by Madison Faye
I felt her breath catch.
“Okay.”
“I should get to bed,” I whispered into her ear. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Yeah I should pack.”
“My own bed is just…” I trailed off. “It’d be confusing to the children.”
She nodded, turning to smile at me. “I know. I get it.”
I rose from the bed, dressing even though I was just going down the hall. She followed me to the door, wrapped in a sheet.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For?”
“For understanding.”
“I still wish you’d told me, beautiful,” I murmured.
“Would you have taken me into that bathroom?”
“Probably not.”
She grinned. “Then I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Bella, you know this can’t—”
“What happens during the day when I’m watching your children and what happens at night are separate,” she said evenly. “Don’t worry, I get that.” She bit her lip. “I can be professional, sir,” she said quietly.
My jaw tightened.
My cock throbbed.
Fuck me, I wanted her again.
I reached between her legs, making her gasp as my fingers stroked her wet pussy.
“Save that thought,” I growled. “It’s a long flight.”
She whimpered as I drew my fingers back and slowly brought them to my lips to taste her as her eyes went wide.
“Goodnight, Ms. Wilder.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
Back in my room, I pulled my clothes back off and ran a hot shower. The water soothed my muscles and I ran a hand over my face and through my hair.
God what was I doing?
What was I doing with her?
Again, there’d been women since Helen. Lots of women, actually.
But nothing that ever felt like this. Nothing that shook me to my fucking core like this. No woman had ever stopped me in my tracks and stopped my heart in my chest with one look like Bella had.
Sweet, innocent Bella.
I’d been her first.
The thought sobered me, making me shake my head.
Her first.
And I’d fucked her like some sort of bar slut in the bathroom.
I wanted to feel terrible about it, except…
Well, except she’d liked it.
My sweet, innocent little Bella had a dark side. And I planned on exploring more of it.
I knew I should have said no. I knew I should have left it alone, maybe even let her go and gone off to Paris alone with my children. They were still getting used to Helen not being around, and with Bella being so new…
It scared me what her being so close to them might do to them — how it might confuse them.
And then there was the looming specter of Helen and her threats. She didn’t have much to hang over my head, if anything. But courts did favor the mother, even shitty ones like her. If she walked into that court with proof of me fucking my nanny?
Game over.
Best case scenario after that would be split custody. And I wasn’t a cruel man, but there was no way I was letting my children back into her hands.
She’d almost killed them once.
If she wanted to drive into wall and end her own life, so be it. I was done with her, and any feelings I’d had for her years ago had long since gone away. But my kids were another story.
She’d almost taken them, and that I could not abide.
But I was walking on thin ice with Bella. One misstep, and I could crash through and lose it all, which should have made walking away easier.
Except something about her had me hooked.
Something about her had my heart twisted up.
And I couldn’t walk away from that.
I didn’t know how to.
11
Isabella
I stood in the private hanger with my jaw hanging open like an idiot as the airport staff bustled around me, stowing our luggage away. Colin signed some papers, nodding curtly to the pilot.
Of course, he had a private jet.
It occurred to me that I really shouldn't be surprised, but pulling through a side gate and driving out directly onto the runway to a private hangar wasn’t exactly what I’d been thinking when we'd left his Beacon Hill townhouse to “drive to the airport” for our flight.
“Bella! What movie do you want to watch first?”
Instantly, I had mini-people hugging my legs.
Beckham and Lillian were, for lack of a better term, freaking adorable. Of course, I’d babysat before, hence even considering the position. But after that first meeting with Colin — well, after that second meeting with Colin in his study — when I’d agreed to the position, I’d thought a lot about the specifics of the job I’d so willingly said yes to. The sheer responsibility of all this had hit me that first night like a ton of bricks, and that was beside the history between me and him. All I could think was “how the hell am I supposed to take care of a six-year-old and a four-year-old for six weeks, especially in Europe?” And the horrible afterthought to that was of course, “what if the kids are terrible, spoiled little rich brats?”
All those fears went out the window on our first introduction though, when they'd thankfully turned out to actually be great kids. And Colin wasn’t kidding; he was a loving, kind father, but man did he run a strict house, and those kids knew the rules. Over the last week and a half in their townhouse, I’d really fallen for them, too. We’d bonded instantly, and with them already being so good and knowing the boundaries and rules, they were actually a lot of fun to be with. Hardly work at all.
“We can watch two movies on the plane! That's how long it is!” Beckham said, beaming up at me while his sister reached up to hold my hand.
“Two!” she chimed in, mimicking her brother’s enthusiasm.
“Ahem.” Colin coughed as he walked over.
“One movie, you two. Then you need to try and get some sleep.”
“But Daaaaaaad!”
“One,” he said, a bit more firmly to his children, yet keeping his gaze on me. “And be nice to Ms. Wilder, we’d like to keep her.” His face betrayed nothing to me, but his eyes lingered and held my gaze before falling, drifting quickly down to sweep past the front of my blouse, and down to my modest skirt and boots, before skimming back up to my eyes. I felt the warmth of his gaze, and the feeling ran down my spine like a caress.
