Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(100)

My first response is to laugh at that, but I can't get the breath for it. I feel tight and stretched and warm, leaning my body forward just enough that I can feel pressure on my clit. Oh yes. Yes, I like that.

“God yes,” Zayden groans as I get into the movement, grinding our hips together, the bounce of the trampoline the perfect backdrop, letting our bodies rock into one another with each movement. “Faster, babe. Work me hard.” I kind of want to tell Zayden to stuff it with the dirty talk, but then … I like it. A lot.

I work our bodies until the cold droplets of rain turn to hot drips of sweat, Zayden's hands sliding up and taking hold of my breasts as I drive him into me, actually enjoying doing the work more than I thought I would.

I feel powerful up here, in control. It's definitely fun both ways, but tonight, this is exactly what I need. Zayden is exactly who I need.

I move my body hard and fast until I feel his muscles clenching beneath me, his thumbs grazing across the tender points of my nipples as he comes with a deeply satisfying sound. My own body is thrumming and pulsing, desperate for a release of my own.

Zayden sucks in a deep breath and pushes me off, sliding down between my legs before I can even puzzle out what he's planning. Two fingers slide in deep as he presses that full mouth of his up against my clit, tongue flicking out and tasting me as Zay takes hold of my hip bone with his opposite hand, locking me in place.

The drizzle turns into a violent pour in an instant, the sharp salt scent of the bay drifting across my parted lips as I tangle my fingers in Zay's hair and pull his face against me. With the stars above and the warmth of him below, I don't want this to ever end. I want to stay here on this trampoline with Zayden forever, make love in the grass, on the tire swing, against the base of one of the massive redwood trees.

But my body's a traitor, grasping at me with the hot hands of pleasure and pulling me under, letting that bright white light of an orgasm crash over and consume me.

There's a single instant there where everything is clear, sharp, where it all makes sense. I want Zayden to fall in love with me. As quick as the clarity comes, it's gone, leaving me a tangled mess of cold and wet and shaking emotions.

“Oh, baby,” Zayden says, sliding up over me and pressing his mouth to my throat. “Let's go inside.”

I nod and let him help me up, the process complicated by the sway and bounce of the trampoline. Plus … I'm sort of naked and wet—in more than one way. I let Zay jump off first and when he holds his arms up to me, I reach down and put my hands flat on his shoulders, jumping into him.

We stumble back a few inches in the wet grass and then pause, Zay's sea glass green eyes gazing down at me with a faint sort of wonder. I try to decipher it's meaning, but he blinks it away as fast as it came, pulling away and grabbing my hand to drag me inside.

The dogs burst out around our feet as soon as we open the sliding glass door, but Zay ignores them, grabbing a hoodie off the table and tossing it to me as he retreats into the bathroom for a pair of towels. He tosses one over as I sit my shaking ass in a chair, bare butt cheeks cold against the wood surface as I tousle my ponytail, trying to wick as much moisture out as I can before I yank the hoodie on.

“Is this … does this have … why do you have a sweatshirt with David Bowie on it?”

“Um,” Zayden says, leaning over me with his sexy ass bare chest and nipple rings all up in my face. “This isn't just David Bowie, okay? This is Jareth the Goblin King, duh.”

I stare up at him and he sighs.

“Okay, you fucking millennial, this is from the Labyrinth.”

“I think we're both millennials actually,” I say, but I don't really care about any of it. The Labyrinth—which I have seen, thank you very much—or millennials, but I'm all twisted up inside and I can't quite think clearly right now.

Zayden stands up and claps his hands together, using his foot to open the oven door. Inside, there's some sort of … pie?

“What the hell is that?” I ask as he pulls it out and presents it to me. There's a shiny latticework crust on top and everything. Whoa. Fancy. “Did you … make that?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Google, baby. Google will tell you everything. I could make a goddamn rocket ship with instructions off that damn search engine.”

“So … what is it?” I ask, crossing my arms over myself and letting my body sink into Zay's hoodie. It's soft and clean and smells just like him, that blackberry/cinnamon smell that I like so much. I'm painfully aware of my lower half though, of how naked I still am, how wet between the thighs. I tuck the fabric down as Zay raises an eyebrow and sets the pie on the counter.