My smile gets a little warmer and that panic flares again, but I push it down. What's the big deal? So I like this girl slightly more than usual. Oh well. Come hell or high water, when my brother gets back into town, I am done. Outtie. Back to Vegas and bye-bye Brooke.
“Come on. I'll take you upstairs.” I stand up and help her to her feet. When she stumbles in her heels and falls into my arms, I feel this warmth ride over me, this contentment, like this girl is supposed to be something more than usual. More than a mistake or a quick fuck or a friend.
But that's dumb. And I don't believe in fate and feelings and bullshit.
Eight days and this is done. Permanently.
I'm so exhausted from work and from … Zayden, that I forget that the kids have school. Around noon, I wake up in a panic and flip over in search of my phone.
Only to find Zayden's bare back instead.
He's laying next to me with no shirt, no pants, just a pair of black briefs, his legs tangled around a pillow, one arm above his head and the other thrown out across the rumpled surface of the bed. Like this, he looks innocent and peaceful.
Last night, he was anything but.
I wrap my arms around my body and suck in several deep breaths, realizing as I do that I'm wearing his shirt, the one that says I'd Pierce the Fuck Outta You. There's a questionable stain on the front of it that I pick at with my nail, my cheeks flushing with red heat. When I'd walked into that door a few short hours ago, I'd been determined I was going to tell the bastard no. But then he walked towards me in that dark living room, and I just wanted somebody to be on my side, to stand with me, look at me, hold me.
Ugh.
That was so stupid, but … kind of wonderful, too.
I blink away the sudden influx of memories. The kids. Shit.
School.
School!
I shake Zayden's shoulder and he groans.
“The kids have class,” I tell him as I climb out of bed and grab two handfuls of sheet, jerking them away from him. The motion's enough to jar him out of sleep for a second. He looks up at me and blinks slowly a couple of times before his mouth curves into a smile that makes me go weak in the knees.
Oh.
Or maybe I'm already weak in the knees. I feel sore and sated between my thighs, but the muscles feel stretched, tight, unused to that particular sort of stretch. I clutch the rumpled white sheets to my chest and squeeze my legs together tight.
“Zayden.”
He sits up and rubs at the shaved side of his head.
“What's up?” he mumbles as he looks up at me in the early morning sunshine, blinking away the fog in his brain. As soon as his eyes clear, I catch this weird glimpse flickering across his pale green irises. It looks a little something like fear, but he blinks once more and it's gone. “What's the emergency?”
“The kids have school,” I say as I search around for my phone. “I have school.”
“Hey, Smarty-Pants. Relax yourself, chickie.”
I raise my brows as I glance over my shoulder at him, realizing as his gaze drops that my ass is bare beneath the fabric of this t-shirt. Crap. I spin and tuck the sheets tighter around my body.
“I already took the kids to school,” he tells me as he tosses a pair of thumbs-up in my direction. “For the next seven days, you have got yourself the best damn nanny this side of the Mason-Dixon line, baby.”
I blow out a long breath and my hair flutters uselessly in front of my face. I keep searching for my phone and then pause as Zayden holds up his. I tiptoe forward to squint at the screen when I realize I've slept in my contacts on accident. Damn. I groan and rub at my eyes, realizing that the sticky, dry feeling is from more than just lack of sleep.
“If I don't hurry, I'll be late,” I say as I struggle into the bathroom with the wad of sheets trailing behind me. “There's no way I'm going to be late on my second week. It's not happening.” I let the white tangle of cloth fall to the floor and strip the shirt over my head before I realize that Zayden's followed me into the bathroom.
Before I can say a word about it, he's stepping up behind me, his hands coming around to cup both my breasts in firm, colorful grips. The sight of that … of his tattooed fingers curled around me like that, really does make my knees go weak. I almost collapse, but Zayden catches me, holding me up with an arm around the waist.
The feeling of his tight arm muscles pressed into my side makes me remember last night, how he held me up as I crumbled, using his strength to finish us both off before he let go. I make a little sound in my throat when he slides his thumbs across my nipples and purrs in my ear.
