by Maisey Yates
She shook her head, words, explanations, getting stuck in her throat. But before she knew it, she couldn’t speak anyway, because he had closed the distance between them and claimed her mouth with his.
Six
He was hell bound, that much was certain. After everything that had happened tonight with his family, after Shannon, his fate had been set in stone. But if it hadn’t been, then this kiss would have sealed that fate, padlocked it and flung it right down into the fire.
Danielle was young, she was vulnerable and contractually she was at his mercy to a certain degree. Kissing her, wanting to do more with her, was taking being an asshole to extremes.
Right now, he didn’t care.
If this was hell, he was happy to hang out for a while. If only he could keep kissing her, if only he could keep tasting her.
She held still against his body for a moment before angling her head, wrapping her arms around his neck, sliding her fingers through his hair and cupping the back of his head as if she was intent on holding him against her mouth.
As if she was concerned he might break the kiss. As if he was capable of that.
Sanity and reasonable decision making had exited the building the moment he had closed the distance between them. It wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Not as long as she continued to make those sweet, kittenish noises. Not as long as she continued to stroke her tongue against his—tentatively at first and then with much more boldness.
He gripped the edge of the doorjamb, backing her against the frame, pressing his body against hers. He was hard, and he knew she would feel just how much he wanted her.
He slipped his hands around her waist, then down her ass to the hem of her dress. He shoved it upward, completely void of any sort of finesse. Void of anything beyond the need and desperation screaming inside of him to be inside her. To be buried so deep he wouldn’t remember anything.
Not why he knew her. Why she was here. Not what had happened at his parents’ house tonight. Not the horrific, unending sadness that had happened in his beautiful high-rise apartment overlooking the city he’d thought of as his. The penthouse that should have kept him above the struggle and insulated him from hardship.
Yeah, he didn’t want to think about any of it.
He didn’t want to think of anything but the way Danielle tasted. How soft her skin was to the touch.
Why the hell some skinny, bedraggled urchin had suddenly managed to light a fire inside of him was beyond him.
He didn’t really care about the rationale right now. No. He just wanted to be burned.
He moved his hands around, then dipped one between her legs, rubbing his thumb against the silken fabric of her panties. She gasped, arching against him, wrenching her mouth away from his and letting her head fall back against the door frame.
That was an invitation to go further. He shifted his stance, drawing his hand upward and then down beneath the waistband of her underwear. He made contact with slick, damp skin that spoke of her desire for him. He had to clench his teeth to keep from embarrassing himself then and there.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had affected him like this, if ever. When a simple touch, the promise of release, had pushed him so close to the edge.
When so little had felt like so much.
He stroked her, centering his attention on her clit. Her eyes flew open wide as if he had discovered something completely new. As if she was discovering something completely new. And that did things to him. Things it shouldn’t do. Mattered in ways it shouldn’t.
Because this shouldn’t matter and neither should she.
He pressed his thumb against her chin, leaned forward and captured her open mouth with his.
“I have to have you,” he said, the words rough, unpracticed, definitely not the way he usually propositioned a woman.
His words seemed to shock her. Like she had made contact with a naked wire. She went stiff in his arms, and then she pulled away, her eyes wide. “What are we doing?”
She was being utterly sincere, the words unsteady, her expression one of complete surprise and even...fear.
“I’m pretty sure we were about to make love,” he said, using a more gentle terminology than he normally would have because of that strange vulnerability lurking in her eyes.
She shook her head, wiggling out of his hold and moving away from the door, backing toward the crib. “We can’t do that. We can’t.” She pressed her hand against her cheek, and she looked so much like a stereotypical distressed female from some 1950s comic that he would have laughed if she hadn’t successfully made him feel like he would be the villain in that piece. “It would be... It would be wrong.”
“Why exactly?”
“Because. You’re paying me to be here. You’re paying me to play the part of your fiancée, and if things get physical between us, then I don’t understand exactly what separates me from a prostitute.”
“I’m not paying you for sex,” he said. “I’m paying you to pretend to be my fiancée. I want you. And that’s entirely separate from what we’re doing here.”
She shook her head, her eyes glistening. “Not to me. I already feel horrible. Like the worst person ever, after what I did to your family. After the way we tricked them tonight. After the way we will continue to trick them. I can’t add sex to this situation. I have to walk away from this, Joshua. I have to walk away and not feel like I lost myself. I can’t face the idea that I might finally sort out the money, where I’m going to live, how I’ll survive...and lose the only thing I’ve always had. Myself. I just can’t.”
He had never begged a woman in his life, but he realized right then that he was on the verge of begging her to agree that it would feel good enough for whatever consequences to be damned. But as he looked behind her at the crib—the crib with the woman’s baby in it, for heaven’s sake—he realized the argument wasn’t going to work with her.
