“I thought we—”
“Now. If we do it now, it’s still just once.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” He smiled slightly as he pulled up her skirt, shoving fistfuls of damp fabric out his way. “And you want to. Don’t you?”
What she wanted was to lie—but she couldn’t. The only thing escaping Hannah’s lips were these embarrassing, gasping little whimpers. They got even worse when he pushed her skirt up around her waist and touched her. His hand delved between her thighs, and then his fingers nudged her aching clit, and she moaned.
But maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe he didn’t hear.
He touched her again, firmer now, massaging the stiff the nub. He had definitely heard. He watched her with that infuriating smile—how could a smile, just a smile, be sexy? But it was. Even sexier when he said, his voice low, “Fuck, you’re wet. You like my come in your mouth?”
Well, no point denying it. “Yes.”
He shifted so that the heel of his hand rubbed her clit, the pressure just as perfect, while his fingers eased into her pussy. Hannah writhed in his lap, even as she gasped out, “You don’t—you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he insisted, his voice fierce. “Let’s clear that up right now. I want to touch you. I want to put that look in your eyes. I want every single one of your moans. I could do this forever and still enjoy it. I’m not expecting you to come—I’m not expecting anything from you, so don’t even think about that. I just want you to take it, and tell me you want it, and beg me for more.”
She couldn’t help but kiss his sweet, filthy mouth, when it produced words like those. She kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, and he kept stroking her in a way that made her thoughts swirl. Her body felt languid and electric all at once. Maybe minutes passed, or maybe it was an hour; she had no idea, because for once, she wasn’t counting. She wasn’t hyperconscious of exactly how long it was taking her to come, because… well, she wasn’t going to come. She didn’t have to. She didn’t need to. And apparently, that was okay.
Their kisses went from slow and slick and teasing to unapologetically deep, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as his fingers thrust into her pussy. At some point, he laid back on the wet grass and pulled her on top of him, his free hand running over every inch of her body as if he couldn’t get enough. She didn’t think about the gentling of the downpour around them, the way rain slid over her bared skin like a caress. She didn’t think about the soft earth they lay on, and she certainly didn’t think about the passage of time.
Because he kissed her so hungrily, and breathed her in, and touched her like he needed her. And then, all of a sudden, she felt an impossible tightening between her thighs, as if something sweet and ripe were about to burst.
“Nate,” she murmured into his mouth. “I—”
“Relax. Just relax. Kiss me.”
So she did. And he kept touching her, everywhere, and then the tightening happened again, and again, until…
Until she released this long, low, rolling moan that echoed the rich, deep pleasure rushing through her, taking over her body in the best way possible. As if her arousal was a river that had just burst its banks, overflowing into every nerve ending until she was limp and tingling and absolutely astonished.
Hannah forced her heavy eyes open to find Nate watching her with obvious satisfaction. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “You okay?”
“I… You made me come.”
“Eh. I think it was a team effort.” He kissed her again. “God, you’re beautiful. You know that, don’t you? You must know that.” His lips found her cheek, her jaw, her temple. His hands cupped her arse, kneading absently while his mouth moved on to her ears. He was kissing her ears. Even worse, she was thoroughly enjoying it. She felt wonderful. Fantastic. She could do this a thousand times over.
Which was the problem, really. Because she couldn’t.
“Well,” Hannah said, once she was sure her voice would work properly. “Thank you very much.”
He laughed. “You’re thanking me? Really?”
“Yes. That was extremely well done. We should be fine now.”
He froze, as she’d worried he might. And then, after a pause, he pulled back slightly to look at her. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. Because this… is supposed to… cure us.”
“Inoculate us,” she corrected. “Or me. And fulfil your—” Then she remembered how angry he’d been, when she’d suggested he had some kind of nanny fetish. “Well, it’s done now, is what I mean.”
“Yep,” he said. “It’s definitely done now.” He wasn’t holding on to her anymore. He definitely wasn’t kissing her anymore.