“You are so fucking hot,” he murmurs against the side of my throat, giving me flashes of recent memory, of his hands gripping me in place, of his breath feathering against my neck as he came with his body locked inside of mine.
I start to pant, feeling wetness bloom between my thighs. The reaction is so sudden it makes me gasp. I reach up to pull Zayden's hands away and end up curling mine around his and squeezing instead.
“Do you want to hang out after class with me?” he whispers, each movement of his mouth a lesson in exquisite torture. “I'll make it worth your while.”
“I …” I want to tell him no because this was supposed to be a onetime thing. This was supposed to be an experiment, a way to capture a little something special to take to the job with me. Instead, it's … addicting as hell. “Sure.” The word pops out of my mouth before I can stop it and Zayden groans, pushing me forward so that I'm leaning over the counter in the bathroom, my hair hanging in the sink in a dark swirling pool.
“How soon do you have to leave for class?” he asks me as I swallow a few times in a struggle to find my voice. I can't believe how bad I want this right now. I lift my head up and catch sight of Zay's face in the mirror, his tongue sliding across his lower lip, playing with his silver lip piercings. “Do you have ten minutes to spare?”
“I … no. No.” I push back into him and he groans as my ass rubs against the hard bulge in his briefs. It's tempting to keep going, to writhe and wiggle and arch my back. Um. Okay. This is definitely not happening to me right now. I refuse to give into an urge I don't even fully understand. “I'm sorry, but … we'll talk after I get out of class.”
I push past him, but I can't stop thinking about last night, about his hands on my throat and his cum on my fingers and—I just can't shake any of it.
“You have more self-control than I do,” he says as he leans in the door frame of the bathroom and I glance back at him, finding nothing less than godly about his appearance, even with sleepy half-lidded eyes and mussy hair. Definitely the God of Tattoos and Piercings. And I am definitely one of his most loyal followers.
I snag an extra contacts lens case from the dresser and grab a pair of glasses, snatching up clothes on my way out of the room. I'd really love to shower before I leave, but I can't see that happening without something else happening.
My steps slow as I near the bottom of the stairs and eye the spot where Zay held me last night. My heart starts to pound and I almost drop the pile of clothes in my hands. It feels almost impossible that that actually happened, that that was me with my back to the wall and my tongue in Zay's mouth.
When I hear him following after me, I retreat into the downstairs bathroom and slam the door, locking it up tight and taking my contacts out with a shaking finger. I'm almost positive I'm imagining it, but it feels like I look different today. I know I feel different, but I can't quite figure out why that is. Maybe it's because my life's become unrecognizable in the last week?
Just last month, before Ingrid ever left, I was getting over my breakup with Anthony, hitting bars with my friends, making appearances at campus parties. I was planning the next year of my life out to the smallest detail, making sure everything was on track for graduation and the beautiful future I'd envisioned for myself.
Now, I'm hiding in the downstairs bathroom of my sister's place, trying to figure out why I can't breathe when Za
y's around, why I'm letting myself go around a complete stranger, how I'm going to manage these kids in the long run.
I lean to the side and let my body rest against the wall. Because of Zay, I'd almost forgotten my night at the club. But how could I? It was ten times busier than the night before, and the crowd was rowdy and awful.
I hated every second of it. Second being the key word. That was only my second night working, and I feel like I want to pull my hair out. All those eyes on me, the grinding thump of the music, my sweaty hands gripping the pole.
A knock at the door makes me jump, snaps me out of last night's memories.
I put my clothes on as quick as I can and open the bathroom door to find Zayden waiting for me, still wearing his briefs and nothing else. He doesn't even seem to care that the bay window looks in right on his nearly naked form.
“You want a PB&J for breakfast? I'm gettin' real good at making those.”
