The Woodsman's Nanny - A Single Daddy Romance

by Emerson Rose

  “On foot?”

  “Yes, and once in my car.”

  He leans back and takes ahold of my chin to bring my gaze back to his eyes. He’s worried, I think, or anxious.

  “Violet, that’s serious. Have you seen a doctor about it?”

  Only my closest friends and family know about my sleepwalking. It’s something I’ve always been self-conscious about. I don’t tell people for this exact reason. They worry, and there isn’t much that can be done about it.

  “Yes, I’m a rare case. I’ve been studied a lot. People usually grow out of it when they’re teenagers, but I haven’t. I just have to be careful, you know—lock up my car keys, special locks on my windows and doors, stuff like that.”

  He still looks worried, and I find it odd that a stranger seems to care so much about my idiosyncrasies.

  “Do you know your birth parents?”

  He shakes his head. “Oh no, we aren’t done talking about you yet. Where did you drive to?”

  “The last time, I drove to the beach. I woke up in the middle of the night in the sand. My feet were wet, so we weren’t sure if I’d been walking in the water.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Six months ago. I lock my keys in a safe when I go to bed at night now.”

  “What if you remember the combination in your sleep?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “But you might.”

  “Don’t worry, Major. I won’t sleep drive up to Oceanside to see you in the middle of the night.”

  “I’d much rather you stick to awake driving to Oceanside to see me in the middle of the night.”

  I smile and take a drink of wine.

  “I don’t know my birth parents.”

  “So a sleepwalker and an adoptee. Interesting pair we are, huh?” I say.

  “Tell me something else. It doesn’t have to be something people don’t know, just something I don’t know . . . which is anything, I guess.”

  “I love tacos, I play golf, and I love social media,” I say with pride, sitting up a little straighter.

  “Tacos are messy, I enjoy golf, and I am not a part of social media.”

  “You don’t do messy well, do you, Major?”

  He looks around the pristine, sterile clean house and then back at me. “No, I don’t do messy well at all.”

  I yawn and cover my mouth, internally groaning. I don’t want him to think I’m uninterested or tired, but truth is, I am tired. I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night on the kitchen floor a lot lately, and it’s a little unnerving. I make light of my sleepwalking, but it can be very dangerous living alone and wandering around at night.

  I should just put a pillow and blanket down on the kitchen floor so I can roll over and go back to sleep when I wake up there. If it were only that easy. Instead, I end up staying awake for the rest of the night no matter what time I find myself there.

  “You’re tired.”

  I wave my hand at him dismissively. “No, no, I’m fine.” But my body betrays me, and I try like hell to suppress another yawn.

  He rolls his eyes and takes the wine glass from my hand. He sets it on the island, and before I know what he’s doing, he has scooped me up in his arms and we are moving across his neutral, uninspiring living room toward the staircase. Halfway up, he glances down at me with warm, lazy eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitches with the hint of a smile.

  “Where are you taking me, Major Steele?” I ask.

  “To bed, Ms. Washington.”

  I lay my head against his chest and my pulse quickens. I’m far from tired now.

  “How do you know my last name anyway?”

  He shakes his head. “Driver’s license?”

  “Oh yes.”

  We reach the top of the stairs, and he proceeds down the hall to an open door at the end—his bedroom. Moving through the dark with ease, he strides straight to the bed and places me on my feet. My feet, not on my back on the bed where I want to be.

  I can’t see at first, but my eyes quickly adjust to the dark. I watch an outline of Major as he removes each decorative pillow and places them on a chair on the far side of the bed. He pulls back the comforter by one corner, creating a perfect, inviting triangle.

  When he’s finished fussing with the bed, he silently stands in front of me. Barely touching me, he brushes his lips against my cheek and a shiver flows through my body. He smiles and drags his nose down my neck. I drop my head back to offer him easier access, and he glides along the curve of my throat and down to the tiny space between my collarbone and my neck. He kisses this spot as if he already knows it’s the start button to my engine, and I moan in appreciation.

