Brother's Best Friend Unwrapped

by Aria Ford

  He started sobbing. That was too much. I marched over the grass, heedless of how my hair was in disarray, how covered with grass-stains my jeans had become. I was sure I looked horrible, but it matched my rage.

  “Mr. Carring,” I said, loud and clear. “Your son didn’t mean to do any harm. If he was not allowed to use that car, shouldn’t you have told me? And there wasn’t any need for hitting. Your son is frightened.”

  Jack hiccupped with fear, his thumb in his mouth in the gesture of a much smaller child.

  “My son knew very well he did wrong,” Mr. Carring said thinly. “I confiscated that thing for a good reason. Look at the lawn!” He waved a hand despairingly at the green grass, now furrowed, here and there, with small brownish wheel-tracks.

  “The lawn!” I exclaimed. “It will grow back. Look at your son.”

  We both looked at Jack. Cammi had gone across to comfort him. As we watched, he pushed her away and she walked off, tears running down her cheeks. I watched Alexander Carring as he looked at them. He ran a hand through his hair. Then he turned to me.

  “Do you have children?” His voice was arid.

  “No,” I retorted, heatedly. “But I was one. And Heaven help me, I’m glad I wasn’t raised the way you’re raising these ones.”

  He spun round, glared at me as if I had slapped him. We regarded each other levelly for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.

  “You have no right to interfere with my raising of my children,” he said icily. “You are their nanny. Not their mother.” He spat the word. “I know our contract was for a month. But you clearly have no idea of your place. Get off my property.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Now go.”

  “Mr. Carring,” I said. I was an arm’s length away from him and I could smell the spicy musk of his aftershave and see a small pulse beating somewhere in his forehead. I drew in a breath and counseled myself to ignore both, and the effect they were beginning to have on me. I tipped my head back to look into his eyes. “We had an agreement. I am here with these children for a month. And I think they are sorely in need of me.”

  He jerked as if I had slapped him. His eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your children are great,” I began, suddenly hesitant. “Well behaved, polite, perfect. They are also nothing like normal kids. The last few days have given them some of their childhood back. I will not let you throw me out and end all that because of some personal disagreement between us.”

  I was panting when I finished, my rage burning inside me. He glared at me. I glared back, defiantly. I saw something flicker in his eyes. He flicked a tongue across dry, perfect lips. I tensed. Waited for the next words.

  “You have no right to criticism my methods. My kids are perfect,” he said quietly. “I…appreciate your concern,” he said sarcastically. “But there is no need for it.”

  “Fine,” I said, feeling suddenly bitter. So he had just fired me. So what? I didn’t actually need to stand here arguing with him. “Then I’ll go.” I turned quickly away from him.

  He grabbed my wrist. The fingers, pressing on it, were corded with muscle, hard and strong. I could feel the warmth of his skin and, somewhere, a pulse throbbed deep in me. I looked down at my wrist and then up at him.

  “You will unhand me.”

  He was looking down at me and, as I wrenched my wrist left and right, trying to free it, what was written in his eyes was not anger. Anything but.

  “Let me go,” I said, giving my wrist a savage wrench to the right. He didn’t react, didn’t move a muscle. His eyes stayed watching mine and a warmth flickered in them, a warmth that excited me. I twisted my arm. He blinked, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He let go and, as abruptly as it had flowered, the tension died. I took my wrist back, circling it experimentally, though I was sure there was nothing broken. His grip was almost strong enough for that. “I had no right to…lay hands on you like that. Forgive me.”

  He was looking at the ground and he licked his lips again, clearly a nervous habit. I said nothing, and he looked up at me. His eyes were bare of any kind of pretense, and the expression I read in them was a mix of fear, surprise and, somewhere in their depths a spark of longing.

  The latter surprised me, more so because it mirrored exactly what I felt. I wanted to grab him, to hold him in my arms, to press that lean, strong, firm body against my own and let him take me, let that wild encounter go to a natural conclusion. But that was my foolish imagination. Fired by the scent of spice and musk, aroused by the depths of his eyes. I was being stupid.

