Living with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 4)

by Whitley Cox

  Isobel pulled into Aaron’s driveway and turned off the ignition. She huffed out a breath and didn’t open the car door. Instead she simply sat there and stared ahead at the closed garage door. “You hurt me,” she whispered.

  Aaron’s gut lurched at her words.

  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Isobel. He’d hack off a limb, gouge out his eyes, impale himself on a rusty spear before he intentionally hurt her.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  She turned to face him. “What’s going on with us? I don’t get you. I’ve been your nanny for over a month now, and I hardly know a thing about you. This is unlike any nanny job I’ve ever had before. The parents usually want to know who the hell is with their kid all day.”

  He fought the urge to say that Sophie wasn’t his kid, but instead he gnashed his molars together and didn’t say anything.

  “And then”—she forced out a laugh—“I thought we’d turned this corner last night when we kissed. I honestly thought you didn’t even like me. I thought the attraction was one-sided.”

  So did he, but from his side.

  “You were so caring, so reassuring when I called you in a panic, when I called you for help.” She swallowed, the sexy line of her throat jogging as she pushed down the emotions. “You’re the first person I called. I called you before I even thought about calling the cops.” She stared straight ahead at the garage again, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her sweater. “I feel safe with you. I don’t know why, because I have no idea if you are a safe person. For all I know, those dog tags could mean you were in the military but then went rogue and became a gun for hire or a mercenary or something.”

  “I was a SEAL.” Damn, all he wanted to do was reach out, grab her hands and bring them to his lips, reassuring her that she was safe with him, that he’d never intentionally hurt her.

  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie like that when he had no clue if she actually was safe with him. He’d let people down before. He could do it again.

  Probably would do it again.

  She spun back around to face him, her eyes wide, lips parted. Pink flooded her cheeks, and her nostrils flared. He was used to this reaction from women. They always got turned on when he or his buddies told them what they did. Sometimes it was fun to watch the way the women changed. Their visceral reactions to being around men who lived dangerously. “A SEAL as in a Navy SEAL?”

  What was it about danger that turned women on?

  She licked her lips.

  “Yes. Colton too.” He could give her that. She deserved the truth. “We were the good guys, I swear. Saved more people than we killed.” He pressed his lips together and breathed deep through his nose. “Or at least that was the goal.”

  Good guys was a relative term, but she needed to know he wasn’t some gun for hire who would sell his soul to the highest bidder.

  Maybe that was because he didn’t really have much of a soul to sell anymore anyway.

  The way the blue darkened in her eyes told him she believed him but was still curious and probably skeptical.

  “I failed in my last mission.” He swallowed. “So after I tied up some loose ends, I retired and moved back here. Started up the construction company.”

  “Thank you for sharing,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome.”

  They both dropped their gazes to their laps.

  “I’m sorry that you failed your mission. I hope it was fixable.”

  He resisted the urge to laugh. Oh, he’d fixed it all right. Fixed it good.

  He’d gone rogue and went on a fucking killing spree.

  Yeah, he’d fixed it.

  Her pained sigh brought his eyes up to her face. “What are we doing, Aaron? Why were you so closed off this morning? You didn’t even look at me. I’m not expecting a diamond ring after last night, but I do think I deserve eye contact.” She lifted her head and fixed her eyes on the side of his face until he looked at her. He didn’t want to, but he knew he had to. “I deserve respect,” she said when he finally looked at her.

  She deserved the universe.

  Hearing the rawness in her words, he closed his eyes, unable to look at the hurt on her face any longer.

  “I’m sorry. Last night took me by surprise. I never thought it would happen. It never should have happened.” He ran his fingers through his damp hair, and like the coward that he was, opened his eyes and focused on her pink tennis shoes instead of her beautiful face. “Hell, Liam even warned me. He told me nothing good could come from sleeping with my nanny. But then seeing you last night flirting with Zak …”

  She made a dismissive noise in her throat and shook her head. “Zak flirts with everyone. And I mean everyone. He mostly does it because he’s not interested in dating right now, but he finds it fun. He flirted with Tori when Mark was being a dink to her, pushed Mark to step up. Maybe he was trying to do the same to you?”

  Had that been Zak’s angle all along?

  Good thing Aaron hadn’t put his fist through the man’s face.

  He hung his head and stared at his black jogging shorts. “Well, Zak aside, I understand if you want to quit. I took advantage of you. I should have known better—”

  She stomped her foot on the floor of the car and crossed her arms in front of her chest, pushing her breasts up. “How many times do I have to tell you that I wanted you too? I want you too.”

  His cock lurched in his shorts.

  Down, boy.

  She reached for his hand across the center console and placed her fingers on top of his, her touch soft but sure and steady.

  Fuck, he needed steady in his life.

  “We can start slow,” she offered. “Take a few steps back, if you want.”

  The only steps he wanted to take were into the house and back to his bedroom. He wanted her naked on his bed with his face between her legs. That was where he’d been happiest. That was where he’d felt steady and sure. Buried in her softness, in her sweetness.

  “I’m not sure what you expect from me,” he asked.

  “Did you enjoy last night?”

