by Lexi Ryan
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Nic asks me.
“I’m still waiting for you to tell me how you want to spend your birthday.”
She studies me for a beat. “What happened to boss and employee, no blurred lines?”
I stifle a grimace. When I said that, I was trying to deliver a message to myself, not to her. Shrugging, I say, “You’re off the clock. Not my employee again until”—I make a show of looking at my watch—“six p.m. tomorrow, I believe.”
“You’re serious?”
“If you don’t want to go out with me, just tell me.”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to think I expect you to entertain me.”
“No, it’s cool. I mean, I’d understand if you’d rather spend your evening doing something more stimulating . . .” I look down at my beer before flashing my gaze back up to meet hers. “I would completely understand if you were more interested, say, in a nice, private bath.”
Nicole
My jaw drops. Ethan’s face is so damn serious. “You didn’t just go there.” His lips quirk, and my cheeks are so hot that I’m pretty sure they’re cherry red. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Sorry. Was I supposed to pretend that didn’t happen?”
“You were supposed to forget it happened.”
He leans forward so his mouth is by my ear. “Nic, there are some things I won’t ever forget, and the image of you in my tub with your hand between your legs is high on the list.”
A thrill shoots through me. What happened to the broody employer who insisted we keep our relationship professional? The man who was horrified he’d hooked up with the girl he’d hired to be his nanny?
I swallow hard. “I’m still pretty mortified I did that.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Which part mortifies you? The part where you were touching yourself in my tub, or the part where you got off because I was watching?”
“Both,” I whisper. My cheeks are still hot, but I’m not mortified now, not with the way he’s looking at me. I’m turned on, and that’s one hell of a welcome change after how I’ve been feeling. Today was tough, with the call from my mom and then my attempted conversation with my sister.
But in this moment, none of that matters. It’s just me and Ethan and his dark eyes telling me he means every word he’s saying. I squeeze my thighs together and focus on that feeling.
“I’m starving,” I say. Right now, with the way Ethan’s looking at me and the words he’s whispering in my ear, if we stay here, we’ll end up locked in Jake’s restroom again. “Maybe we could start with dinner?”
“Perfect.” He leads me to the door, and we grab our coats off the rack.
“Don’t go to Howell’s!” Jake calls from behind the bar. “His IPA tastes like a pine tree pissed in a barrel. That man has no appreciation for the fine art of brewing.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I call back.
“And be easy on my brother,” he says, his tone gentler. “He’s a little rusty, but I’m sure with enough patience, he can loosen up.”
Next to me, Ethan grunts then whispers, “I promise I’m not nearly as rusty as he says.”
I grin at Jake. “Understood.”
“Do you mind walking?” Ethan asks when we’re outside.
I shiver as the cold wind hits my cheeks, but shake my head. “A walk would be good.”
“There’s a great steakhouse a couple of blocks over. I’ve known the chef since grade school, and she owes me a favor. I bet she’ll give us a table even if they’re booked for the night.”
“You don’t have to call in favors for me.”
“Maybe I want to. Maybe I’m realizing I only get you for a short time and I want to make the most of it. And maybe I’m hungry.” The way he rakes his eyes over me when he says hungry makes that warmth blossom in my belly. Oh, yeah. I’m hungry too.
He leads me to a restaurant on Lakeshore Drive. It’s the kind of place with white linen tablecloths and candles on the tables. We’re given a table in the back corner of the restaurant, and Ethan orders us a bottle of red wine. I don’t usually like dry reds, but this wine is so smooth and delicious that I think I’ve been having the wrong kind. In addition to my personal rule about not using alcohol as a crutch, I can’t drink much because of the medication I take, but I sip on the glass he pours me and let myself enjoy the way it heats my chest and the zip it sends through my blood.
“I’ll be right back,” he says after we order our dinner. He pushes back from the table and grabs the waitress as he stands. “I have to run out for a minute, but don’t let her leave, okay?”
I laugh. “I’m not allowed to leave?”
He grins. “That’s right.” His eyes slowly sweep down my body. “For tonight, you’re mine.” He turns to the waitress. “Give her anything she wants. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“You’ve got it,” she says. She smiles at Ethan as he rushes out the front. “Where on earth is he going? The snow’s really starting to come down out there.”
I turn up my palms and shake my head. “I have no idea.”
She studies me for a beat. “You’re the nanny?” The question doesn’t bother me this time because her eyes are kind.
“I am for now. I leave in February.” And it’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
“He lights up around you. It’s nice to see life in his eyes again.”
Jake said something similar the day I had lunch in his bar, and I’m not sure how to respond. “I think he’s a good guy. He’s definitely an amazing dad.”
She beams at me, then gives a slow shake of her head. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” She winks and then walks away.
It feels like forever before Ethan returns, but when he takes his seat across from me, his cheeks are pink and he’s smiling. He pulls a box out of his pocket and puts it in front of me. “Happy birthday.”
“What’s this?”
His dark hair is sprinkled with fresh snow, and he drags a hand through it. “It’s your birthday present. Open it.”
