A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

by Regina Kyle

  “Good, isn’t it?”

  Good didn’t come close to describing what he was feeling. She moved closer, so close the hint of scotch on her breath and her coconut shampoo flooded his senses.

  “Want some more?”

  Oh, yeah. He wanted more.

  Eyes still closed, he nodded, his mouth suddenly on strike.

  “How about something a little different?” He felt her weight shift forward and heard the scrape of the cutting board as she slid it across the table. “What’s your preference? Fruit? Meat? Carbs?”

  He had a preference, all right. But it wasn’t for fruit, meat, or carbs, and it wasn’t one he was going to confess to her. “Surprise me.”

  “Feeling adventurous?”

  He swallowed a groan. “You have no idea.”

  “Then keep your eyes closed and your mouth open.”

  The snick of the knife on the cutting board was followed by the brush of her fingers on his lips and an explosion of competing flavors on his tongue.

  “How does it taste?”

  “Rich. Sweet. Creamy.” Like he imagined she’d be if he got the chance to taste her again. “What is it?”

  “Camembert and truffle honey.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  “It is.” Was it his imagination, or had her voice gotten huskier, more carnal? “But it’s worth it, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely.”

  “What next? I’ve got some pork rillettes. Or a really nice soppressata.”

  “Neither.” He opened his eyes and took the knife from her unsuspecting fingers. “It’s my turn to feed you.”

  “Okay.” She opened her mouth and stared at him expectantly.

  His lips curled into the start of a smile. Turnabout was fair play, and he was going to enjoy teasing her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like closing your eyes.”

  She bit her lip and stared down at the smorgasbord. “How can I be sure you won’t put together some terrible flavor combination, like grapefruit and Gorgonzola?”

  “You can’t.” His mouth curved higher. “You’ll have to trust me.”

  She hesitated, then lowered her eyelids.

  “Good. No peeking.”

  He studied the assortment on the cutting board. He had no clue what went with what, or which was the Comté and which was the Camembert. He went by raw instinct, slicing off a piece of warm, soft cheese and topping it with an apple slice.

  “Open.”

  She obeyed, and he lifted his culinary masterpiece to her lips. She took a small, tentative bite, then another, bigger one.

  “What’s the verdict?”

  “Granny Smith apple and Brie. A perfect pairing.” She licked her lips, and his brain short-circuited. “You’re a natural. Are you sure you don’t have experience in the kitchen?”

  “Not the kind of experience you’re talking about.” He dragged his gaze from her way-too-tempting mouth, only to have it land on her chest, the soft swell of her breasts peeking from the V-neck of her pajama top. Not. Helping.

  She laughed, the husky, sexy sound making his nerve endings sizzle. “Forget I asked.”

  He grabbed the knife from the cutting board. “Ready for something else?”

  “Why not?” Her lips parted slightly in anticipation.

  He hesitated, the knife hovering over a stick of what looked like some sort of salami. “Any suggestions?”

  “You did pretty well on your own last time.” She tucked her legs underneath her and sank deeper into the couch cushions. “Trust your instincts.”

  His instinct was to toss her over his shoulder like a caveman and carry her off to his bedroom, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t on the menu. He settled for cutting off a slice of the mystery meat and stacking it on a cracker. He held it up to her mouth, doing his best to avoid contact as she took her first nibble.

  “How’s that?” he asked, his voice strangled, choked with desire. He shouldn’t want her. It was wrong on every level. He was her employer. He should slam on the brakes, walk—no, run—away, at least until they had a chance to talk about whatever was happening between them. But none of that logic topped the tsunami of sexual energy flooding his body.

  “Soppressata on a classic Club cracker. Simple, but delicious.” She opened her mouth for another taste, letting out a little moan when he fed her the rest.

  “Still hungry?” he asked when she finished.

  “Starving.”

  She licked her lips again. Christ, he wished she would stop doing that. It wasn’t fair to expect a man to control himself faced with that kind of invitation.

