Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(50)

“Zayden.”

He sits up and rubs at the shaved side of his head.

“What's up?” he mumbles as he looks up at me in the early morning sunshine, blinking away the fog in his brain. As soon as his eyes clear, I catch this weird glimpse flickering across his pale green irises. It looks a little something like fear, but he blinks once more and it's gone. “What's the emergency?”

“The kids have school,” I say as I search around for my phone. “I have school.”

“Hey, Smarty-Pants. Relax yourself, chickie.”

I raise my brows as I glance over my shoulder at him, realizing as his gaze drops that my ass is bare beneath the fabric of this t-shirt. Crap. I spin and tuck the sheets tighter around my body.

“I already took the kids to school,” he tells me as he tosses a pair of thumbs-up in my direction. “For the next seven days, you have got yourself the best damn nanny this side of the Mason-Dixon line, baby.”

I blow out a long breath and my hair flutters uselessly in front of my face. I keep searching for my phone and then pause as Zayden holds up his. I tiptoe forward to squint at the screen when I realize I've slept in my contacts on accident. Damn. I groan and rub at my eyes, realizing that the sticky, dry feeling is from more than just lack of sleep.

“If I don't hurry, I'll be late,” I say as I struggle into the bathroom with the wad of sheets trailing behind me. “There's no way I'm going to be late on my second week. It's not happening.” I let the white tangle of cloth fall to the floor and strip the shirt over my head before I realize that Zayden's followed me into the bathroom.

Before I can say a word about it, he's stepping up behind me, his hands coming around to cup both my breasts in firm, colorful grips. The sight of that … of his tattooed fingers curled around me like that, really does make my knees go weak. I almost collapse, but Zayden catches me, holding me up with an arm around the waist.

The feeling of his tight arm muscles pressed into my side makes me remember last night, how he held me up as I crumbled, using his strength to finish us both off before he let go. I make a little sound in my throat when he slides his thumbs across my nipples and purrs in my ear.

“You are so fucking hot,” he murmurs against the side of my throat, giving me flashes of recent memory, of his hands gripping me in place, of his breath feathering against my neck as he came with his body locked inside of mine.

I start to pant, feeling wetness bloom between my thighs. The reaction is so sudden it makes me gasp. I reach up to pull Zayden's hands away and end up curling mine around his and squeezing instead.

“Do you want to hang out after class with me?” he whispers, each movement of his mouth a lesson in exquisite torture. “I'll make it worth your while.”

“I …” I want to tell him no because this was supposed to be a onetime thing. This was supposed to be an experiment, a way to capture a little something special to take to the job with me. Instead, it's … addicting as hell. “Sure.” The word pops out of my mouth before I can stop it and Zayden groans, pushing me forward so that I'm leaning over the counter in the bathroom, my hair hanging in the sink in a dark swirling pool.

“How soon do you have to leave for class?” he asks me as I swallow a few times in a struggle to find my voice. I can't believe how bad I want this right now. I lift my head up and catch sight of Zay's face in the mirror, his tongue sliding across his lower lip, playing with his silver lip piercings. “Do you have ten minutes to spare?”

“I … no. No.” I push back into him and he groans as my ass rubs against the hard bulge in his briefs. It's tempting to keep going, to writhe and wiggle and arch my back. Um. Okay. This is definitely not happening to me right now. I refuse to give into an urge I don't even fully understand. “I'm sorry, but … we'll talk after I get out of class.”

I push past him, but I can't stop thinking about last night, about his hands on my throat and his cum on my fingers and—I just can't shake any of it.

“You have more self-control than I do,” he says as he leans in the door frame of the bathroom and I glance back at him, finding nothing less than godly about his appearance, even with sleepy half-lidded eyes and mussy hair. Definitely the God of Tattoos and Piercings. And I am definitely one of his most loyal followers.

I snag an extra contacts lens case from the dresser and grab a pair of glasses, snatching up clothes on my way out of the room. I'd really love to shower before I leave, but I can't see that happening without something else happening.

My steps slow as I near the bottom of the stairs and eye the spot where Zay held me last night. My heart starts to pound and I almost drop the pile of clothes in my hands. It feels almost impossible that that actually happened, that that was me with my back to the wall and my tongue in Zay's mouth.