“A PB&J?” I ask, blinking at him as I try to figure out the most strategic way to squeeze past him into the living. Only there is no strategic way because he's a big dude and he takes up the whole space. “Yeah, sure,” I say, just to get him to move away, pad into the kitchen with an exaggerated yawn, arms stretched over his head, the muscles in his sleek back lengthening into a painting worthy image of perfection. Oddly enough, there isn't a single tattoo on that long, lean stretch of muscle. Other than the sprinkle of color at the top that connects his shoulders and trails up the back of his neck, this is all blank canvas.
I feel my breath catch again and have to close my eyes for a long moment. Never in my life have I been this jumpy about a guy before and it's a little concerning if I'm being honest with myself. In my mind, I tell myself I'm acting this way because I lost my virginity to the guy. Everyone always acts like people develop immediate feelings for the partner that was involved during their first time. Maybe it's true?
I walk up to the doorway between the living room and kitchen, folding my arms in front of myself as I watch Zay slap together another sandwich for me. He even wraps the bottom half up in a paper towel so it's portable.
“Here ya go.” He passes it over to me and lets his fingers linger against the pulse point in my wrist. “Have fun at school, okay? And tell Dan the Douche to fuck off if he tries to hit on you.”
“Um.” I slap the sandwich against my palm. “And why would I do that? What if I like the guy?” I kind of don't, but that's not really the point.
Zay flashes a grin over his shoulder.
“Cool beans. Like the guy. Do whatever you want with him … after I go back to Vegas. Until then, Smarty-Pants, I'm totally laying my claim on you.”
The campus at HSU is lush. I'd be hard-pressed to admit it, but it's definitely prettier than Berkeley, less competitive, too. It's not like I have a problem with competitiveness. Trust me, I can keep up. I didn't graduate high school early to then fall behind, but … an academic world without that cutthroat background buzz is nice, peaceful. Even though Humboldt State is a hell of a lot less prestigious than UCB, I think I might be able to adapt. Maybe even come to like it here?
I pass under trees dripping with dew, past jurassic ferns that have probably grown here since the beginning of time, and head out to my Subaru, pausing when a hand clamps down on my door and a girl appears, leaning into my personal space like Zayden does.
“Hi there,” she says, smiling prettily at me. And wow. She is pretty—tall and thin with tattoos on both arms and electric blue hair that mimics the small bit of clear sky I can see above her head. “You're Brooke, right?”
“Yeah?” I answer her like it's a question, mostly because I'm already worrying about what's going to happen between Zayden and me when I get home, and partly because I'm a little confused as to how she knows my name.
“Tinley,” she offers as introduction, pointing to herself with a finger tattooed in hearts. “You're Dan's study partner?”
I blink stupidly a few times and lift my hands to my hair, pulling it all away from my back so I can lean against the car's seat without it yanking my scalp off.
“Sure.” Now that she's mentioned Dan, I'm thinking about Zayden's words. My claim on you. Claim? What claim? That's just stupid guy talk, and I hate it. I won't listen to it. “Why?”
“Because he's my ex, and I just wanted you to know that he sleeps with anybody he can get his hands on.” A pause as the girl steps back in her tight black jeans and tank top. “Anybody. Basically, he's a slut.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Right. Okay. I wasn't planning on sleeping with the guy, but thanks for the heads-up.”
“No problem,” she says as she takes another step back and watches as I climb into the car and shut the door. I turn on some metal music and let the angry sounds wash over me. Something about all that chaos keeps me calm in a way Zayden's pop music never could.
I push my glasses up my nose and buckle myself in, pulling out of the space and noticing as I do that the blue-haired girl is watching me and smiling. Huh. Doubt I'll ever see her again, but still, that was weird, wasn't it? Totally weird.
I head home and pull into the driveway next to Zay's minivan, straightening out the boring gray tank I wore to class, wishing I'd taken the time to put on makeup before I'd left.
“Not that it really matters,” I mutter under my breath, running my fingers through my hair before I climb out and head inside, opening the door to blaring Eminem/Rihanna as I move into the kitchen and cross my arms over my chest. Zayden's rapping to the baby in her high chair as she bounces and laughs at him.
