Chapter 12
Twelve
ELLIS
As has often been the case these days, I’m distracted throughout the rest of the afternoon.
There is an appraiser from one of the largest auction houses in the country coming to the chateau in a few weeks to evaluate the first set of books to be auctioned off. I’m hoping to have a larger selection to show him, but that desire is looking increasingly improbable thanks to what happened in the foyer and my nanny’s indecent proposal.
I must be mad. A certified, absolute lunatic for considering it, and yet considering it is all I can seem to do.
Josephine was right when she said this will happen again. It’s all but inevitable. All she had to do was look at me and I forgot myself entirely, pinning her to the wall and grinding against her, coming in my pants like a teenage boy. After weeks of trying to pretend that what was happening between us wasn’t happening, this was a brutal wake up call.
It was also an unnecessary reminder of how good she feels in my arms.
When I give up on getting anything accomplished for the day, I find Jo and Zoe in the kitchen, adding herbs to a pot of spaghetti sauce. Both are in good spirits despite their trying afternoon. The only sign what happened afterward wasn’t a figment of my depraved imagination is a faint color that rises in Jo’s cheeks as I enter the room.
After dinner, for the first time since we arrived, she didn’t join Zoe and I for our evening walk. The two of us retrieve the basket of abandoned groceries from its hiding place, and I can tell by the slump in Zoe’s shoulders that she isn’t oblivious to the impact her meltdown had on Jo.
“I made Jojo sad.” She drags her shoes over the dirt road as we turn back toward the chateau.
My heart twists and I stop in the middle of the road, kneeling so I’m eye level with my daughter. She doesn’t meet my gaze, but she’s listening. “Jojo knows you were upset and didn’t hurt her feelings on purpose. She loves spending time with you very much, mon c?ur. ”
Zoe rocks back on her heels, lips pulled flat and, for about the dozenth time today alone, I wish I could see into her mind and know the exact right things to say.
“You were an excellent help to her with dinner too, weren’t you?” I press on hopefully, and Zoe’s expression relaxes a bit as she seems to accept the truth of this. “When I came in, she had a big smile. You were making her very happy.”
Another few seconds pass before Zoe hums to herself and pulls away from my hand, skipping off toward home.
Straightening up, I follow, feeling another deep pull of gratitude toward Jo for handling the whole business so gracefully. Meltdowns are brutal for even the most experienced of parents, and I’m certainly guilty of losing my cool once or twice. I can only imagine how trying it was for both of them, but as far as I can tell, Josephine didn’t allow herself to cry until Zoe couldn’t see it .
As if I needed further evidence she’s the most incredible woman alive.
Dusk is settling by the time we arrive back at the chateau, and I allow Zoe a few more minutes of chasing fireflies in the meadow as I allow my mind to wander—yet again—to the nanny who seems to occupy the vast majority of my thoughts these days.
I should let this go. I should .
Having sex with her the first time was bad, this afternoon was worse, but to consider an arrangement with my boss’s twenty-two-year-old daughter, a woman who also happens to be in my employ, now? It’s beyond messy, an unquestionably terrible idea, but I can’t quite convince myself to say no.
For one thing… God, I want her so badly. Despite what I promised myself when she agreed to come to France, it’s obscene the amount of times I’ve given into the temptation to jerk myself off to thoughts of Josephine. That alone should be enough to throw up red flags, and it does, but they’re not big enough to stop me from charging past them.
Just like the first night we met, I’m overcome by the temptation to allow myself to enjoy something that isn’t right, but feels good. And of anyone in my life apart from my daughter, nobody makes me feel better than her beautiful, kind hearted nanny. In a matter of weeks, she has become the calm, warm center of my otherwise stressful existence. For the life of me, I have no idea how I managed so long without her, and I’m dreading the day we get back on a plane to Connecticut.
In another life, I’d have fallen in love with her. It would be easy to, even now. It’s all the more evidence for me being out of my mind, because what kind of man looks at a woman like Josephine and sees her as a one-night-stand?
If I’d known what fate had in store for us, I hope that I’d have stopped myself, but in my heart I know it wasn’t true. I was so sure that those few desperate moments with Josephine Sutton would be all I ever had. Now, she’s offering me more of herself? More pieces? More stolen moments from a different version of my life?
Even if it’s the most foolish, irresponsible thing I’ve ever done, how could I possibly say no? I’m thirty-six years old, and I’ve never experienced this kind of attraction before. Every single thing the woman does makes my blood boil. How am I supposed to work or think or breathe when she’s around me?