  He cleared his throat. “What else would you like to try?”

  She opened her eyes, and he was struck by the heat he saw in their depths. One hand crept out to rest on his thigh, like she was afraid to scare him off. It stopped just short of the now obvious bulge in his sweats, her eyes never leaving his.

  “You.”

  …

  Mallory had clearly lost her mind.

  Or maybe it was crouching on a cliff in the middle of a near hurricane while two people she cared about battled death and the elements on a narrow ledge a few feet below that had her throwing caution to the wind and propositioning her boss. Either way, there was no turning back now. Not that she wanted to, not with the evidence of her effect on him inches from her hand.

  He pried her fingers off his thigh, and a wave of mortification threatened to drown her. His body might be saying yes, but it looked like his brain was screaming not in this lifetime. What had she been thinking? Taking a job hundreds of miles from home, in a place she’d never been, working for a man she’d never met, doing a job she was hugely overqualified for was one kind of crazy. Hitting on her billionaire boss was another.

  She retreated to the opposite end of the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, I know what I was thinking, but obviously it’s not what you’re thinking even though I thought we were thinking the same thing.”

  “Mallory.” If she’d thought her name sounded like sin on his lips before, now it was pure sex, fueled by the late hour, lack of sleep, and good scotch.

  “Yes?”

  “Stop talking.”

  “I can’t help it. When I get nervous or embarrassed I babble, and right now I think I’m more nervous and embarrassed than I’ve been in my entire…”

  In one swift move, he was over her, his hands in her hair and his mouth on hers, swallowing her words in the most delicious way imaginable. She was too stunned to protest even if she wanted to—which she so did not. She was done fighting this thing, and it looked like—finally—he was, too.

  She moaned into his mouth and rocked her hips, more turned on than she’d ever been. Her hands left her sides to explore his neck, his shoulders, the swell of his biceps as his arms wound around her back.

  The lights flickered and went out, and she stiffened. In the pitch darkness, the wind and rain seemed to batter the house even harder.

  “It’s okay,” Rhys whispered against her lips, his strong arms banding tighter, pinning her to him. “Give it a few seconds. The generator will kick in.”

  “Oliver…”

  “Is fine.” Rhys’s mouth moved to her cheek, then her jaw, then her neck, leaving kisses—and goose bumps—in its wake. “Fast asleep, I’m sure.”

  The lights flickered back on. She threaded her hands in his hair as his mouth slid lower still. “Maybe that was a sign.”

  “Of what?” He nipped the delicate skin at the hollow where her neck met her shoulder.

  She let her head fall back, loving the delicious incongruity of his full, soft lips and rough stubble on her fevered flesh. She was starving, desperate for him. “That we shouldn’t do this.”

  “But we’re going to, aren’t we?” It sounded more like a statement than a question, as if their lovemaking was a done deal.

&n
bsp; “I can’t stop myself,” she admitted, breathless. “I don’t want to.”

  “Neither do I.”

  His lips returned to hers, and they gave in to the desire that had been swirling between them for weeks. Her skin sizzled. Her stomach flip-flopped. He heated her from the inside out, turning her into a molten mass of want.

  Without warning, he broke off and stood, taking her with him.

  She wrapped her arms and legs around him and squeezed tight. “What are you doing?”

  “Not here,” he growled, moving toward the one hall in the house she’d never gone down—the one that led to the master bedroom. “Our first time is not going to be on my goddamn living room couch.”

  Our first time. Her heart leaped. She’d been trying to live in the moment and push aside all her worries about the morning after. Knowing he wasn’t thinking about this as one-and-done made that a lot easier.

  “Oh.”

  If Rhys was disappointed in her anemic response, he didn’t show it. He dropped kisses on her forehead, eyelids, even the sensitive shell of her ear as he shouldered his way through the bedroom door and hit the light switch, casting a warm yellow glow. He stopped next to the bed and let her slide down his body. She felt every hard edge and smooth curve of him, making her already racing heart pound faster.

