Chapter Nine
Fletcher
The children shuffle up the stairs toward the hallway where their respective bedrooms lie.
Joshua and Henry share a room, as do Amelia and Charlotte.
That's as it should be. Forcing my youngest daughter to sleep in the same room as my youngest son, the earthworm-lover, would be sheer torture for her.
As the two doors click shut, a sigh of relief rushes out of me.
Now that we're alone, I slump down on the sofa opposite Jennifer. She chose the large armchair instead. As I let my head fall back against the thick cushions, a sigh rushes out of me. "Crikey. Two superhero movies in one night? That's a new sort of torture."
Jennifer grins. "What, you aren't a fan of Superman? The seventies versions were the best, if you ask me."
"You will never catch me wearing a skintight blue-and-red suit, and certainly never a cape."
"That's too bad. I think you'd look rather dashing in a cape." Jennifer wags her brows, and her eyes sparkle with mischief. "Very heroic, for sure. And you've got the right body for all that Lycra."
I splutter at her suggestion. "The children would never let me live it down."
"Really? I bet they'd insist you wear it to parent-teacher conferences."
The image makes me laugh despite my exhaustion. "Charlotte would write a four-page essay about superhero gender stereotypes. Joshua would try to build me a utility belt. Henry would demand I rescue his worms from imaginary villains."
"And Amelia would design you a mermaid sidekick costume," Jennifer adds, tucking her legs beneath her in the chair.
I watch her settle into the large, puffy armchair that almost seems to swallow. "You handled them perfectly tonight. Dinner, homework, the bedtime negotiations, even the great toothbrush debate that we have every night."
"If toothbrushing is your biggest nightly battle, you're lucky," Jennifer says with a sweetly feminine laugh. "My last family had twins who would literally hide in the laundry hamper to avoid bedtime."
"I'm not sure luck has anything to do with it." I stare at her for a moment longer than I reasonably should. The way the lamplight catches her hair makes it glow like burnished copper. "Henry once flushed his toothbrush down the toilet because he was convinced it was possessed by evil spirits."
Jennifer's eyebrows shoot up. "Evil spirits?"
"Joshua told him the bristles moved on their own at night." I roll my eyes. "Cost me three hundred dollars for the plumber, and Henry slept in my bed for a week afterward."
"Poor little guy." Her expression softens, and something in my chest tightens in response.
Gazing at her, I wonder if Jennifer might become a permanent member of the household---at least until all the children have grown into adults and begun their own lives.
Once that happens, Jennifer will have no reason to stay here with me.
I don't want that, anyway. Marriage had given me only pain and frustration.
But Jennifer is beautiful and sensual. Every time she walks past me---in the upstairs hall, in the kitchen downstairs, or even in the car---the sweet scent of her arouses me.
My cock decides now is the time for it to thicken and twitch inside my trousers.
The memory of our one and only kiss rushes through me once more, and suddenly, I realize I'm breathing harder.
Bloody hell. I need to fuck her immediately.
No, I will not do that. Shagging the nanny would make me a cliche of the worst sort.
Jennifer glances my way, dragging her tongue over her bottom lip. I'd swear she's staring at my cock. No, she wouldn't do that. I shift my position to hide my growing arousal and snatch up a throw pillow, placing it strategically on my lap.
"Are you okay, Fletcher?" Jennifer asks, her voice now a sensual whisper. "You look flushed."
"I'm knackered, that's all." What a bloody liar I am. "Sorry, that's not entirely true. I'm a bit...uncomfortable, but I am not exhausted. Not in the least."
Jennifer tilts her head, those green eyes boring into me with an intensity that only makes my condition worse. "Why are you uncomfortable? Because we kissed once and it was phenomenal?"
"I thought we agreed to forget about that."
"Well, I didn't get the memo." She slithers off the armchair, crawling toward me on all fours. Her fluidly graceful movements capture all my attention. "I don't recall agreeing to anything. Do you?"
Bloody hell. She is flirting with me, isn't she?
I grip the pillow tightly, but that doesn't stop me from gawping at her tits.
I can see the stiff peaks beneath her gauzy blouse, and suddenly, I realize, she must not be wearing a bra.
Those luscious mounds bounce a little every time she adjusts her position in the armchair.
My breaths grow faster and harder by the second, and I begin to feel as if a demon has taken over my body.
Why else would I do the unthinkable---letting my cock seize control of my brain.
I slide off the sofa and onto my knees, crawling toward her until I'm mere inches away from that sexy body.
When she leans toward me, her hair brushes against my cheek, silky and tantalizing.
As I glide that hand up toward her breast, my cock becomes a steel rod in my trousers.
Jennifer's chest is heaving, just like mine, and my mouth waters, as hungry for her body as I am for hers.
"Fletcher," she whispers, her voice huskier, "Pretty sure I know what you're after, but we can't...not here..."