As I’ve gotten to know her, I’ve found myself wishing that I could offer her more. Nothing has changed, though. I’m still in the situation I was in when we were in Connecticut. Her mother is still my boss, and if she returns to Weston, our relationship would be prohibited. Then there’s the humiliating, gut wrenching truth that I couldn’t keep my wife happy or my family together, so what chance could I have with a beautiful, much younger woman?
It will be hard enough to say goodbye to her when our time in France is over. What if I dated her and it didn’t work out? What if she left me too? I would never forgive myself if I put Zoe in the position to lose another mother figure. The risks of pursuing a relationship with her are too high to consider.
Josephine’s bedroom door is closed, but a light is shining beneath it as I lead Zoe upstairs to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. She’s already rubbing her eyes, and sure enough, we only make it halfway through her favorite princess book before her breathing grows deep and slow.
My heart is pounding as I cross to my room and close the door quietly behind me, staring at the wall which separates my bedroom from Josephine’s. She’s over there now. Is she wondering if I’ll come through the balcony and tell her I want her? Is she regretting making the offer at all when our emotions were high?
I don’t sit down or get undressed. I stand there, my back pressed to the door, willing myself not to do what I know I’m going to.
A better man would tell her no, or—better, yet—pretend the whole thing didn’t happen. I can’t, though. Not while I’m trapped in this house with the woman of my dreams who I can no longer deny wants me. There’s nowhere to hide. Not anymore.
Even if I say no now, stand on my morals and muster up enough willpower to keep myself from walking outside and into her room. What happened today… it will happen again. It’s only a matter of time before my willpower breaks, or hers does, and things get much more complicated. I can’t stand the idea of hurting her again. This way, at least, there will be no misunderstandings.
I don’t know how long I stand there, thinking in circles, or what finally prompts me to move. Once I do, though, I don’t falter. I keep going straight out onto the balcony, where the last traces of sunset have gone, and the night sky is scattered in an impossible number of stars.
Lamplight is coming from within Josephine’s room, shining like a beacon through the door that she left ajar and my heart pounds as I draw forward, pushing it open.
I find her laying on the bed, her head propped on her hand and a book on the quilt before her. She looks up when I step inside. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the implications of my presence hanging in the air between us.
She’s done away with the clothes she was wearing earlier, and in their place is a tank top and small, cotton shorts that leave most of her legs bare. My cock throbs.
“Hey.” Her honeyed voice is cautious as she sits up, curling her legs beneath her. “Did Zoe go down okay?”
I nod. “Yes. Tired.”
She smiles weakly. “Long day.”
“Yes. ”
Silence falls between us again, and, desperate for something to do other than lunge at her, I peer around. Her room is more or less the same as mine, decorated in pale florals and furnished in antique wood. The bed she’s sitting on is the most notable feature of the space, with its four ornately carved posts and the canopy which frames her in gauzy, white wisps of material.
Will I fuck her in that bed? I want to.
Tearing my eyes away from the beautiful woman before me, I look around, my gaze falling on an upholstered chair sitting on the wall across from her. Grateful for the extra distance, I cross to it and sit, wracking my brain for what the hell I’m supposed to say here.
Even as a young man, I was a serial monogamist. I didn’t have lovers, I had girlfriends, and now I’m sorry for it. She’s younger than me— much younger—yet here, I’m the one out of my depth. Both at the prospect of unattached sex, and at the sudden urge to punch a hole in the wall at the thought of Josephine having other men in her bed.
“Can I ask what you had in mind?” I question, unable to stand the silence a moment longer, and gesture helplessly between us. “For this, I mean. If you’re not regretting it now.”
“I’m not regretting it,” she assures me, nibbling on her bottom lip, looking far more hesitant and abashed than she did earlier when she made the proposition. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s nervous here. “And, um, besides the obvious?”
The tension in my shoulders lessens incrementally. Reaching up, I rub the back of my neck, a little embarrassed myself. “Yes.” I let out a short, strained laugh. “Besides the obvious.”
God, help me.
“Well,” she begins, a little hesitant, “I thought we should probably discuss the rules.” I nod in agreement, and she thankfully saves me from making the first suggestion. “Like, we don’t tell anyone.”
“Agreed,” I reply easily. This is so surreal. Are we truly having this conversation? I realize she’s waiting for me to suggest something, and it’s a struggle to turn my mind toward a single thing other than getting between her thighs. “ Ah, no sleeping over? Zoe often wakes up early and comes looking for me.”
“That makes sense.” Her eyes search my face. “Um. We probably shouldn’t do anything during the day when she’s awake, then. She’s sneaky.”
I chuckle, acknowledging the truth in that. “That she is. So, set hours then, and nothing beyond them?”