  “I should go,” I said, clearing my throat.

  “You should,” he said quietly. “We should discuss this when we are both more…rational.” He said it with a quirk of his lips that could have been self-mockery. I nodded.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “We’ll do that.”

  Neither of us moved. We both looked at each other and, in that moment, our eyes locked. He was the first to look away.

  When the pounding speed of my heart returned to normal, I cleared my throat again.

  “I should go,” I said again. This time, he made no move to stop me. I walked quietly across the lawn, leaving Alexander Carring and two small children standing there behind me. When I reached the house, I turned around.

  Alexander had crossed the lawn and he was crouched beside Jack. The boy looked marginally less terrified, and Camille looked tense with hope. I bit my lip.

  I hope everything works out between them.

  Whatever happened, I was left with a tumult of my own feelings to address.

  And I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t understand what I felt about this tall, cold authority that had just blasted into my life. All I knew was that I probably never would.

  And I knew that, deep inside, I wanted him. I was wondering, with a flicker of hope that sent chills down my body, if he maybe, just maybe, didn’t feel that way too.

  Chapter 4

  Alex

  I need to be objective about this. She is here, in my home, living just a story away. She is the nanny, for Pete’s sake! I need to be sensible here.

  But how can I be? The look in her eyes when she confronted me. The passion in her voice! And the soft skin of her wrist, in between my fingers, making my body tense and stiff with longing.

  She is fearless. She confronted me without a second word. She glared at me.

  I wanted to smile, thinking of the fierceness in those hazel hawkish eyes. She was a fighter, and yet her heart was big. Why else had she defended the children, against me?

  Am I really as bad as she said?

  I swallowed hard, thinking of that. It was difficult to understand, difficult to know where I had gone wrong in his care for them. All these years since Ada had been here…I stopped. It was still too hard to think of her. Here, in this space, where I could almost, if I listened hard, hear her laughter on the air coming from the bedroom next door, where she lay in a satiny gown, just waiting for me…

  Pull yourself together.

  I shook his head, mind whirling. I had come in here to work, not to spend ages thinking about the new au pair! There were deadlines to meet, forms to fill in, deals to organize I didn’t need to waste this time as it is. I groaned, running a hand across my face, just thinking about it. I was tired. The excitement of having her here had made me forget that but it was true.

  I reached across, yawning, taking one of the forms off the pile I had just printed and, glancing at the laptop I saw it was already nearly nine pm I really did have to get this stuff done soon. But I couldn’t stop my mind from going back over that unexpected confrontation, again and again. Couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the fact that she was here, somewhere, in my house. I had not felt like this for years. My cock was pulsing in my pants and my heart raced. I had thought myself devoid of desire, had thought he had long ago given up feeling this for any other woman. Until now.

  U
ntil a small, pert, and lovely young au pair had confronted me.

  I swallowed, thinking of her curvy form in the tight jeans, her plaid blouse loose and casual under that abundance of shiny hair. I felt his throat tighten at the memory of her pale skin, the moist pinkness of her lips, the swell of breasts pushing the buttons of her shirt.

  She is here somewhere, in my house. Alone.

  I felt my hands clenching into fists. I shook my head, reaching for my pen. Forcing myself to think about work. I should not be thinking about her like this. She was my children’s nanny. I had met her three days before in a hallway, when she ran into me. And now. I recalled the brief first meeting with a smirk. She had cannoned into me, and for the briefest instant I had known what it felt like for those breasts to press against me, for that soft body to be pressed up close against me.

  I wonder what she would do if I drew her close again. If I held her. Kissed her.

  The thought sent an unfortunate excitation my groin I clenched my teeth, fighting it down. I would not touch her. I could stop right now in these games of imagining what she might be like in bed, what kind of a lover she might be. The thought of her, on her back, her smile broad, eyes closed, sent shivers through me. But I would not waste time on asking questions that must remain unanswered: what kind of a lover she was didn’t affect me.