“Who?”
Colin grinned at Beckham’s puzzled face.
“Bella, son,” he said, kneeling down. He looked up gave me a wink, before sweeping his kids up in his arms and striding up the staircase to the jet.
They say Paris is lovely in the springtime, and while that's probably true, I've got to say, it was absolutely gorgeous in the winter.
The town-car from Charles De Gaulle took us on a sweeping drive down through northern Paris, across the Pont Neuf, up to the front of a chic and yet old-world-looking building on small, quiet, side street off Rue Jacob, in the heart the 6th arrondissement near the Seine.
I was smitten on the drive, ogling out the windows probably more so than the kids in my care. I’d taken French for years, but I’d never actually made it over. As we wound through the crooked cobbled streets and past places of timeless art, contemporary fashion, and haute cuisine, I knew without a doubt I'd made the right choice, however haphazard the decision. And as I stepped out of the car and breathed in the foreign smells, the chilly air, and old-world feel of the city around me, I smiled.
It was much later, after a shower and dinner at a fantastically delicious and staggeringly expensive bistro down the street that offered mac and cheese — a dietary staple of children under ten everywhere, regardless of country or financial standing — and after tucking an utterly jet-lagged Beckham and Lillian in, that I was finally able to return to my room.
My own room, of course. Colin had teased me the night before about th
e flight being long, but honestly, there hadn’t exactly been space to do anything with the children there in the small plane, which was understandable. In truth, he’d been a bit cooler to me all day, keeping his distance, keeping it professional.
Which again, I totally understood.
And part of that was me having my own room here at the hotel, obviously.
As I closed the door behind me and leaned back against it, I sighed contentedly in the silence. Quietly, I padded across the darkness of my quarters and stepped out through the double French doors onto the small glassed-in terrace that sat off my room.
Good God, Paris was beautiful.
The glass muffled the sounds of the city, but I could still hear music playing from somewhere close. I kept the lights off on the warm, cozy little terrace as I gazed out at the city. Reaching back, I pulled the elastic out of my hair, letting my blonde tangles cascade around my face and fall down my back, as I breathed in deeply.
I could definitely get used to this.
I stretched, letting the tension of the day leave my muscles as I exhaled, free of responsibility for the evening, and ready for some me-time. I turned towards the chaise lounge sitting off to one side of the small terrace, illuminated only by the moonlight, and wrinkled my brow. There was a small bottle and a note on the low table by the lounger.
“Ms. Wilder— in appreciation for the excellent work so far and for being a tremendous help, a token of my thanks. The children are asleep, please drink and enjoy, you’ve earned it.”
I grinned and looked down at the very old bottle of Burgundy on the table. It looked...expensive.
I'd obviously known I could legally drink in Europe without the fake ID I had back home, but I’d pretty much accepted that I certainly wouldn’t while on this trip, seeing as I was caring for two small children. I grinned. Just the same though, I was off duty now, and boss’s orders were boss’s orders!
Kicking my shoes off, I sat on the chaise lounge with a sigh. Colin had left an opener for me as well, which I used to slowly pull the ancient-looking cork out of the bottle, pouring a small amount into the glass.
I groaned as I let myself lean back in the chair, stretching fully as I raised my glass in toast to the Paris moon, to my new adventure, and — with a giggle to myself — to Colin, for providing me with wine. I took a deep sip and sighed contentedly as the smile stretched wide across my face.
As I relaxed, I could feel the wine mixing with jet-lag, the intoxicating feeling going right to my head. It felt wonderful after a long flight and a long day. Sighing, I sipped again, and moved my eyes across the skyline, taking in the Paris night as I moved my eyes across the city rooftops until I got to the building across from ours, and halted suddenly with a gasp.
There, illuminated by the moon on a balcony mirroring my own, was the unmistakable movement of two people fucking.
They were mostly clothed — it was, after all, winter — but nothing they wore was doing much of a job at covering them. The man had her bent over at the waist, her skirt around her hips and her hands on the balcony railing as he rapidly pumped in and out of her. From the look on her face, it was safe to say he was hitting the right spots. Her coat was open, and her shirt was pulled up, one of his hands squeezing one of her exposed breasts as she moaned.
I blushed furiously, and my first thought was to turn back inside. The uptight American in me was suddenly embarrassed and ashamed to be voyeuristically intruding on their lovemaking. But then, something stopped me, and I paused.
Call it curiosity. Or maybe it was the wine, but I remained seated and utterly mesmerized by their gyrating movements. My eyes were glued the woman as she bucked against her man while he fucked her from behind. Eyes wide, feeling bold and playfully naughty, I sipped my wine, feeling the warmth of the drink and the heat of the summer night lingering on my skin, making me flushed and giddy.
I couldn’t believe they were outside, even as mild as it was out. And for a second, the wicked thought teased into my head that the only thing that could make this more exciting would be hearing them.
I paused, the dirty thought flitting into my had as I eyed the small little sliding window to the side of the terrace.
Yes.