  His hands are still not on me when I reach for him. I’m confused when he takes ahold of my wrists and places them back at my sides and begins to unbutton my shirt. When he’s finished slowly opening my shirt, he slides if off my shoulders and lays it on the bed. His hands are on my shoulders, turning me away from him, I hold my breath and close my eyes. Slowly, he pulls the thin zipper on the back of my skirt down, down, down, until it slides off my hips and onto the floor around my feet with a soft whoosh.

  He is quiet. The only sounds in the room are our breathing and the ticking of a clock near the bedside table. A ticking clock? Why doesn’t he have a digital clock that glows in the dark so he can always see the time?

  That fleeting thought is gone in a puff of smoke when his fingers return to my shoulders and begin descending down my arms. He leaves a smoldering trail in their wake, settling on my bare hips. His hands almost circle my whole body. He is very big, or I am just very small. Either way, he holds all the control.

  He leans closer to me, and I feel his warm breath against my ear before he speaks.

  “I’m putting you to bed,” he whispers.

  Putting me to bed? I sure hope he means he’s taking me to bed. I straighten my spine and turn my head to the side to clarify.

  “You mean you’re taking me to bed.”

  “No,” he says, turning me around to face him. He points at the open spot he’s created in the bed.

  “In you go.”

  His words are ones I’d use when tucking a young child into bed, but the tone he speaks them in is commanding and assertive.

  Without thinking, I stick out my bottom lip and frown. I’m disappointed. I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to get into bed unless it’s to be worshiped by this man.

  “Don’t pout, sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep here. My mother is back at the hotel. She’ll be worried sick, and . . . and . . .” I stammer and wonder what part of my having a sleepwalking problem he didn’t understand earlier.

  “I don’t sleep well away from home,” I say. That’s really only a half-truth, because I don’t sleep well anywhere, ever.

  “You will sleep fine, trust me. And you can call your mother and tell her you’re having a sleepover at the Major’s house.” He tweaks my nose and gently shoves me into bed. A sleepover? What the hell? I’m not calling to check in with my mother to tell her I’m spending the night with Major. She would have an absolute stroke. I’d never hear the end of it. All week long, it would be, so Vie, how was it with the Major? How big is his cock? When’s the wedding? How big do you think the diamond will be? Are you going to make a grandma out of me? No way, uh uh.

  He’s across the room now, draping my shirt over the back of a rounded back chair. He’s scooped up my skirt and already has it folded and placed on the seat.

  Meticulously.

  I’m beginning to wonder if his neatness is a result of the military or if the military is a necessity for his neatness. Most men come out of boot camp knowing how to keep their clothes clean and pressed and their belongings well organized. But Major is a little more than just neat and tidy. He’s obsessive.

  “Do you need your phone to call your mother? I can go downstairs and get it for you,” he says, ambling back to the side of the bed where I am still sitting on the edge wit
h my feet on the floor. I’m halfway between spending the night and grabbing a cab back to the hotel. This is weird. How the hell did a one-night stand turn into a pajama party . . . with no pajamas? I need to make a decision. If I stay, maybe I can seduce him, he did say he was going to sleep with me, after all. It’s worth a try.

  “Yes, I need my phone,” I say, swinging my feet into bed and pulling up the comforter. I bend my knees and hug them while he leaves to go downstairs and retrieve my phone.

  Now I have to think of a lie to tell my mom.

  My eyes have totally adjusted to the dark, and for the first time, I take a look around. His lack of decorating is just as bad up here. The bed is huge and comfortable, but other than a night table and a chair, there’s nothing else in his room. I can make out three doors. All are closed, but I imagine one is the en-suite bathroom and one is a closet, with the last being the door that leads to the hallway where the Major just disappeared.

  I need to be naked. If I’m going to seduce him, there can’t be a barrier between us under these sheets. Quickly, I shimmy out of my panties and unclasp my bra and work it off my shoulders. I can hear him coming up the stairs, so I stuff my underthings under the pillow behind me just as he opens the door.

  I feel busted, but he couldn’t have seen what I was just doing without x-ray vision to see through the walls.