  The fact that I just almost fired her, though, did.

  For that I had to apologize.

  What if she took it into her head to leave? I was here for two days and then I would fly off for another business-meeting. A longer one. I could not imagine anyone with whom I would leave my children, besides her. And it was too late to start looking now. Besides, I trusted her. Already. If she would defend them against their father, how much more so against anything else?

  Come on. Better go do it.

  I glanced at the clock. It was past nine o’clock in the evening, well past suppertime. I had eaten a little at the dining-room table alone. I did not even know whether or not she ate something. Feeling a sudden pang of guilt for that, as well as for my earlier unkindness. I stood and walked slowly from the room.

  I stopped at the window in the hallway, checking my reflection in the reflective surface. Couldn’t help laughing.

  Alexander Carring, you are apologizing to a nanny. Not presenting a million-dollar deal at a business do. Or going on a date.

  The last thought made my pulse quicken and I quickly fought it down. Walking along the hallway I reached the door to the room he had assigned Miss Blunt. Weird to feel this excitement, this sense of delicious anticipation, as I walked up the hallway but I did.

  I reached the door. I knocked.

  No answer.

  I waited, listening. Somewhere, I could hear water running. And a thread of sound suggested someone sang. I listened, feeling my heart beat faster.

  She was in the shower, clearly. It was not simply the thought of water cascading over that naked skin, glistening on her wet breasts and strong thighs that moved me, though. It was the strange intimacy and innocence of her voice. High and clear, it spoke to me of sweetness, of simple pleasures. Things I long ago lost…I am surprised to find she hadn’t.

  I knocked again. The water was off now, but I did not receive an answer and assumed I had not heard. I was leaning on the lintel, lost in pleasant daydreaming when the door suddenly shot open. I found himself looking down into a face that looked up, as surprised to see me as I was in that moment.

  “Uh, Miss Emma…”

  I cleared his throat, feeling deliciously confused and faintly silly at once. It had been many years, too many, since I had been so surprised, so clearly put at disadvantage. The feeling was surprisingly nice. And she was, also, surprising.

  This close, her fresh-washed hair just curling with the warmth of her skin, smelling of roses and toothpaste, mixed, her skin clean and radiant, I had to fight not to touch her.

  Her eyes were wide open, the whites showing all around from shock. Her lips had parted, too, and the space between them was a little “o”. Perfect, he thought, for sliding in a tongue, for deepening a kiss, for tasting those sweet lips.

  I groaned. Emma stared up at me, even more confused.

  “Sir?”

  She was wearing a dressing-gown, and the instant she had seen me, she had clutched it around herself. I could just see the soft white skin of her chest. I refused to let myself stare, made myself focus on her eyes.

  “Forgive me, Miss Blunt,” I said, voice oddly raw. “I meant to come to tell you…to say that…Oh, damn it! Sorry,” I added, waving a long hand in a careless gesture that I hoped would convey confusion. “I wanted to say you should stay. You will, won’t you? For the month like we agreed on earlier?”

  Emma stared up at me. I could not read her thoughts, but I tried. She looked confused.

  I had to hide a smile, had to see it from her viewpoint too. A few hours ago, I had almost thrown her out. Now here I was, on her doorstep, as it were, all awkward and shy with her? It must have seemed very odd. It was. But somehow, maybe stupidly, it felt right.

  “Mr. Carring,” Emma said, clearing her throat. Hearing her call me that made my heart contract. I wanted to correct her. Wanted to ask her to call me Alexander. That would be weird, I supposed. I left it as it was for now. I didn’t want to scare her. “I’m sorry. I was showering.” She continued.

  She made an embarrassed gesture with her hands, taking in the tatty bathrobe, the wet hair, the lack of makeup of any kind. “If you want to discuss our contract, perhaps I should…dress?” she gave a weak laugh and inclined her head sideways.