But he looked pleasant enough, reasonable enough. He was always reasonable, really—unlike most people. It was one of the reasons she liked him so much.
Platonically.
And now she’d be free to feel that platonic liking without having the waters muddied by her rampant libido or her half-dead crush. And he’d be free to platonically like her back, and eventually get over his unfortunate attraction.
She scrambled off of his lap, because sitting there suddenly felt strange—which was probably an indication that her plan was already working. The grass beneath her felt colder than it had before, more like mud than some romantic earthy cushion. Which made sense, since there was nothing romantic about grass. Or rain. Or Nate.
He stood, woefully naked, and she tried very hard not to look. “So,” he said. “We’re just, ah… back to normal.”
“That’s correct.”
“Employer and employee.” He winced slightly as he said those words.
“Yes indeed.”
He studied her for a moment, and she felt her cheeks heat. If he questioned her, even slightly, she’d crumble. She knew it. She’d lose her head and start waffling on about feelings and connections and a load of other nonsense that she didn’t want to examine too closely.
But in the end, that didn’t happen. Because Nate nodded slowly, and murmured, “Well, I better go. I wanted to pick up the kids today.” He marched off into the house before she could point out that school wouldn’t end for hours, yet.
Ah, well. It was probably for the best.
Chapter Sixteen
Hi Nate,
I know you said the sequence by the lake was fine during our call, but I was considering increasing the exposure a little bit. I don’t know what you think?
Best,
Lisha.
Lisha,
DO NOT TOUCH THE EXPOSURE. Unless you want your model to look like the ghost of a croissant, in which case, go for it.
Nate.
So, that had been a terrible idea.
Nate stood in the playground, waiting for his kids with even more impatience than usual He felt like he hadn’t hugged them in a century—even though he’d actually hugged them yesterday morning. Whatever. It didn’t help that he’d been wandering the streets of Ravenswood for hours, waiting for school to end.
Because he’d needed to get out of the house. Because he needed to avoid Hannah.
When he looked at her, this twisted combination of guilt and desire choked him. It felt like acid, burning away inside, leaving him raw and vulnerable. He had realised two things on his tragically meandering walk. Firstly, that he’d just become exactly the kind of man he despised: the kind who bent rules and principles instead of just rules. And, secondly, that he felt far too strongly about Hannah. Far too strongly. As in, the intensity of his… of his affection for her was starting to seriously concern him.
After all, their shared childhood aside, he hadn’t even known her that long. So why did it hurt so fucking badly when she pushed him away?
Time doesn’t matter. You fell in love with Ellie at first sight.
True.
But he hadn’t realised he was in love with Ellie until at least three months later. Nate reminded himself of this fact triumphantly, before his hazy brain grasped that it wasn’t actually helpful to his situation. In fact,
all things considered, it was rather damning information.
You are not in love with Hannah. Just because you want to spend all your free time with her and you’d like to fall asleep holding her and you think she looks perfect when she comes, doesn’t mean you’re in love with her. You’re just confused because she sucked the soul out of your dick.
Which made way more sense, right? The sex had overwhelmed him because it was so impossibly good, that was all. Nate wasn’t what you’d call a ladies’ man. About a year after Ellie died, he’d picked up some girl at a bar and had his first one night stand. He didn’t come, but he did throw up. It had been a delightful experience all round, clearly, like ripping off a plaster. These days, when he had the time and inclination, he found an agreeable woman and did what needed to be done.
Which, now he thought about it, sounded more grim than erotic.
He wasn’t used to good sex anymore. But he’d known it would be good with Hannah; better than good. He almost wished he’d been wrong, except not really, because he’d enjoyed himself way too fucking much for that. Aaaand now he was back to the guilt. Which, aside from anything else, was an inconvenient emotion to grapple with while surrounded by a gaggle of mums.
Oh, God, the mums.
“Nate, my darling, are you alright? You look like you’ve swallowed something awful.”