“Okay, but you really didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
I open the small box, and the necklace inside makes my throat go too thick for words. It’s a tiny lighthouse on a chain with diamond accents. I’m afraid to look at him because he’ll see the tears in my eyes, but the joy blossoming in my chest insists on my turning to him like a flower to the sun.
“I can’t take total credit for it,” he says softly. “Lilly told me how much you like the lighthouse and that sometimes you drive the long way home from school just to look at it. So, consider it a gift from her, too.”
I run my finger over the charm. “I love it.”
Ethan
As we walk back to our cars after dinner, Nic looks up at the sky and sighs. “Is it always this beautiful here?”
I follow her gaze to the dark sky and the cloud-obscured moon. How long has it been since I looked at the sky without Lilly by my side? “Yes.” I swallow. Tonight’s been bittersweet. On one hand, I’ve gotten to be close to Nic, and I wouldn’t have let myself if she was staying on as my employee for the long-term. On the other hand, I don’t like thinking about her leaving. “Jackson Harbor is always beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving the day. This birthday could have been a total bust, but you swooped in with your good looks and excellent taste in restaurants and made it one worth remembering.” She shakes her head. “I always do this. I build up my birthday in my mind. I expect it to be full of all these incredibly special moments where everything is perfect, and then when it’s not, I’m disappointed. I need to stop doing that.”
“I’m hurt.” I press a hand to my chest. “This night isn’t perfect for you?”
She laughs. “Are you saying it’s perfect for you?”
It’s pretty damn close, but I don’t want to reveal
how much her company means to me.
I step forward because I want to be closer. Her gaze moves to my mouth and mine goes to hers. Her lips are pink and swollen from being tortured by her teeth. My gut knots. The night is silent around us, as if winter is holding everything still so we won’t be disturbed in this moment.
“Ride home with me,” I say. “We can get your car in the morning. I’m not ready to let you leave my sight just yet.”
If she thinks it’s an odd request, she doesn’t say so. She nods and lets me open her door and help her into my SUV. I climb in my side and start the car. When I pull onto the main road and reach for her hand, she laces her fingers through mine.
I can’t decide if I want the ride to go quickly or slowly. I’m afraid the spell will be broken when we walk in the door. She’ll go back to being the dutiful employee, and I won’t get to find out how my favorite wine tastes on her lips. I consider pulling over so we can neck in the car like a couple of teenagers, but I want more than frenzied kisses and greedy hands. She deserves more.
After I park in the garage, we walk inside, the silence tense between us. We shed our coats, turn, and stare at each other.
“Thank you again for tonight,” she says.
I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “The pleasure was mine, Nic.” I take a breath. “I’m pretty sure this is where a gentleman kisses his date goodnight so she’ll spend the rest of her night thinking about him.”
“But you’re not going to do that?” she asks.
My gaze drops to her mouth. “I want to, but a gentleman would kiss you and walk away, and I already know a kiss won’t be nearly enough.” Before she can reply, I cup her face in both hands and lower my mouth to hers.
I don’t intend for this to be a soft, sweet kiss. I need for her to feel all the longing I’ve had bottled in my chest since the day she showed up on my porch. I pass my lips across hers and sweep my tongue over her plump bottom lip. When she opens her mouth beneath mine, I slide my hands into her hair and pull her against me.
“What are we doing?” she whispers against my mouth.
“We’re taking advantage of an empty house.”
She puts her hand against my chest and looks up at me. “Is this some sort of test, Ethan? Are you going to be disappointed in me tomorrow if I don’t stop you?”
“Do you want me to stop?”
She studies my face, and I swear I can’t breathe until she shakes her head. “I don’t. But I don’t want you to be angry with me. Or with yourself.”
“The only way I’m going to be angry with myself tomorrow is if I let you walk away without touching you again.”
She slides a hand behind my neck and lifts onto her toes to press her lips to mine. “You’re sure?”
I answer by pulling her shirt off over her head and unzipping her skirt. When it falls from her hips, she steps out of it. Then she’s in front of me in the cowboy boots she was wearing the first night we met, light pink panties, and a bra. “It’s like you walked out of my fantasies.”
She unbuckles my belt and unzips my pants. “What else do I do in your fantasies?”
I still her hands with mine. “Not tonight,” I say, my voice low and husky. “You deserve to be worshipped on your birthday. Don’t make this about me.”
“Can’t I have what I want? Since it’s my birthday?”
Her hand slides under my waistband and I draw in a breath through my teeth. “Anything you want.”
“What if I want this?” She drops to her knees in front of me—like a fucking dream—and drags my pants down my hips until my cock springs free. She slides her tongue down the length of me before opening her mouth and taking me deep.
I fist a hand in her hair, trying not to jut my hips, trying not to fuck her mouth, but Christ, her mouth is good.
She pulls back, releasing me, and looks up at me through her lashes.
“It’s your birthday. Not mine.” I’m shaking. I want her mouth on me, and I want my hands on her. I want to feel her and make her moan, and I want to take everything she offers.
“And this is exactly what I want.” She puts her mouth on me again, stroking me with her tongue as one hand cups my balls and the other grabs my ass.