  Did the sun rise in the east? Did beer taste good? Of course, he enjoyed last night.

  “I’ll take that facial expression and your silence as a yes,” she said, a cute smile tilting her lips up on one side. “So did I. Why can’t we do that? Why can’t we just enjoy each other and continue doing what we were doing?”

  “You’ll want more eventually,” he said, hoping she understood he wasn’t trying to be an asshole and just simply stating a fact.

  “Maybe you will too.”

  She didn’t deny it. She would. She knew she would.

  He shook his head. “I can’t give you more. It’s … when people get close to me, they get hurt. It’s just a fact.”

  Her little button nose wrinkled. “Who would want to hurt me? Or you?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Is this about Dina?”

  His sister’s name sent a red-hot poker directly into his heart. He snarled and flung the car door open, choosing not to answer her rather than bite her head off and say something he would ultimately regret. He heard the driver’s side door open and then slam shut and her footsteps behind him as he approached the front door.

  Not bothering to turn around, he slid the key into the lock and opened the front door.

  She followed him but didn’t say a word.

  He needed a drink. He’d had three sips of his beer at Mark’s before being sent on his way to kiss and make up or whatever the fuck Mark and Tori expected him and Isobel to do. It didn’t matter that it was only noon. He needed a fucking drink.

  Halfway into the kitchen, he stopped.

  Waffles and plate carnage littered the floor.

  What the fuck?

  Isobel’s footsteps stopped behind him. “I was angry,” she said, her voice only a touch sheepish. “You treated me like a piece of meat. Good enough to sleep with but not good enough to sit and have breakf
ast with. Not good enough to look at after the fact. You didn’t even bother to ask me how I was this morning. And after everything I went through last night, I think I deserved that.”

  Was that a sob?

  No.

  Fuck, no.

  He spun around. Her eyes were red-rimmed and brimmed with tears.

  “I’m trying really hard here, Aaron. Really fucking hard. I know you’re struggling with all of this, and I’m trying to give you space, but it’s getting tough. Your walls are near impenetrable. But last night, I thought … ” She wiped her wrist beneath her nose. “I was scared, and you helped me. You showed me compassion and care. You gave me strength when I had none. I wanted to replace the memories of last night with something better, with something good. I didn’t think that what we did last night would make it difficult for you to look at me the next day. Would make it difficult for you to be around me, to talk to me. Had I known it would, I wouldn’t have—” She turned her head and wiped beneath her eyes.

  Oh, fuck.

  An ache filled his chest.

  In a couple of long strides, he ate up the distance between them, grabbing her by the shoulders and bending his knees until they were eye to eye. What stared back at him fucking killed him.

  But he didn’t know what to say. An apology would be hollow and lackluster. Or at least that’s what he thought. An apology wasn’t enough. What he had to give her, what he had in his heart just wasn’t enough.

  She blinked damp, spiked lashes at him, looking through him, seeing all of him.

  As she went to speak, he crushed his mouth to hers, smothering her words. He released her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugged her into his body. She groaned and gripped his T-shirt tight, his dog tags too. It was like she was holding on for dear life. But it was actually him who was holding on to her. Grappling for the last remaining threads of his sanity, of his humanity … of his soul. Sweeping through her mouth, his tongue swirled around hers, massaging and sucking, tasting a delicacy he knew he didn’t deserve.

  He knew it was wrong. The whole thing between them was wrong. It’d been wrong the first time he’d kissed her, then the second and every time after that. But he couldn’t stop.

  He wanted her to demand they stop, to see the man that he really was and realize she was better off walking away. That he couldn’t give her what she needed, what she deserved.

  He also wanted her to beg him for more, to take what she could from him, what he could offer her, even if it wasn’t much.

  She pushed him away, her chest heaving with heavy pants, her eyes bright and lips puffy. “What are we doing, Aaron?” She stepped away from him and turned around. “What do you want from me?”

  Fuck if he knew.

  Could everything and nothing be the right answer?

  He wanted everything she had to give him, but he also knew that it was better to ask her for nothing, because how could you ask someone to give you all they had when you had so little to give in return?

  She spun to face him. “I like you. I’m attracted to you. I want you. I also love my job. I’m in love with your baby, and I don’t want to lose Sophie.” She swallowed. “Or you. But if this is going to be too much for you, I can step back. I can just be the nanny.” Her blue eyes turned fierce. “But don’t fuck with my heart. Don’t fuck me and then not even look at me afterward. I’m a person, and I deserve respect. I’ll take a lot of crap, but I won’t take being disrespected, grieving or not. I don’t deserve it.”

  Had he ever met a stronger, more confident woman in his life?

  Fuck, no, he hadn’t.

  Isobel Jones did not play games. She wasn’t dramatic. She wasn’t wishy-washy. She was blunt, up-front and candid. And hell if it didn’t make him want her even more.

  He took a step forward. “I don’t have a lot to give,” he said softly. “I’m not whole, haven’t been for a while.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. The hips he desperately wanted bare and in his palms as he watched her bounce up and down in his lap. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I can try. I want to try. I want you, but I don’t know if that’ll be enough. If I’m enough.”