  His busy fingers grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and lifted it up. Not one to stand in the way of anything that would facilitate a little skin-on-skin action, she raised her arms over her head, allowing him to pull it off. His hungry gaze raked her too-small chest and slightly rounded belly.

  She moved to cover herself, but he stopped her, his hands closing around her wrists. “Don’t. You’re perfect. Better.”

  “Than what?” she asked, half afraid for the answer.

  “Than I imagined.”

  He released her hands, and they fluttered to her sides. “You imagined this?”

  “So many times.” His voice was deep and gravelly, and his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. “You have no idea.”

  “I think I do.” It was her turn to rake him from head to toe. He had way too much clothing on, and she mentally willed him to take off his shirt, so they’d be on even footing. “I imagined you, too.”

  “Fuck, Mallory.” His hands tore through his hair. “You can’t say things like that.”

  She blinked up at him. “Why not?”

  “Because now I can’t help but picture you lying in your bed upstairs, touching yourself while you thought of me.” He slid one hand up her thigh to the opening between her legs, rubbing her through the light cotton of her pajamas. “Did you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. She ducked her head to hide the flush she could feel creeping up her cheeks.

  “Don’t,” he said again. “Don’t be self-conscious.”

  He tipped her chin up with a finger, forcing her to look at him as his other hand continued to tease her. “Do you know what I did after we kissed the other night?”

  “No.” The word came out on a moan.

  “I went to my room and took a long, cold shower. And when that didn’t work, I jacked off. I was hoping it would get you out of my system.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Fuck no.” He replaced his hand with his rock-hard erection, lifting her leg and hooking it around his back. “Does it feel like it worked?”

  “Fuck no,” she echoed, making him chuckle.

  His eyes darkened, and he ducked his head to murmur low and seductive in her ear. “Then how about we put ourselves out of our misery?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, laying her on the bed and following her down. Somewhere along the way, he managed to strip off his shirt and sweats, leaving him in only a pair of form-fitting boxer briefs.

  Christ, he was beautiful. Even seeing him on the beach in those running shorts hadn’t prepared her for this. For him, all firm muscle and tight skin, up close and personal. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. Thigh to thigh.

  “Need you naked.” His hands trailed down her sides, over her rib cage, to the waistband of her pajama pants, igniting a string of sparks.

  Mallory lifted her hips for him to slide them off, and they went the way of her top. She reached out a tentative finger to touch the bulge under his boxers, then pulled it back. “Now you.”

  He took her hand and brought it back to his groin. “Only if you return the favor.”

  She inhaled deeply and held her breath, trying to stop her hands from shaking as she hooked her thumbs in the elastic of his boxers and began to slide them down. His skin was superheated, scorching the tips of her fingers, and she sucked in a gasp when he sprang free from his spandex prison, stiff and pulsing, smooth skin stretched tight over rigid flesh. She froze midthigh, her hands still clutching his waistband.

  “Don’t stop now. Not when it’s just getting interesting.”

  He sounded as hungry for her as she was for him. The thought that she’d brought him to this point—drowning in need, drunk with desire—thrilled her and made her bold. She inched his boxers down his legs to his ankles. “If you ask me, things got interesting when you went all caveman and carried me off to your bedroom.”

  He kicked his boxers the rest of the way off and pulled her against him, aligning their bodies so she could feel every glorious ridge and valley of him. “If you found that interesting, you’re going to love what’s next.”

  Flipping her onto her back, he covered her with his weight, his strong arms anchored above her. Her eyes flickered from his chiseled abs, to his powerful chest, to his broad shoulders, finally landing on his lips. Swollen and shining from their kisses, they curved into a smile that slayed her. When he looked at her like that, she was a goner.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, returning his smile tenfold. “Or stare at me all night?”

  His grin got even bigger, and she fell even further. “As much as I like looking at you, I’m going to have to go with option A.”