She had been badly used, and though she had never really given him details, the evidence was obvious. She was alone. She had been abandoned at her most vulnerable. For her, the deepest consequences of sex were not hypothetical.
Though, they weren’t for him either. And he was a stickler for safe sex, so there was that. Still, he couldn’t blame her for not trusting him. And he should want nothing more than to find a woman who was less complicated. One who didn’t have all the baggage that Danielle carried.
Still, he wanted to beg.
But he didn’t.
“Sex isn’t that big of a deal for me,” he said. “If you’re not into it, that’s fine.”
She nodded, the gesture jerky. “Good. That’s probably another reason we shouldn’t.”
“I’m going to start interviewing nannies tomorrow,” he said, abruptly changing the subject, because if he didn’t, he would haul her back into his arms and finish what he had started.
“Okay,” she said, looking shell-shocked.
“You’ll have a little bit more freedom then. And we can go out riding.”
She blinked. “Why? I just turned you down. Why do you want to do anything for me?”
“I already told you. None of this is a trade for sex. You turning me down doesn’t change my intentions.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.” She looked down, picking at her thumbnail. “Everything has a price. There’s no reason for you to do something for me when you’re not looking for something in return.”
“Not everything in life is a transaction, Danielle.”
“I suppose it’s not when you care about somebody.” She tilted her head to the side. “But nobody’s ever really cared about me.”
If he hadn’t already felt like an ass, then her words would have done it. Because his family did care about him. His life had been filled with people doing things for him just because they wanted to give him something. They’d had no expec
tation of receiving anything in return.
But after Shannon, something had changed inside of him. He wanted to hold everybody at arm’s length. Explaining himself felt impossible.
He hadn’t wanted to give to anyone, connect with anyone, in a long time. But for some reason, he wanted to connect with Danielle. Wanted to give to that fragile, sweet girl.
It wasn’t altruistic. Not really. She had so little that it was easy to step in and do something life altering. She didn’t understand the smallest gesture of kindness, which meant the smallest gesture was enough.
“Tomorrow the interview process starts. I assume you want input?”
“Do I want input over who is going to be watching my baby? Yeah. That would be good.”
She reached up, absently touching her lips, then lowered her hand quickly, wiggling her fingers slightly. “Good night,” she said, the words coming out in a rush.
“Good night,” he said, his voice hard. He turned, closing the door resolutely behind him, because if he didn’t, he couldn’t be responsible for what he might do.
He was going to leave her alone. He was going to do something nice for her. As if that would do something for his tarnished soul.
Well, maybe it wouldn’t. But maybe it would do something for her. And for some reason, that mattered.
Maybe that meant he wasn’t too far gone after all.
* * *
Danielle had never interviewed anyone who was going to work for her. She had interviewed for several jobs herself, but she had never been on the reverse side. It was strange and infused her with an inordinate sense of power.
Which was nice, considering she rarely felt powerful.
Certainly not the other night when Joshua had kissed her. Then she had felt weak as a kitten. Ready to lie down and give him whatever he wanted.
Except she hadn’t. She had said no. She was proud of herself for that, even while she mourned the loss of whatever pleasure she might have found with him.
It wasn’t about pleasure. It was about pride.
Pride and self-preservation. What she had said to him had been true. If she walked away from this situation completely broken, unable to extricate herself from him, from his life, because she had allowed herself to get tangled up in ways she hadn’t anticipated, then she would never forgive herself. If she had finally made her life easier in all the ways she’d always dreamed of, only to snare herself in a trap she knew would end in pain...
She would judge herself harshly for that.
Whatever she wanted to tell herself about Joshua—he was a tool, he didn’t deserve the wonderful family he had—she was starting to feel things for him. Things she really couldn’t afford to feel.
That story about his girlfriend had hit her hard and deep. Hit her in a place she normally kept well protected.
Dammit.
She took a deep breath and looked over at the new nanny, Janine, who had just started today, and who was going to watch Riley while Joshua and Danielle went for a ride.
She was nervous. Unsteady about leaving Riley for the first time in a while. Necessity had meant she’d had to leave him when she was working at the grocery store. Still, this felt different. Because it wasn’t necessary. It made her feel guilty. Because she was leaving him to do something for herself.
She shook her head. Her reaction was ridiculous. But she supposed it was preferable to how her mother had operated. Which was to never think about her children at all. Her neglect of Danielle hadn’t come close to her disinterest in her youngest child. Danielle supposed that by the time Riley was born, her mother had been fully burned-out. Had exhausted whatever maternal instinct she’d possessed.
Danielle shook her head. Then took a deep breath and turned to face Janine. “He should nap most of the time we’re gone. And even if he wakes up, he’s usually really happy.”