  Her eyes softened, and she took half a step forward. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, hmm?” She closed the distance between them and looped her arms around his neck, resting them on his shoulders. “You’re an amazing man, Aaron. Hurting, lost and confused, but you’re still amazing. I wish you could see all the things that I see. How good you are with Sophie, how much love you have for her. You have so much love to give, I just wish you were able to see if for yourself. I wish I could help take away your pain.”

  “You can’t fix me,” he whispered. “I’m unfixable.”

  She tilted her head to the side, and a small, almost indiscernible smile lifted the corner of her mouth. She shook her head. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to show you that you’re not broken.”

  You’re not broken.

  He rested his hands on her hips and pushed her T-shirt up and leggings down just enough so that his palms rested on bare skin. She was warm to the touch and soft all over.

  He needed more softness in his life.

  Isobel, Sophie, they’d been exactly what he’d needed to take away the jagged edge that had begun to consume him, cutting through the last remaining shreds of his soul.

  Heat and need swirled in the intense cornflower blue of her eyes. “How can I take away your pain? How can I ease the hurt?”

  “Sounds to me like you’re trying to be a fixer.”

  He could feel the warm puffs of her breath against his mouth now that they were so close. “I prefer the name Wonder Woman, but whatever.” Her smile was wicked, but even with the sudden restless gleam in her eyes, there was no denying her sweetness. No denying the true nature of Isobel and how giving and genuinely compassionate she was.

  “You’re most definitely Wonder Woman,” he breathed, flicking his tongue out and tracing it along her bottom lip. “I’m in awe of you.”

  Her fingers curled around his neck, and she took his mouth, propelling them forward until his calves hit the wooden kitchen chair and he was forced to sit down.

  The woman knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to ask for it. Wasn’t afraid to take control.

  He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. At least not until she straddled him and pushed her breasts against his face and ground her hot cleft against his titanium-hard erection, which she could undoubtably feel, as his jogging shorts left very little to the imagination.

  She bent her head and traced her tongue over the shell of his ear. “Condom,” she whispered.

  “Bedroom,” he grunted, grabbing her ass cheeks and rocking her against him.

  Without another word, she stood up, reached for his hand and led him down the hallway to his bedroom. The confidence in her gait and the smile on her face made his balls tighten up and his pulse thunder in his ears.

  When they entered his bedroom, she released his hand and went to get undressed, but he stopped her.

  Last night, they’d already been naked. Today he wanted to unwrap her himself.

  “Let me.” He gripped the hem of her T-shirt and slowly drew it over her head. She lifted her arms to help him. Her bra was nothing special. Simple, white cotton with a tiny satin bow in the center. But it was sexy as fuck on her.

  She was wearing dark gray leggings or tights or whatever the chicks were calling them these days. The skin-tight stretchy pants that had taken over the bottom halves of nearly the entire global female population. Thankfully, Isobel rocked them. Her ass was perfect and tight, her thighs soft and luscious, and as he pulled the leggings down, sinking to his knees, he kissed a trail down her quads to her shins. He pulled off her cute little pink tennis shoes and socks, discarding everything but her bra and panties in a pile next to the bed.

  It killed him not to stop and fold it all.

  Everything in his room, i
n his home was neat and orderly.

  Everything had a place.

  Disorder bred chaos.

  Order saved lives.

  But he wasn’t about to take time away from Isobel and her body and the way she was watching him to give in to his OCD. He’d fold it later.

  Still on his knees, he guided her over to the bed, then lifted her foot, planting kisses up her instep toward her ankle, her calf and knee. He swirled his tongue around the back of her knee until she squirmed and inhaled.

  “That tickles,” she whispered.

  He did it again, only this time, he nipped her skin, then reached up and pushed his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties. The damp patch made the white cotton near translucent, showcasing the small patch of dark hair she kept so neatly trimmed.

  He fought the urge to lift his head and push his nose into it. Inhale her sweet, musky scent.

  His fingers moved through her slick, pink folds until he found her clit. She pushed down on his hand, encouraging his quest.

  He was going to take his time. Savor her. Do this right.

  He’d already hurt her more than he could bear. He needed to make amends and apologize properly.

  Lazily, he stroked her clit, felt it swell beneath his fingertips and more warm wetness trickle out onto his knuckles.

  He dragged the tip of his tongue up her inner thigh, pushing his nose against her mound when he reached the juncture of her legs. Removing his fingers from her clit, he flicked it through the fabric with his tongue. She lurched on the bed, then fell to her back.

  He smiled, repeating the whole process to her other leg before finally peeling her panties down and tossing them with the rest of her clothes. Still on his knees, he pulled her butt to the edge of the bed, spread her legs wide, tossed them over his shoulders and kissed her clit.

  Her hips leapt off the bed.

  He did it again.

  They leapt again.

  Grinning, he sucked one of her soft, pink folds into his mouth, loving her flavor and the way it slid like warm honey across his tongue. He could drink her down all day long.

  His fingers found her cleft, and he pushed one, then two inside her, feeling her ridges pulse and contract around him.