When he sees me, he winks and starts singing Rihanna's portion of the song, completely unashamed of how stupid he looks.
I seriously cannot fight that smile.
“Sing it with me, Smarty-Pants,” he says as he spins in a theatrical circle on the soles of his knee-high Converse. They're black and white, covered in straps studded with bits of metal. They look … devastatingly sexy with his black skinny jeans and his red tank. When he puts his hands together in a prayer position and gestures at me with them, I feel a warm heat between my thighs. “Come on, baby. Let's do this thing.”
He reaches out as Eminem spins his melodic rap, taking my hand and spinning me in a circle this time, wrapping his arm around my waist and turning me around the kitchen as Sadie giggles and screams in joy, bouncing in her seat.
When Rihanna starts singing again, Zay puts his lips against my ear and whispers the lyrics with his warm breath tickling my throat. I swear, I can still feel his hands there, pressing gently against the sides of my neck and face. Chills skitter through me as the song peters off and I take a step back, thighs bumping into the small round table that sits in the center of the kitchen.
When a silly pop song starts pinging in the room, I curl my fingers around the wood and watch Zayden as he whisks a bowl of cereal from the counter and puts it in front of Sadie, still doing a stupid little jig that's really not all that stupid in that outfit with those tattoos.
Hmm.
His hair is spiked up on the one side, the stars freshly shaved back into place. With the slight layer of stubble around his soft mouth, the piercings on his lips and nose, his eyebrow … I'm deep in lust before I can stop myself from feeling that way.
“Look at that,” he says as Sadie picks up the puffy bits of cereal with clumsy hands and shoves them in her mouth. “She's got this all figured out.”
“Glad to see you're enjoying yourself,” I say as I force myself to stand up straight and shove some hair back from my face. “For somebody's who's barely taken care of a child in his life, you're kind of good at it.”
Those white teeth flash at me in a grin.
“Right? Maybe I should quit piercing and become a full-time nanny? How do you like them apples? Because they taste nice and juicy to me.” Zay slaps his hands together and even though I have no clue what he's talking about, I smile anyway. But then he looks over at me, really looks at me and I start thinking about the feel of his hands gr
ipping my ass, the spicy scent of sweat, the heat of his breath against my skin as he came. “You know what else looks nice and juicy right now?”
“That better not be a reference to me,” I say as Zay smiles and I point at the baby. “There's a kid in here.”
“So?” Zay looks down at Sadie. “Don't you think Brooke looks smoking hot today?” Sadie gurgles and pats the cereal in her high chair tray. Zayden looks back up at me. “She agrees, so if she agrees and I agree, then it's pretty much an unarguable point.”
“I haven't forgotten about that whole claim line you laid on me this morning. In fact, the more I think about, the more it annoys me. Has anyone ever told you that? That you're annoying?”
“All of the fucking time.”
Zay pulls a kitchen chair out and gestures for me to sit in it.
“The kids are starting to bitch about the sandwiches, so I've decided to try my hand at cooking tonight. First time since I took home ec in high school, so this should be interesting.”
“You took home ec?” I repeat as I reluctantly sit in the chair and watch as Zayden opens the fridge. There's more food in there than there was this morning. Looks like somebody went shopping. “Why?”
“To hit on girls, of course,” Zay says as he starts tossing ingredients onto the counter. “Classic move that every teenage guy knows.” I watch as he lays out a tray of chicken breasts and a stick of butter, moving over to the cabinet for some instant rice, three cans of soup and some salt and pepper that I know I didn't buy. “Alright, here goes nothing.” He whips his phone out of his back pocket and slicks his thumb across the screen.
“What are you making?” I ask, unable to keep sitting there and staring at his ass. It looks far too sexy in those tight pants of his, the straps of his shoes twisting up to his knees. I know this sounds weird, but how often do you see guys dress up like this? With a studded belt and some bracelets on one arm, silver piercings lining his ears, hair all clean and styled into place. When I get close to Zay, I get that blackberry/cinnamon smell again and it calms my racing pulse.
Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1) Page 14