I moved slowly in the shadows of my own dark watching spot, moving to the small window and cracking it open. I shivered slightly at the gust of chilly wind that teased inside, but I quickly forgot about that as the sounds of their lovemaking drifted into the room.
And God was it hot. I sat back in my chair again and watched as he pulled her up against him, turning her head to hungrily attack her mouth with his own. I could hear her moaning, muttering something I couldn’t quite catch in French as he murmured into her mouth, and she moaned again as he renewed his thrusts.
I groaned a little to myself as I tightened my thighs together beneath my skirt, flexing my legs and feeling the heady, risqué waves of heat radiating from between them. My breasts rose and fell quickly as I breathed, reveling in the wicked and lewd thoughts dancing through my mind as I watched the couple across the way.
They moved back to a metal deck chair. The woman stood astride her lover now, and bent slowly at the knees to bring her pussy down to his cock, moaning and crying out as she slid down the length of him. Heat bloomed beneath my panties, and I moved my thighs together more obviously now, feeling the moisture drip from my pussy as I rocked my legs together.
Breathing heavier now, I let one hand trail down my stomach to the edge of my skirt, teasing my thigh as I moaned quietly at the squeezing of my core.
The woman was sliding quickly up and down over her lover’s lap now, her breasts swaying gently as she fucked herself with his cock. Their cries entwined into a softly erotic chorus drifting across the open air between our buildings. Biting at my lower lip, I let my hand wander up my thigh until my fingertips grazed across the edge of my panties at the top of my thigh. As the woman across the way sank once more onto the thick cock beneath her, I felt my pulse race, and I moved my hand across the thin material covering my slit. Groaning, I timidly traced a finger over the cleft in the fabric, pushing it deeper between my lips as my breath caught in my mouth.
I felt so dirty, so naughty, as I watched the rhythmic lovemaking of the couple. My finger stroked up and down the soaked fabric of my panties, my pussy dripping my desire as I let the sounds of their pleasure drift over me.
A mischievous thought entered my mind, and I quickly looked carefully around, biting my lip and blushing at even the thought of it. Feeling unbelievably naughty, I reached under my skirt and slowly peeled my panties down my legs, kicking them off with a wicked grin.
It felt so free and so damn sexy to feel the soft warm air of the glassed-in atrium tickle its way under my skirt and up my legs to tease my now-exposed and aroused pussy. Languidly, I stroked my fingertip back over my bare lips, sighing in satisfaction as I dragged my fingers up and around the hard little nub of my clit. Feeling my own hot and sticky arousal, a gentle moan escaped my lips.
Reaching over, I picked up my glass and took a sip, reveling in how damn good it was and how insanely expensive it was, which only added to the head-swimming experience. Drinking wine on a winter night under the moon on a Paris rooftop, teasing my pussy while I watched a couple make love. I tilted my head back and sighed heavily; oh, I could certainly get used to this.
And suddenly, there was a noise.
Holy shit, had I just heard a knock? I leaned over in the chaise towards the French doors to my room.
Oh fuck, there it was again. Definitely a knock on my door.
Scrambling, my heart racing, I jumped out of the chair, leaving the wine on the table and danced towards the door. It had to be one of the kids, awake suddenly and looking for me. Flustered, mind whirling at the sudden shift in mindset, I smoothed my skirt down, took a deep breath, and flung the door open.
Only to come face-to-face with Colin.
12
Isabella
“I hope I didn’t
disturb?” He raised an eyebrow to my flushed face, tousled hair, and — I was sure — bright-red wine lips. I frowned in embarrassment and looked at the ground.
“I— No, sorry,” I stammered. “Sir,” I added. “Sorry, I thought the children were asleep.”
“Oh, they are, not to worry Ms. Wilder,” he cut me off with a small smile, and I looked up at him, sheepishly.
He was dressed much more informally than I’d seen him before, which was really just to say he’d lost his jacket and tie, coming to my door in immaculately pressed slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, open at the neck.
“I merely came to see how you were doing, and to see if you’d found my gift.” His eyes glinted at me.
“I did, sir, thank you.” I smiled at him, trying to think of everything and anything but the fact that I wasn't wearing any underwear. Briefly, I wondered if he could smell my arousal, and I blushed furiously at the thought as I swallowed thickly.
“Bella, we just flew six-thousand miles together in a small plane with two children on sugar highs. I think we can drop to first names when you aren’t on duty, what do you think?”
I had to grin.
“I think that’ll work just fine, Colin.” Again, I felt so secretly naughty saying his name out loud. “Oh, and thank you for the wine,” I said, smiling shyly at him, “It’s— I mean, I’m no expert, but it’s amazing.”
He smiled warmly at me, his eyes drawing me in as we stood in the dim light of the doorway. Without even thinking, I blurted it out: “Would you like to come in and have some?”
Colin's eyes flashed to mine, holding my gaze in a steely, dark look. I felt a stirring in my core, my blood pumping a little faster in my ears.
“Yes,” he said, his voice like rich chocolate “I believe I would.”
Grinning like a dope, I stepped into the room to let him in.
“Wine sounds perfect right now actually. I couldn’t fall asleep in my room. The view of Paris was... distracting.”