“Eight to twelve?”
“That sounds… fine.” Incredible also comes to mind.
“Um.” She looks down. “I’m not jealous or anything. I just don’t want to be… one of the many.” I blink, shocked to silence as she continues in a rush. “You’re single, and, you, um, look like that… I’d extend you the same courtesy.”
One of the many?
Look like that?
My answering laugh is choked with disbelief. “You don’t need to worry about that. There won’t be anyone else.”
As if anyone could compare to her.
As if I was capable of looking at anyone but her.
As if it was possible for a single other woman on the planet to consume me the way Josephine Sutton has.
“You can’t know that,” she argues weakly, hands twisting in her lap.
Maybe it should bother me that she’s concerned about my other partners when this is supposed to be a casual arrangement, but I’m sure as hell worried about hers. The idea of another man laying a hand on her in the past is difficult, but now ? I’d end up behind bars .
“I do ,” I insist, using the same authoritative tone I often employ during staff meetings at Montgomery. “I separated from my wife three years ago, and at that time, there’s only been you. By now, you’ve seen first-hand that I have my hands full. Sex wasn’t a priority.”
Until I find myself before my twenty-two-year-old nanny perched on her bed in tiny cotton pajamas, laying down conditions for me to have sex with her. Forget a priority . Now I’d likely agree to chop off a finger or two for the honor.
Josephine seems to accept that and I can tell she’s waiting, prepared to make a concession. There’s only one I know that needs to be said, but knowing it doesn’t make it any easier to say it.
I swallow with difficulty, my eyes following the warm glow of the lamplight over her slim shoulders. “This ends when we go home.” My voice is dark. Flat. Dead. “I can’t risk my professional reputation and possibly my employment. Zoe depends on me. I need to be responsible.”
Or as close to responsible as I can be where Josephine Sutton is concerned. While she technically isn’t a Weston University student at the moment, somehow I doubt her mother will care for the nuances of the situation if she ever discovers how we intend to spend the next five months.
Josephine nods in understanding, her expression unreadable. “Okay. That… that makes sense.”
It does make sense, but that does nothing to help the hollow ache expanding inside me as we discuss it. “It’s not a commentary of how highly I think of you, or even?—”
She cuts me off with a pained grimace and shake of her head. “I get it, Ellis. Really. I don’t expect anything from you beyond this.”
There’s no way to pretend that comment doesn’t bother me, but there’s nothing to be done about it. This is the situation we’re in, and even unattached sex is more than I thought I’d have of her. I can’t be greedy here, not when there’s more than my job at stake.
It’s vital I keep myself in check for Zoe’s sake, but I know that if it were for anyone but my daughter, I wouldn’t be able to.
I’m so lost in my preoccupation that my heart leaps when I notice Josephine getting to her feet. We’re only a few meters apart, and even in well-worn pajamas, she’s almost too perfect to be real. Her full lips curve. “So that’s it then.”
That quiet voice cuts through my swirling thoughts like a knife, centering me in the present. For fuck’s sake. I’ve been good and responsible all my life. I’ve followed every damn rule, and where did it get me? Divorced, raising my daughter alone, and struggling just to keep my job and pay the mortgage on an overpriced house I didn’t want.
Pourquoi pas putain? ? *
“That’s it,” I finally agree, not bothering to conceal the way my gaze roams over her body. Christ, it feels good to look at her freely after restraining myself for so long.
My blood has turned heated, and a tension has coiled in my every muscle as the implications of what we just agreed to begins to set in. I get to put my hands on her. I get to feel the hot, tight grip of her cunt and hear her sweet moans in my ear.
Now, I know what she wants, and I’ll be damned if she has to ask for it.
Blowing out a heavy breath, I finally drag my eyes away from her body to meet her heated gaze. My cock hardens. “Will you let me see you?”
It’s all I’ve been able to think about for weeks now, hating myself for not finding a way to get her naked in the one chance I had. If I was going to spend the rest of my life pining, then I at least wanted to know what her tits looked like.
Who knows what the future holds, and I’m not taking any chances.
Josephine’s teeth find her lip again, and she raises her hands to trail the tips of her fingers over the straps of her tank top. “I’m not wearing anything under this.”
“ Good .” The word bursts out of me, brusque and impatient. The air in the room has become stifling.
I watch, rapt, as Josephine fiddles with the hem of her shirt and—so slowly it’s agonizing—lifts it over her head.
The noise I make when my eyes lock on her plump, rose tipped breasts can only be described as a snarl. “The shorts too. Now.”
