15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Cole
Annie’s soft voice carries down the hall, pulling me to a stop outside Robbie’s bedroom. The door is cracked open, just enough for me to hear her reading a bedtime story and the faint giggles of my son. I don’t step inside. Instead, I lean against the wall, keeping out of sight. I don’t want to interrupt.
Her voice rises and falls with the story, changing tone as she switches between characters. It’s almost theatrical, the way she brings the book to life. I catch snippets of dialogue—something about a mischievous raccoon and a bear who just wants to nap. Robbie’s laughter bubbles up, clear and unrestrained, and for a moment, I just stand there, taking it all in.
The sound of his laughter is rare. Too rare.
I close my eyes briefly, letting the warmth of it settle into me. Annie’s right—those little moments matter. Earlier, listening to Robbie talk about grocery store aisles and cereal boxes, I’d felt the shift. The stories weren’t remarkable, but to him, they were everything. Just because I’d been there, listening, he’d lit up like the sun .
And now, hearing him laugh with her, it’s hitting me all over again. How much I’ve missed. How much I’ve let slip through my fingers because of work, deadlines, and whatever other excuse I used to tell myself was all for the greater good.
Annie’s voice shifts into a deep, gravelly tone for the bear, and Robbie squeals with delight. “No way! The raccoon really tricked him?” he asks, his words tumbling over each other.
“Shh,” she says, feigning a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t spoil the ending!”
He giggles again, and I can’t help the faint smile tugging at my lips. She’s good with him. Better than I ever imagined she would be.
Certainly better than I’ve been.
My chest tightens, a familiar knot of guilt and regret twisting deep inside me. I try to push it aside, focus on the present instead of everything I’ve done wrong in the past. But it lingers, settling heavy in my bones.
Her voice softens as she continues, and I can picture the scene in my head. Robbie curled up with Rexy tucked under one arm, his wide eyes fixed on her as she brings the story to life. Annie, sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, her expressive face glowing as she reads the words.
The image sends a wave of something unexpected crashing over me. Not just gratitude, though that’s there too. Something deeper. Something dangerous .
I shake my head, forcing myself to stay rooted in reality. It’s not like that. It can’t be like that.
But as I stand there, listening to her laugh with my son, I feel the faint stirrings of something I’ve tried to keep buried.
Something I let out once before in my office late at night.
No. Stop.
I straighten, crossing my arms over my chest, as if that will somehow shield me from my own thoughts. This isn’t the time, and Annie isn’t the person. She’s Robbie’s nanny. My employee. I don’t have the right to think about her like this. Not after the way I treated her earlier.
No. Stop.
And yet…
I can’t shake the memory of her standing in my office, fire blazing in her eyes as she faced me down. No one has ever done that before—not like she did. She didn’t cower, didn’t back down. She fought for Robbie, for what she believed was right, even though it meant putting herself in the crosshairs.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. She was stunning.
That thought hits me like a slap, and I tense. Stunning? What the hell is wrong with me?
But I can’t deny it. There was something electrifying about the way she stood toe-to-toe with me, matching my anger with her own, refusing to be intimidated. It was infuriating, maddening—and God help me, it was intoxicating.
A dark, unwelcome thought creeps into my mind, unbidden but insistent. The image of her standing there, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions, her voice sharp and defiant as she hurled her accusations at me. The way I wanted to grab her, pull her closer, and—
No. Stop. Don’t go there.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to bury the thought, but it clings stubbornly, like a shadow I can’t escape. The idea of her beneath me, her fiery defiance melting into something else entirely…
Damn it.
I shift uncomfortably, heat pooling low in my stomach as the image sharpens in my mind. This is wrong. It’s all wrong.
I force myself to focus on the sound of her voice, still carrying softly from the room. She’s wrapping up the story now, her tone soothing as she reads the last few lines. I take a step back, retreating into the shadows of the hallway. I don’t want her to see me. Don’t want her to know I was here.
Before she can finish, I turn and make my way toward my bedroom, my steps quick.
Once inside, I close the door behind me and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The room is dim, the heavy curtains drawn, and the faint scent of cedar lingers in the air.
I pace to the bed, my thoughts racing, my body still tense with the aftermath of whatever the hell that was back there, but it only makes me think about her more.
What it would be like to have her in it, spread out for me like a feast, helpless and begging while I punish her with pleasure for her defiance,
My hands clench at my sides as I try to wrestle my thoughts back under control.
This is ridiculous. I’m not some teenager with a crush. I’m a grown man—a father, for Christ’s sake. Annie is off-limits. End of story.