I have. It’s the reality of my own weak moral fibre. “No, no. I’m fine, thanks, Caroline.”
“You sure, babe? Won’t judge you if you’ve managed to catch a fly.” Caroline cackled, slapping him on the back, and her friends all laughed merrily along.
It wasn’t that every woman on Hollygate Primary’s playground made a beeline for Nate, or anything like that. 99% of them were more concerned with keeping an eye on their toddlers, or catching up with friends, or trying not to fall asleep at a picnic bench. But that last 1%… that last 1% were a pain in the fucking arse. Because for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, that small group of yummy mummies had developed quite the attachment to him.
Caroline was still cackling, and, against all odds, Nate could feel his hangover returning. Or maybe the migraine threatening his tender skull had nothing to do with last night’s drunkenness. Maybe it was a brand-new ache brought on by Caroline’s reckless good cheer.
Beside Caroline stood Kieran, her razor-sharp bob gleaming in the early morning sun. Kieran was a doctor. A private consultant, actually. Nate knew this because she never bloody shut up about it.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. “In the afternoon, I mean. It’s usually your nanny who comes after school, isn’t it?” She said nanny the way most people would say dog shit.
“Yep,” Nate grunted. They waited, as if he should say more, but he couldn’t. He was too busy dealing with the fact that he’d wanted to correct Kieran—not just her superior tone, but her words. He’d wanted to say, “Hannah’s not the nanny. She’s…”
What? She’s what? The nanny whose mouth you came in? I bet they’d love to hear that.
God, he wanted to punch himself in the face. Was that a thing? Could that be done? Well, he’d find out when he tried it later.
There was an awkward pause as the women around him shared an indecipherable, edgy sort of look. Then Caroline said, in what she probably thought was a delicate tone, “Having trouble?”
“With what?” he asked, his voice a little rougher than he’d intended.
Kieran tutted. “Her, of course. Don’t worry. We don’t gossip, do we girls?”
“No, no,” the women all agreed. Kind of like how his kids said “Noooo,” in tandem when he asked “Did you guys pour that juice all over the carpet?”
“I did think,” Caroline was saying. “I mean, when I realised you’d hired Hannah Kabbah, I went home and I said to my Mitchell, I should pull Nate aside—”
Nate looked up sharply. “Why?”
“Oh, sweetie. Don’t you know? Gosh, I definitely should’ve said something.”
He gave Caroline a steady look. “I know everything I need to know about Hannah. What I’m asking is why the hell you’d think you could talk shit about her.”
There was a sharp little intake of breath all around them at the word shit. Oh fucking well. He really was not in the mood. Caroline set her shoulders and forged ahead—which was pretty brave, since Nate was well aware that his face looked like thunder right now.
Thunder. Lightning. Hannah’s mouth, wet with rain, and her slick hands all over him, and her—
“Clearly,” Caroline sniffed, “you don’t know as much as you think. If you did, you wouldn’t let her near your children.”
“I wouldn’t let you near my children,” he said calmly, “because when you drive yours to school every morning, you’re still drunk from the night before. Which we can all smell on you, by the way. And while we’re talking about who would and would not get near my kids…” He speared Kieran with a glare. “You can wipe that smug look off your face, because I saw your shitty fucking Facebook post about vaccines and autism. What the hell kind of doctor are you, anyway?”
Kieran stepped back, a hand fluttering to her chest. “I—”
“Shut up. That was a rhetorical question.” He turned to glare at every other member of the now deathly-silent circle. “Hannah Kabbah watches my kids because she’s smart, she’s honest, she’s compassionate, and she knows what the fuck she’s doing. That’s it. That’s what I need, that’s what she’s got. If you want to talk shit about her, I can’t stop you. But you better not do it where I can hear. You won’t like the result.”
For a moment, silence reigned in their little bubble despite the chatter of the playground around them. Then, after a sharp jerk of the head from Caroline, all of the women began drifting away with narrowed eyes and resentful mutterings.