It’s been driving me mad, the urgency I had when we were together. Why didn’t I slow down? There were a million things I wanted to do and try, and all of them required more time, space and privacy than the back seat of my car allowed.
Now, we have hours and hours stretching before us, weeks, months, and for that time, she’s mine. I should be stopping to savor her, but as she pushes her shorts and panties over her hips and they fall to the ground with a quiet rustle, I’m not entirely in control of my actions.
She’s completely naked now, and the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.
“Get on the bed, Josephine,” I tell her, my voice deathly calm and controlled. “On all fours. Spread your legs wide. I need to see you.”
I’m being bossy, but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, at my words, I’m sure I can hear her breath hitch. My hands curl over the arms of the chair, anchoring myself in place as she turns, providing me a beautiful view of the ass that’s been the star of fantasies so filthy I didn’t think myself capable of them.
Not for the first time, the book I caught her reading last week comes to mind. Would she like to call me that?
As she crawls onto the bed, I groan as I get my first look at her bare cunt, already glistening with arousal. My cock throbs, growing impossibly harder as I stare.
“Ellis,” she whispers, her voice high with need. “I need you to fuck me.”
I’m barely aware of getting to my feet until I’m standing behind her. We both jerk with surprise as my hands move to her hips. “I have one more rule,” I tell her, my voice like gravel as I palm her ass, pulling her wide so I can see every inch.
I’ve never been this hard.
She squirms under my touch. “What—what is it?”
Releasing one cheek, my hand comes down on her ass in a sharp slap, making her gasp. “You get my cock when I say, sweetheart, and not a moment before. Between the hours of eight and midnight, I own this beautiful body, and I’ll use it as I see fit.”
Another spank, and I can see how wet she is from me talking to her like this. “Ellis…” she moans, and I’m positive I’ve never loved the sound of my name before this moment.
Ellis.
“Yes, that’s right, mon amour. ” My lip curls as I spank her again, harder than before. Her yelp of surprise turns to a wanton moan as the same hand which delivered her punishment moves between her thighs to cup her sex. “I’m the one making you so wet you’re dripping down your thighs. Now, do you agree?”
“Agree?” she echoes, her voice strained as she squirms against the pressure of my hand, her fists curling on the sheets.
This time, the spank comes down on her cunt and even as her cry shatters the quiet of the dark room, fresh arousal glistens on her slit, confirming every theory I’ve had about her needs. My sweet little nanny likes it rough and dirty, and I’m fighting second to second to keep myself from ripping my belt open and fucking her as hard as I can .
“My last rule, Josephine,” I grit out, dragging two fingers through the creamy mess she’s making for me.
She bucks into my touch, and now her breaths are coming in desperate little pants. “Yes, anything?—”
I press my fingers inside her tight opening, fucking her too lightly to give her any satisfaction, while relishing the tightness and heat of her, and the promise of what she will feel like wrapped around my cock.
“This is mine,” I murmur, scissoring my fingers, stretching her to illustrate the point. “And this.” They move to her clit, circling the swollen bud teasingly.
“Ellis.” She hiccups, her thighs trembling as my hand moves back, circling the tight, puckered hole between her cheeks that I know instinctively has never been touched like this before.
Leaning forward, I kiss the base of her spine, holding her steady as I dip just the tip of my finger into her ass. “I’m going to fuck you here, too. Don’t worry, mon amour . It’s in my best interest to ensure you enjoy the experience.”
Jesus. The things I’m saying out loud have only ever existed in the darkest corners of my imagination. Sex was never like this for me. Not with my ex-wife, or any of my partners before her. There’s no experimentation here, or questioning whether Josephine likes what I’m doing to her. I’ve spent weeks of my life thinking about what she needs, and exactly how I’d give it to her.
I’ve never felt as sure of myself as I do now.
My free hand comes down to free my cock, and it’s only when I’ve fisted my base, preparing to press inside her, that the alarm bells sound.
“Protection,” I mutter, looking around helplessly, as though a condom will appear within reach.
Josephine gasps, turning to look at me, her gaze pleading. “Oh no. Please tell me you have something in your room! ”
I don’t. I fucking don’t . Somehow, it didn’t occur to me to pack condoms in the hurried rush to prepare for this trip, which I would be taking with my six-year-old daughter and a woman I thought would hate me until the end of time.
Cursing under my breath, I shake my head. “I’ll go to the pharmacy in town tomorrow.”
The lust hasn’t drained away, though. Frantic need is burning through me, demanding I fuck her anyway. I must not have lost all control of myself, however, because I hold back. There are other options, after all.
I drop to my knees.
* ? Why the fuck not?