replay behind my closed eyes. The sweetness lingers on my tongue. I can hear her breath catching, then breaking into those quiet gasps as her body trembled against mine.

Shit. I'm hard again just thinking about her.

By the time I'm dressed in my suit and a hot pink tie, I've convinced myself I can maintain professional composure. This was sex. Incredible sex, but still. I can handle breakfast with my nanny.

My nanny. The phrase sits wrong now.

Voices drift up from downstairs. Sloane's gentle encouragement and Lennon's small, hesitant responses harmonize. I pause at the top of the stairs, straightening my cuffs and taking a breath.

The kitchen is bright with morning light when I enter. Sloane stands at the counter in jean shorts and a loose white t-shirt, her hair pulled into a messy bun that exposes the nape of her neck. The spot I kissed last night. The spot that made her shiver.

Her eyes meet mine instantly, like she sensed me before I entered. Something electric passes between us. It's acknowledgment, desire, uncertainty, all compressed into a second of eye contact.

Mine.

The thought slams into me with startling force. I want to pull her against me, to feel her curves pressed to my body again. To claim what I touched in darkness.

Sloane looks away first, cheeks flushing as she busies herself with wiping already clean counters.

"Sloane made me eat eggs." Lennon's voice breaks the silence. He sits at the island, fork in hand, looking between us with those watchful eyes. "They're good now."

"Oh, yeah? Maybe you should thank her for making you eat them. I love eggs. They’re good for your muscles.”

"Me, too. Yeah, thank you, Sloane."

I clear my throat. "Morning," I say, looking at Sloane, willing her to look at me again.

"Morning." Sloane's voice is controlled and careful. She doesn't look up from the counter.

I move to the coffeemaker, brushing close enough to catch her scent. It’s vanilla and something citrusy that clings to her skin and sends shivers through me, causing my mouth to water.

It’s the same scent that's probably on my sheets upstairs.

"What are you doing today, buddy?" I ask Lennon, grateful for the distraction since it seems like neither Sloane nor I is sure how to ease into the morning after the night we shared.

"Micah is coming over to swim today," he says, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate. "Sloane is having a meeting with Ms. Angela."

"A meeting, huh?" I pour coffee, hyperaware of Sloane's movements beside me. "I've got meetings all morning, too, but I should be back by four."

“That’s early,” Sloane says. It’s not a question, but it is, too. I don’t normally join them so early in the day. And I certainly don’t call it home.

“Thought I’d see what you guys are up to. I’ll have more work, but I’d like to hear about your day at Seabreeze when you get home. When is Micah coming?”

“Oh, Angela, Micah's mom, has been homeschooling for two years. She's going to show me the ropes, and we are going to form a sort of mini-consortium with the boys.”

"A mini-consortium?" I arch an eyebrow, continually impressed by how seriously she takes Lennon's care. "You're putting together a homeschool program already?"

Heat rushes to my face as Sloane finally meets my eyes. There's something determined in her expression that wasn't there yesterday. Something that reaches into me about here that wasn’t there before, either.