And yet, the memory of her standing in my office, her voice shaking with anger and conviction, refuses to leave me.
Cursing under my breath, I head for the bathroom, stripping off my shirt as I go. I turn the shower on and crank the handle all the way to cold. The icy spray hits me like a slap, and I suck in a sharp breath, my muscles tightening against the chill.
It doesn’t help. Not entirely. But at least it drowns out the heat simmering under my skin, if only for a moment.
I close my eyes and let the water wash over me, the cold needles beating a tattoo against my flesh. I force myself to count slowly, inhaling through my nose, exhaling through my mouth, and try not to think about the way Annie looked in my lap, shocked pleasure on her face while she rode my fingers .
Or the way she would look splayed across my bed, her hands bound to the headboard while I take her roughly from behind, her breathless moans urging me on.
Or the way she would sound when she screamed my name, her body clenching around me in release.
I'm rock hard now, standing at the ready, and I grit my teeth. Damn it.
I brace my hand against the tile wall, the water pummeling me from behind, and force myself to count again.
One, two, three. Inhale.
One, two, three. Exhale.
Over and over, waiting for the numbers to drown out everything else. But they don't. Not the way they usually do.
The tension inside me builds, and I let out a groan, reaching down to take myself in hand. Maybe if I just give in to this, just for a moment, it will leave me the hell alone.
I turn the shower back to warm, then warmer still.
I stroke myself roughly, the motion harsher than I normally prefer, but I'm not in the mood for tenderness. Or anything resembling tenderness.
I want to fuck her until she's writhing with pleasure and begging me for more.
The thought shoots through me like a lightning bolt, and I pick up my pace, squeezing harder. It feels good, but it's not enough. Not what I really want.
Annie, on her knees before me, her dark eyes wide as she takes my cock in her mouth.
Fuck.
I lean into the warmth, letting the water slide over my skin, where it helps to harden my cock even further and my need roars inside me.
Annie, naked and trembling, her body slick with sweat, her hair tangled around her face as she looks up at me with desire burning in her eyes.
My grip tightens, the friction growing almost painful, but I can't stop. Not yet.
Annie, her face flushed, her breathing ragged as she climaxes around me, her hands gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles turn white.
I grit my teeth, the pressure building inside me. I'm close. So fucking close.
But it's not enough. I'm not nearly close enough.
Damn it.
I give up the fight and lean into the fantasy, letting it take over. Letting myself imagine what it would be like to sink into her, feeling her body tense around me as she cries out in ecstasy .
It's a mistake. A dangerous mistake. But I can't bring myself to care. Not when the image is so damn enticing.
I picture the way she would look, her eyes fluttering closed, her lips parted as she pants my name. I imagine the way she would feel, hot and tight and perfect around me. I picture the way she would sound, her voice high and needy as she begs for more.
It's enough. It's more than enough.
With a low groan, I let go and come with a strangled moan, spraying onto the shower tile. My knees nearly buckle, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful, and for a moment, all I can do is hang on and ride it out.
The rush is powerful, but fleeting. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
When the world finally comes back into focus, I let out a ragged breath, my heart pounding.
I'm screwed.
There's no other word for it.
The woman who just made me come harder than I have in years is also the woman who is responsible for my son's happiness. The woman I trust to keep him safe.
I've crossed a line, and there's no going back.
I shut off the water and step out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around my waist. I can't think about this now .
As I cross back to my room, a familiar feeling hits me again, and I stop in disbelief.
What the hell?
How can I possibly be hard again already? It's barely been a few minutes.
The thought is absurd. Laughable. But my body is undeniably responding, my arousal is pretty damn obvious and undeniable beneath the thick terry cloth.
I groan and throw the towel aside, pacing the room and not caring that I'm not wearing a stitch of clothing. I try to will away the unwanted erection, but it doesn't work. If anything, the thought of Annie naked, her body glistening with sweat, makes it worse.
God, she's infuriating.
I stalk to the closet and rummage for a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, yanking them on with more force than necessary. It's late, and there's no one around to see me in the gym, and maybe, just maybe, I can burn off whatever the hell this is if I work out long enough.
I pad down to the door of my bedroom and open it, careful to keep quiet. I don't want to wake anyone up. I don't want to talk, or think, or feel anything right now.
I just want to run until I'm too tired to move.
I step out into the hallway and head for the stairs .
I realize my mistake far too late because the moment I'm within sight of Annie's door, that's it for me. No amount of willpower is allowing me to walk past it.
This is a mistake, this is a mistake. It's like a mantra in my head as I stop in front of the door and lift my fist.