  He returns to the bedside again and hands me my phone. It’s dark, but I can see his eyes roaming over my bare shoulders. He knows I’m naked. Good.

  I take the phone, trying to make eye contact with him, but it’s no use. It’s too dark. I pull up my mother on my contact list and press call still not knowing what my story is going to be.

  “Hello? Vie? Where are you? You disappeared from the bar with that hot Marine and I couldn’t find you anywhere. I’m back at the hotel. Do you need me to come and get you somewhere?”

  “Hey, Mom, I’m sorry. I totally wasn’t thinking. I’m fine. We just decided to go for a drink somewhere quieter.”

  “Quieter.”

  “Yes, Mom, quieter.”

  “And more intimate? Like maybe back to his place?” she says, her voice rising an octave with each word.

  What should I say? What should I say? Fuck, why can’t I be a good liar?

  “Mother, I’m an adult and I’m on vacation. I don’t have to check in with you if I want to stay out past my bedtime,” I say lightly so her feelings aren’t hurt.

  She laughs, and I know I’ve blown my own cover by being defensive.

  “All right, sweetie, go have fun with your Marine,” she says.

  “But Vie?” she says, more serious now.

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful. Tell him you sleepwalk and make sure you can’t drive off or hurt yourself.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I will, and I’ve already told him.”

  She gasps, and I imagine her hand covering her mouth and her eyes bulging out of her head. I don’t tell people I sleepwalk. She knows I think it’s weird and embarrassing.

  “I’ll make sure the doors are locked and his keys are hidden.”

  “Is he safe, Vie? I’m not sure if I like the idea of you staying the night with a stranger.”

  “We aren’t strangers anymore. We’ve been talking for hours.”

  And kissing and grinding on one another, and coming harder than I have in my life.

  “Oh well, maybe you’ll get lucky and he will have some handcuffs. He can cuff you to the bed so you don’t wander off in your sleep,” she says, and I hear her clap her hands together with her great new idea.

  “Mo-ther, stop. You’re not into things like that, are you? Wait! Nevermind. I don’t want to know the answer to that question. Gross.”

  She’s really laughing now, like all out belly laughing. I have to sit and wait for her to get ahold of herself.

  “Okay, I won’t tell you, but if you get the chance, ask him if he has a pair.”

  “Ew, Mom, I’m hanging up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Wait, wait, Vie. Tell me where you are just in case. Give me his address.”

  “Just in case what?”

  “Never mind that, just give me his address.”

  I hold my hand over the phone to ask him, but he’s not standing there anymore. He’s so quiet, I didn’t hear him go into the bathroom, where I see a sliver of light coming from under the door.

  “Major?” I say, and he swings the door open right away.

  “Hmm?” he says, but I lose every thought in my head when I see him standing there in nothing but navy blue Calvin Klein boxers that are doing a marvelous job of showing off his pride and joy. I saw him shirtless earlier tonight on the street, but now, almost totally naked, he makes my mouth water and my brain scramble.

  He chuckles when he catches me speechless and strides to his side of the bed. He places his knee on the mattress and reaches out his hand for my phone that I am now holding frozen away from my face like a foreign object.

  I hand it to him and watch as he leans back on his knee to speak with my mother about our sleepover.

  “Mrs. Washington, it’s nice to talk to you again. I’m sorry I stole your daughter while you’re on vacation. I promise to bring her back tomorrow.”

  I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I’d be willing to bet she’s flirting with him.

  “Of course, 544 98th Street. We aren’t far from your hotel.”

  98th Street. Well, at least I know exactly where I am now. Thanks, Mom. Unless he’s giving her a fake address, in which case I am probably in big trouble.

  Mom says something, and he hands me the phone.

  “She gave me permission to keep you as long as I like,” he says with a wink and a smirk.

  “Mom?”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Vie. I told him to keep a close eye on you and to bring you back by ten a.m. so we won’t miss the bridal shower. Call me if you need anything, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she sings.

  “Goodnight, Mom.”

  “Night, baby.”