I lean my head back and grit my teeth. I’m trying not to blow my load like a teenage boy getting his first blowjob, but it feels too damn good. Every time she moans, a vibration ricochets through me, sending pleasure in a hot bolt down my spine.
When I can’t take it anymore, I guide her off me. Her lips are swollen, her eyes hazy with need. I want to spin her around and fuck her against the wall. I want to hear those noises she makes when she’s turned on, want to get inside her as fast as possible.
Instead, I strip her bare—unhooking her bra and sliding it off her arms and peeling her lacy panties from her hips. She grins at me as she toes out of her boots, and I take her to the couch, sit, and guide her to straddle me. Her breasts are full, her nipples hard, and I lick each one. She rocks against me, her slick heat right against my bare cock.
“We need a condom,” I say. I’m a simple shift of my hips away from sliding inside her without one, and as much as I want that, I know it’s a bad idea. “I have some in my—” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Shit.”
She rocks against me again, and I have to grit my teeth to resist the urge to take this further. I grab her hips roughly and still her movements. If she keeps doing that, I’m going to make a bad fucking decision about what happens next.
“Nic, I don’t have any condoms.”
Nicole
I lean my forehead against his and make myself slow down. Breathe. Catch my breath. No condoms?
I wish I was the kind of girl who kept them in her purse, but the last time I bought condoms was for my honeymoon, and . . .
I smile. “I have some.” I climb off Ethan and offer my hand. “Upstairs.”
He takes my hand in his, and I lead him up the stairs. Maybe I should feel awkward or nervous about us giving in to this, about finally doing what we’ve both wanted to do since that first night, but I don’t. My whole body is humming. I want more of him. All of him. We both know this can’t last, that it’s just tonight—an exception for my birthday. Once again, Ethan’s swooping in when I need him the most.
We go into my room, and he shuts the door behind us before spinning me around and pressing me against it. He kisses me hard, his hands searching my body as if he’s lost something and is desperate to find it. He grazes over my breasts, my hips, my ass. Up my thighs and between my legs and finally into my hair as he kisses me harder, longer, and deeper.
I whimper against him. I need more. I’m greedy for it, feeling like if I don’t get him inside me soon, it might not happen at all, and if it doesn’t, I might fall apart.
“The condoms are in my dresser.” I point to the top drawer with all my lingerie.
He pulls it open and blinks at the contents, looking at me and then back to it. He grabs a condom and shoves the drawer closed. “Get on the bed.”
I obey, loving the rough command and the simmering desperation in his husky voice. I climb onto my bed, prop myself on my elbow, and watch him roll the condom on his shaft.
“I want to see you do it again.” His eyes sweep down my body and then back up, greedy, all over me. “I want to see you touch yourself again.”
I drop back onto the pillow, keeping my eyes on him as I trail my hand over my breasts, across my stomach, and then cup myself between my legs. I’m wet, slick with heat and need like I’ve never been before. My body’s ready for him. Just him. Only him.
I rub my clit, and his eyes go darker, his nostrils flaring as he takes a step forward.
“Do you know how much I’ve thought about that night? Do you know how badly I wanted to come in there even before I saw you touching yourself? I couldn’t stop thinking about you naked on the other side of that door. I wanted to get in the water with you and fuck you with my hand, wanted to hear you moan the way you did when I put my mouth
on you.” He grips his dick at the base, stroking himself over the condom. “I wanted to get you off in the water and then play with your tits while you rode me.”
I gasp, put more pressure on my clit, moving my fingers faster, because his words are so hot.
“Is that what you were thinking about too?” He takes another step closer. “When you put your hands on yourself that night, were you imagining they were mine?”
“Yes.” I hold his gaze and stroke my clit again. My hips buck off the bed, and it’s like he feels it too. His lips part and he takes another step. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met.”
“Not touching you has been making me crazy.” He joins me on the bed. The weight of him is delicious, and I moan as he settles between my thighs. He trails one hand down my body until he grips my hip. The other stays by my face, skimming my jaw, my lips.
I lift my hips, and he holds my gaze as his cock presses against my entrance and he slowly slides into me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says.
I rise to meet him, relaxing my hips and opening my body to take him all the way in. We both gasp, and he buries his face in my neck. “Christ. You feel so good. So fucking good. I knew you’d feel like this.”
He kisses my neck. Sucks. The hand at my hip curls into my flesh, guiding me as he moves inside me. He starts slow. I try to urge him on with my hips—because it’s amazing and I want more. I want everything he can give me. But he holds me still.
“I’m trying to make this last,” he whispers in my ear. “I promise next time I’ll fuck you as hard and fast as you want, but if you keep moving like that under me, this is going to be over too soon. I’ve been waiting for this too long to rush it.”
The words shoot pleasure through me as sure as his touch, and with it a heady sense of power. Because he’s wanted me as much as I’ve wanted him. Because this is good for him too.
He sweeps his lips down the side of my neck, and that hand at my hip slides under my knee. He draws up my leg and opens me wider. His long, slow strokes go deeper, and our moans echo off the walls, the sound of our pleasure tangling like our bodies.