"Yes, we fucking can." My knees are beginning complain about my awkward position, but I still can't move away from her. "I know it's wrong, but I just can't bloody force myself to stay away. Go to your room, Jennifer. Now. Otherwise, I guarantee I'll ravish you."
The aroma of her lust has grown thick and heady around us.
The intoxicating scent is driving out all sensible thoughts.
But suddenly, I remember the box of condoms I'd bought a few months ago in the desperate hope I'd meet a woman like Jennifer.
And now I have met her, I should not seduce her. No, absolutely not.
But then she drags one fingertip down her chest, ever so slowly, until it meets the hem of her blouse.
My heart pounds, and I can barely breathe.
Jennifer grabs my shirt to yank me closer, our mouths almost touching now, her breaths teasing my lips. "I haven't been with anyone in two and half years. You're sexy as hell, Fletcher, and I want you so badly I think I might lose my mind."
Her confession unravels the last thread of my self-restraint.
It shatters so thoroughly that I gasp and growl like a rabid beast, devouring her mouth, kissing her with all the pent-up lust that's been simmering between us ever since we met, only to burst free in this moment.
She tastes like the wine we shared at dinner and something uniquely her.
She fists her hands in my shirt more tightly while I deepen the kiss, and my cock has begun to throb painfully, desperate for me to plunge my length into her sheath.
"The children," I mumble against her lips.
"Don't worry, they're asleep in their rooms." She struggles to unhook the buttons on my shirt. "We'll be quiet. Besides, my attic room is the only thing on this floor."
I wrap my arms around her waist and hoist her up and into my arms. While I consume her mouth, she roughly explores my arse with her hands.
How often had I fantasized about her luscious curves?
Constantly. Her warm, voluptuous body presses against me, and the thin fabric of her blouse doing nothing to hide how much she wants this too.
"Upstairs," I snarl between kisses. "Now, Jennifer."
I make a brief detour to snag the box of condoms. While I whisk her up the stairs, she continues working at my buttons.
We're acting like teenagers, unable to keep our hands off each other for even a second.
She lashes her legs around my waist as I grind against her---and somehow keep trudging up the stairs while making very little noise.
"We shouldn't," she whispers, even as her hips rock against mine.
I groan, trailing kisses down her neck. "Tell me to stop."
"Oh god, Fletcher..." Her head falls back, exposing the delicate column of her throat. "Please, I need you inside me."
Her desperate tone does me in. I hold her close with one arm as I swiftly yet quietly whisk her upstairs to the attic door with trembling fingers.
The stairs creak softly beneath our combined weight as I carry Jennifer into her attic room.
My heart pounds so hard I'm certain she can feel it through my shirt.
Her breath are seductively warm against my neck, and every step fires a heat-seeking missile straight to my groin. I can't hold out much longer.
"Fletcher, are you sure about this?"
I pause on the landing, gazing down at her flushed face. "I've never been less sure of anything in my life, pet. But I've also never wanted anything more. This hunger is both right and wrong, and I don't give a toss."
She reaches up to touch my cheek, her thumb tracing my jawline. "I don't want to complicate things for your family."
"You won't." The words come out rougher than I intend. "This is just us. Just tonight. Then we forget it ever happened."
Jennifer twists the knob for me, and I kick the door shut behind us---making barely a sound.
We are alone. Completely alone. I set Jennifer down at the foot of her bed, my hands shaking as I fumble with the buttons of her blouse.
Her fingers are steadier than mine, finishing the work she started on my shirt downstairs.
When she pushes it off my shoulders, the cool air hits my bare skin, making me shiver.
Maybe that sensation occurs only because she's gazing at me like I'm a delicious dessert she can't wait to consume.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I whisper, transfixed by the sight of her lacy bra. It's simple, practical even, but the way it cups her breasts makes my mouth water.
She glides her hands up my chest. "I've been wanting to touch you since this morning."
I groan and capture her mouth again, unable to resist the pull between us.
Her blouse joins my shirt on the floor, and I press her down onto the mattress with its soft quilt beneath her.
Before I know it, we're both naked. Her skin is like silk beneath my fingers as I trace the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine, the downy hairs between her thighs.
I smell her cream. Fuck, I'll go mad if I don't plunge my cock inside her.
I need it so badly it's almost pathetic.
I trace the line of her collarbone with one finger, trailing kisses down to her navel. She arches her back, fisting her fingers in the pillow beneath her head.
"Hurry, Fletcher, please." Jennifer arches beneath me again. "Tell me everything you want to do to me. Please, Fletcher, now."
The invitation in her voice breaks something loose inside me.
"Blimey, you're a goddess, Jennifer."
The time for talk is over now. If I'm not inside her within ten seconds, I'll go stark-raving mad. So, I rip the condom box apart in my effort to grab one packet and roll it onto my rock-hard length. Then, I draw in a cleansing breath, grasp her hips and plunge my cock inside her slick heat.