  He skimmed his lips down her neck, leaving hot, openmouthed kisses behind her ear, on her jaw, and on the curve of her cleavage that had her panting and clawing at his back. She silently begged him to continue his journey to her nipple, but instead he retraced his path, wrapping a hand in her hair to anchor her head as he took her mouth, his lips moving forcefully, assuredly on hers. She opened to him, and he accepted the invitation, deepening the kiss as his free hand wandered over her body, skimming her breast, her waist, her hip. Arching her back, she rocked her wet center against his erection, showing him where she wanted him most. “Shit. Condom.” He rolled away from her and stood. “I think I’ve got a couple in here somewhere.”

  He disappeared into the master bath, and she could hear him rummaging through the cabinets.

  “You think? You mean you’re not sure?” She grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest, not bothering to try to hide her disappointment.

  “Sex hasn’t exactly been a priority for me lately.”

  The drawer slamming continued for a few minutes, and Mallory had just about lost hope when Rhys came striding out of the bathroom with all the confidence and swagger of a knight who’d slain a dragon. A very naked, very aroused knight holding two foil packets aloft in one hand. “Success.”

  He ripped one open with his teeth and slid it on, tossing the other onto the nightstand. It was a first for her, openly staring as her lover suited up, and she was fascinated by his movements. The ease with which he held himself. The confident way he pinched the top of the condom, slipped it on, and rolled it down, smoothing it over each inch of his hard length.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  Her cheeks warmed and she and looked away. The intricate pattern on the geometric rug was fascinating…

  “Hey.” His voice, low but urgent, drew her eyes back to him. She tried to keep her gaze above the waistline this time. “A man likes to be admired. And to admire.”

  He gestured to the pillow.

  She released her death grip, letting it fall in slow
motion to the floor.

  “That’s more like it.”

  He stood, gloriously exposed in the middle of the room wearing only a condom, and studied her. His eyes danced with a sexy sort of mischief as they raked her up and down, sending prickles of anticipation racing across her skin. After a long minute, he joined her on the bed, covering her body with his and making every inch of her aware of every inch of him. “Are you ready?”

  She loved that he asked. That he didn’t plunge right in without making sure she was mentally prepared for what they were about to do. Like he realized what a huge leap they were taking and wanted to make sure they were both all in, holding hands as they stepped off the cliff.

  But they couldn’t stop now. They’d already left solid ground and were in free fall.

  She licked her lips and nodded.

  He sank inside her and started to move, slowly at first, then faster. Her lips parted and she moaned as he filled her again and again. A shiver ran down her spine as she took it all in. This man. This night. Their intense connection.

  She closed her eyes and buried her head in his shoulder, inhaling his spicy, sweaty scent.

  He stopped thrusting, creating a whole new set of sensations. “Too much?”

  “No.” She breathed in again, loving the feel of him stiff and stationary inside her. If anything, it wasn’t enough. She was afraid it would never be enough.

  He lowered himself to his elbows and pushed into her, teasing, shallow thrusts that had her whole body humming like a live electrical wire.

  She hitched one leg around his waist and moved against him, meeting his rhythm.

  He picked up the pace, and her other leg joined the first, crossing at the ankles.

  “Rhys.” His name slipped out as she drew him deeper, digger her fingernails into his back.

  He pressed his lips to her jaw. Almost without thinking, she let her head fall back, giving him free rein over her neck, shoulders, and breasts, his wandering mouth finally finding her nipple. That was all it took to push her over the edge into oblivion, shattering beneath him. Rhys wasn’t far behind, groaning her name as he climaxed.

  He rested his forehead on hers, and they waited for the tremors to subside. After a few minutes of blissful, postorgasmic togetherness, he rolled off her and headed for the bathroom to dispose of the condom. She started to sit up, not sure what she was supposed to do. Go? Stay? Join him in the bathroom and suggest they share a shower?