If he’d known it was that easy to get rid of them, Nate would’ve sung Hannah’s praises weeks ago. She was all he ever thought about, anyway.
“I really think you’re making a mistake,” Caroline said. “But if you won’t be told…”
“I think you made a mistake when you named your kid Majorca,” he replied flatly. “But I keep that to myself. Because I know how to mind my business.”
She stared at him for a moment, her mouth working soundlessly. Then, finally, she spat, “Fuck you!” before striding off towards her friends.
Which left Nate alone to deal with the fact that he was angry. Really fucking angry, furious in a way he hadn’t been for ages. His head began to pound, and his jaw ached from grinding his teeth, and his knuckles cracked from clenching his fists.
He wasn’t worried, though. It would pass. It was natural for his temper to rear its ugly head when a bunch of snide, self-important fucks disrespected the woman he’d fallen in love with. He thought he’d stayed pretty cool, all things considered. He could’ve mentioned the fact that Caroline’s husband, Mitch, visited the house across the street from Nate’s every Tuesday and Thursday at 2 a.m., but…
Wait.
Through the red-hot, shimmering haze of anger, and the fog of guilt and shame that still clouded his head, one word smacked Nate in the face.
Love? He was in love with Hannah? He was. In love. With Hannah. He felt his lips move slightly as he mouthed the words to himself. In love with Hannah. I am in love with Hannah. Am I—?
“Nate?”
He looked up to find Cheryl Brown, a woman whose son was friends with Josh, eyeing him warily.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I’m fine,” he managed. “Just… bit hot.”
“Oh, yeah.” She gave him a sympathetic nod. “This sort of weather makes my boys queasy. Sunshine, then rain, then sun again. Well, if you’re sure you’re alright…”
Which he was, technically. His brain was just struggling to absorb the fact that he was in love with Hannah.
“Fine,” he choked out. “Really.”
Cheryl didn’t look convinced, but she nodd
ed politely and pushed her buggy away.
So. Hannah. Love. In. Right. Because that made total sense. Why the hell not? Why wouldn’t he fall in love with the most inappropriate, off-limits, sweetest, funniest, sharpest woman he knew? The woman who seemed both all-powerful and made for him to protect, the woman who—well. This list was supposed to be sarcastic, but it was starting to sound completely understandable.
Oh, fuck. He was in love with Hannah.
The school bell rang. The kids would be out soon, and here he was sweating over the fact that he’d accidentally fallen in love with the nanny. This was even worse than accidentally fucking the nanny in the garden. Because what was he supposed to do about it? He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t even ask her out, for Christ’s sake. As long as the power between them was so skewed, he couldn’t do shit. There was a word for guys who started relationships with women whose livelihoods they controlled, and that word was not pleasant.
It wasn’t as if she loved him. Fuck, if he’d thought she even wanted him he might’ve tried… something. But she didn’t. She didn’t. She’d compared wanting him to a fucking virus, for Christ’s sake.
A few classroom doors opened and a handful of teachers led out their students. Just the sight made Nate relax slightly, because soon he’d see the kids—finally—and even if his brain was scrambled eggs right now, he always felt better when he was with them. Calmer. More sensible.
Josh’s class came out first, and Nate practically ran over at the sight of his son’s little face.
“Daddy!” Josh cried. He attached himself to Nate’s leg with an enthusiasm that made Nate both happy and guilty. More guilt! Perfect. It would fit in so nicely with all the… other… guilt.
He bent down to ruffle his son’s hair. “Hey, kiddo. Sorry I missed you this morning.”
Josh giggled. “You were snoring. Hannah showed us!”
He tried not to wince. “I heard.”
“Where is she, Daddy? I thought she took us home, now.”
He’d been hoping that the kids would distract him from Hannah. Which, now he thought about it, was pretty ridiculous, since they talked about her all the goddamn time. Because she was their nanny.
Untouchable: A Small Town Romance (Ravenswood Book 2) Page 18