  “Oh, um, yes. Fine. Of course,” I said distractedly. Emma glanced sideways at him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I was distracted. By, um…the view. Out of the window. Isn’t it nice?” He gestured to the window that looked out over the pool. Lit with floodlights, the water blueish and inviting, it actually was nice. It was only after she frowned at me that I realized how stupid what I had said was. I hadn’t been facing the window when talking to her.

  “I’ll get decent,” Emma said decidedly, then ducked inside.

  I stood there with my teeth clenched while I thought about Emma dressing in the room beyond the firmly closed door. I thought about what her breasts must look like—full, but well shaped. I imagined her nipples to be reddish, her body gently curved and her skin pale under the harsh lights. I felt my dick harden and I wished she would come out of there. She had to put me out of my torture!

  “I guess we should meet in my office, yes?” I said when she came out a few minutes afterward.

  “Okay,” Emma agreed with a little frown.

  A tingle spread up from my groin through my whole body. I was already aroused, and everything about her aroused me more. Something about the sway of her walk was so alluring that I wanted to reach out and draw her toward me. I sighed.

  Come on. You can’t very well take her down there and seduce her.

  I walked along the silent hallway, feet sinking into the satiny carpet. She followed. We reached the office.

  “Here we are,” I said, seeming suddenly hesitant. “My private abode.”

  Emma bit her lip. I wondered what she was thinking. She seemed nervous somehow. I sighed. I wished that I could do something to relieve her nervousness, but, then, I myself didn’t exactly feel confident, what with her so close and in my private space. I shouldn’t have taken her here…I should have spoken somewhere more neutral. But I had. I couldn’t very well change my mind now, not without looking really weird.

  We faced each other over the achingly-neat desk, suddenly hesitant.

  “I asked you here to…”

  “I guess I should…”

  We both spoke at once, then we both laughed.

  “Sorry,” I began, recovering my equilibrium first. “I wanted to say sorry. For earlier. And to ask if we could reconsider. I want you to stay here.”

  Emma stared at me. “Of course,” she said. “I mean, it�
��s not like we tore up the contract or anything…” she chuckled weakly, looking down at the desk.

  “Emma.”

  The way I said her name surprised even me. I cleared my throat, wanting to try again, less meaningfully, less gentle, but my mouth was dry. Emma looked up at me, eyes big and longing.

  “What?” she asked gently.

  “I…” I stopped. I didn’t know what to do from here. She was looking up at me, eyes big and wide and tender. My whole body was aching for her, to touch that smooth skin, to feel her lips part under my lips. She had such beautiful skin, as soft and pliable as petals, or so I was imagining at that moment. I faced her and leaned in toward her slowly.

  I hope she doesn’t hate me.

  I couldn’t help it, though. I had to kiss her. Had to try and if it didn’t happen now it was never going to happen. Her lips met mine. She did not flinch away.

  I felt his loins ignite. Her mouth was soft, so much softer even than it looked. My lips were gentle and they nipped at hers, exploring hers carefully. She sighed and those sweet lips parted just a little, letting me in. It was a wonderful feeling, my tongue inside her mouth, on hers. Her mouth tasted minty and sweet and perfect. My tongue flickered over the moist patch I had left there on her lips, and, as she made a small noise, I slid inside for a second go. She let her own tongue slide along my own. She tasted like mint and something sweet and sinfully-nice. I felt my own body catch fire.

  I broke the kiss and found myself feeling suddenly weak. I leaned on the desk, eyes closed, face before hers. This is the first time I have felt anything for anyone since Ada. Certainly nothing anywhere close to this.

  But what did Emma think of me?

  “Sorry,” I said, eyes still closed. When I opened them again, I wasn’t sure what she saw on my face, but she looked worried. Her brow raised and a little frown appeared there.

  “Sorry?” she said softly. She didn’t seem to think I had anything to say sorry for, which was in itself a relief.

  “I…it was wrong of me to…to do that,” I stuttered. “Not just because…” I left it there, then stood up straight again. I didn’t want to just say: “It was wrong of me because I employ you.” That wasn’t why it was wrong. What if she hadn’t wanted that kiss?