Janine smiled. “He’s just a baby. I’ve watched a lot of babies. Not that he isn’t special,” she said, as though she were trying to cover up some faux pas. “I just mean, I’m confident that I can handle him.”
Danielle took a deep breath and nodded. Then Joshua came into the room and the breath she had just drawn into her lungs rushed out.
He was wearing a dark blue button-down shirt and jeans, paired with a white cowboy hat that made him look like the hero in an old Western movie.
Do not get that stupid. He might be a hero, but he’s not your hero.
No. Girls like her didn’t get heroes. They had to be their own heroes. And that was fine. Honestly, it was.
If only she could tell her heart that. Her stupid heart, which was beating out of control.
It was far too easy to remember what it had been like to kiss him. To remember what it had felt like when his stubble-covered cheek scraped against hers. How sexy it had felt. How intoxicating it had been to touch a man like that. To experience the differences between men and women for the first time.
It was dangerous, was what it was. She had opened a door she had never intended to open, and now it was hard to close.
She shook her hands out, then balled them into fists, trying to banish the jitters that were racing through her veins.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
His eyes met hers and all she could think was how incredible it was that his eyes matched his shirt. They were a deep, perfect shade of navy.
There was something wrong with her. She had never been this stupid around a man before.
“Yes,” she said, the answer coming out more as a squeak than an actual word. “I’m ready.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin. “You don’t have to be nervous. I’ll be gentle with you.”
She nearly choked. “Good to know. But I’m more worried about the horse being gentle with me.”
“She will be. Promise. I’ve never taught a girl how to ride before, but I’m pretty confident I can teach you.”
His words ricocheted around inside of her, reaching the level of double entendre. Which wasn’t fair. That wasn’t how he’d meant it.
Or maybe it was.
He hadn’t been shy about letting her know exactly what he wanted from her that night. He had put his hand between her legs. Touched her where no other man ever had. He’d made her see stars, tracked sparks over her skin.
It was understandable for her to be affected by the experience. But like he’d said, sex didn’t really matter to him. It wasn’t a big deal. So why he would be thinking of it now was beyond her. He had probably forgotten already. Probably that kiss had become an indistinct blur in his mind, mixed with all his other sexual encounters.
There were no other encounters for her. So there he was in her mind, and in front of her, far too sharp and far too clear.
“I’m ready,” she said, the words rushed. “Totally ready.”
“Great,” he said. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Taking Danielle out riding was submitting himself to a particular kind of torture, that was for sure. But he was kind of into punishing himself...so he figured it fit his MO.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since they had kissed—and more—in her bedroom the other night. He had done his best to throw himself into work, to avoid her, but still, he kept waking up with sweat slicked over his skin, his cock hard and dreams of...her lips, her tongue, her scent...lingering in his thoughts.
Normally, the outdoors cleared his mind. Riding his horse along the length of the property was his therapy. Maneuvering her over the rolling hills, along the ridge line of the mountain, the evergreen trees rising behind them in a stately backdrop that left him feeling small within the greater context of the world. Which was something a man like him found refreshing some days.
But not today.
Today, he was obsessing. He was watching Danielle’s ass as she rode her horse in front of him
, the motion of the horse’s gait making him think of what it would look like if the woman was riding him instead of his mare.
He couldn’t understand this. Couldn’t understand this obsession with her.
She wasn’t the kind of sophisticated woman he tended to favor. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of the kind of girl he used to go for here in town, back when he had been a good-for-nothing teenager spending his free time drinking and getting laid out in the woods.
Back then he had liked hometown girls who wanted the same things he did. A few hours to escape, a little bit of fun.
The problem was, he already knew Danielle didn’t want that. She didn’t find casual hookups fun. And he didn’t have anything to offer beyond a casual hookup.
The other problem was that the feelings he had for her were not casual. If they were, then he wouldn’t be obsessing. But he was.
In the couple of weeks since she had come to live with him, she had started to fill out a bit. He could get a sense of her figure, of how she would look if she were thriving rather than simply surviving. She was naturally thin, but there was something elegant about her curves.
But even more appealing than the baser things, like the perky curve of her high breasts and the subtle slope of her hips, was the stubborn set of her jaw. The straight, brittle weight of her shoulders spoke of both strength and fragility.
While there was something unbreakable about her, he worried that if a man ever were to find her weakness, she would do more than just break. She would shatter.
He shook his head. And then he forced himself to look away from her, forced himself to look at the scenery. At the mountain spread out before them, and the ocean gray and fierce behind it.
“Am I doing okay?”
Danielle’s question made it impossible to ignore her, and he found himself looking at her ass again. “You haven’t fallen off yet,” he said, perhaps a bit unkindly.
She snorted, then looked over her shoulder, a challenging light glittering in her brown eyes. “Yet? I’m not going to fall off, Joshua Grayson. It would take a hell of a lot to unseat me.”