  The line goes dead, and I narrow my eyes at the Major sitting on the bed too far from me.

  “She didn’t say you could keep me.”

  He shrugs his shoulders in surrender. “Caught me. What else did she say?”

  “That I should ask if you have handcuffs and not to do anything she wouldn’t do—which is pretty much anything.”

  “I like your mother.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  “Lie down while I shut off the lights.”

  He stands up and I lie down. I watch him lift the chair where my clothes are—or were—and carry it to the door. Where are my clothes? And what’s he doing with that . . . oh, now I see. He wedges the back of the chair under the doorknob. He thinks he’s keeping me safe, but if I’m going somewhere in my sleep, I’ll find a way. I’ve tried the barrier thing before myself. Doesn’t work. It’s a sweet gesture, though, so I don’t say anything. Then he walks to the windows and secures the locks on both of them.

  He turns out the light in the bathroom and slides into bed facing me.

  “I’ve got you all locked up.”

  “Now what are you going to do with me?”

  “I’m going to watch you sleep.”

  “All night?”

  “If I have to. Do I have to?” he asks.

  “I guess we’ll see. Your house is unfamiliar. Maybe that will keep me in bed.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  He scoots closer under the soft sheets, and a whiff of fabric softener fills the warm air around us. He nudges my shoulder so that I’m lying on my back, breathless with renewed hope. Maybe he’s decided to keep me busy after all. One muscular arm slides under the pillow and the other slinks around my waist. He pulls me against him so that we are spooning, and my mind goes to every naughty place it’s ever been. My back curves along his front, our bodies fitting together perfectly. Instinctively, I press my as
s against his solid cock. He has me caged in with his arms locked firmly around mine and his face is nuzzled into my neck.

  “You won’t be going anywhere now,” he says in a low growl.

  “I won’t go anywhere anyway if you just keep me occupied. I don’t sleepwalk unless I’m asleep,” I say, wiggling against him.

  “You’re quite the temptress, but we are going to sleep for now. I happen to know exhaustion exacerbates sleepwalking. I had a private years ago who was prone to taking off on foot during the night. He had to be discharged because we couldn’t keep him in the barracks. He was always worse when he was sleep deprived.”

  Earlier he said sleep for now. I wonder if that means we can have our one-night-stand after our sleepover in the morning. A one-morning-stand. That’s a new one for me. I like it.

  “How about a compromise, Major?”

  He groans. “I should have seen this coming. What are we compromising?”

  “I’ll willingly try to go to sleep now if you promise to fuck me in the morning.”

  I feel a puff of air against my neck when he snorts at my frankness.

  “Deal, now sleep.”

  I don’t know if I can sleep now. I have so much to look forward to in the morning. I’m too excited to think about sleeping. The minutes literally tick by. I can hear his clock next to my head, and it seems to tick even louder now. His regular breathing becomes deep and easy when he drifts off to sleep. I feel safe in his arms, and for the first time in forever, I’m not anxious about sleepwalking. I couldn’t squirm out of his grasp if I tried. I close my eyes and try to sync my breathing with his.

  Tick tock. Breathe in. Tick tock. Breathe out.

  My eyelids are heavy, and I feel myself drifting away with thoughts of what’s to come in the morning—pun intended.

  7

  Oorah Marine

  Major

  Never in my life have I pretended to be sleeping until tonight. I figured Violet wouldn’t sleep unless she thought I was already out, so I stayed still and regulated my breathing. There are two reasons I will never close my eyes tonight . . . well three, really. Number one is blatantly obvious—the sexy as hell naked woman pressing her creamy soft mocha skin against my body and her ass up against my cock. Number two is also not difficult to figure out—I don’t want her sleepwalking out the front door naked or falling down the stairs. Third is one that wouldn’t bother most people, but it’s making me crazy right now—the chair in my room does not belong lodged under the doorknob of my bedroom. It belongs exactly four o’clock from the head of my bed and turned to a thirty-degree angle. I can’t sleep until it’s in its place, which is a moot point because numbers one and two have me frozen in the bed.