Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Riley has gone over to Cole and Janey’s nearly every day this week, spending at least an hour or two helping out. Sometimes, she goes while Grace is at school, and sometimes, if Grace doesn’t have a lesson, they’ll go together after school, usually stopping for one of the weekly Starbucks trips.
“Better,” she gushes. “Emmett’s cluster feeding seems to be slowing down, and just in time, because his first tooth popped through today. Janey started bawling about how fast time is passing and saying she can’t believe that he’s already four months old.”
“Time does fly,” I agree.
“That’s why we have to make the most of it,” Riley adds sagely.
It sounds suggestive as fuck to my on-edge desire, like she’s outright proposing we take advantage of having the house to ourselves. But Riley’s casually eating her dinner like she didn’t mean anything by it and it’s just a catchy phrase of advice she threw out, unwitting to the way it’d sound.
I have to get out of here. I’m losing whatever grip on my restraint I might’ve had walking into the house tonight. Imagining Riley in all sorts of positions, wanting to introduce her to my family at large, and taking off-hand remarks as sexual invitations.
And while I’m about to say fuck it and try to fuck her, she’s entirely unbothered, thinking we’re just having a nice chill dinner. Well, I am anything but chill tonight.
I swallow a wad of spaghetti, nearly clearing my plate, and gulp down the glass of red wine she poured for me.
“Speaking of time, I should get to work.”
“Oh, yeah.” I can hear the disappointment in her tone and have to grit my teeth not to take it back.
I can’t let myself be swayed by the small pout on her lips. This is for her own good. And mine. And Grace’s most of all, I remind myself.
Grace likes Riley and wants her to be her nanny. Ergo, I can’t fuck her, no matter how much my dick argues that point. It’s not right. I can’t fuck an employee, and I can’t fuck a twenty-five-year-old woman. Twelve additional trips around the sun on my part tells me that much for sure. I can’t… won’t… take advantage that way. Especially when Riley’s been dealt a shitty deck from the get-go. I don’t want to be one more thing that hurts her, because even though she does a great job of dealing with everything, she shouldn’t have to deal with it to begin with.
I stand up, picking up my plate, but Riley stops me by placing her hand on my forearm. I swear her fingers curl at the contact like she wants to grab me, but that’s probably my stupid imagination getting carried away again. “Leave it, I’ll take care of it. You have work to do.”
I shouldn’t. She’s not working tonight. And she made dinner, so the least I can do is clean up. But like the coward I am, I nod. “Thanks.”
I only make it halfway down the hall toward my office before I’m cupping myself. But I can’t keep doing this, jacking off with thoughts of Riley in my head. She fills my morning sessions, and too often, the evening ones too. So, with a growl, I turn to the one thing I know will help and pour myself a scotch, downing it in one swallow.
Then, I pour another and sit at my desk. Work always distracts me, and hopefully, tonight will be no different.
RILEY
It’s after one when my phone buzzes on the couch beside me. I’m in my room, the television showing reruns of Gilmore Girls that I haven’t been watching and my nails’ new coat of Hubba-Bubba Pink long-since dry. Mostly, I’m staring off into space and trying to figure out why Cameron was so weird at dinner tonight.
Did I overstep by assuming he’d still want to eat together?
Is he worried about Grace spending the night with Hannah?
Has he realized that I’m this close to being like one of those nannies who threw themselves at him, hoping for a ride on that dick of his that I can’t quit staring at now that I know how big it is?
I pick up my phone, a tiny wish that it’ll be a bootie call from downstairs trying to wiggle into my consciousness.
Are you awake?
It’s Cameron. And oh, shit! That tiny wish grows into a full-blown fantasy in a blink, but I choose my response carefully, not wanting to assume too much, too soon.
Yes.
Thank fuck. Grace needs to be picked up from Hannah’s and I can’t go. Could you?
My brows pull together. Why can’t Cameron go? I don’t mind going at all, but it surprises me that he can’t.
Yeah, of course. Is she okay? Address?
Yes? She texted an X, which is our signal for ‘no questions asked, come get me.’