5. Conrad #3
Tonight, though, a particularly stubborn part of my brain immediately supplied an image of Winnie standing in the kitchen with her hair pinned back and her sunglasses perched on her head. The whole mysterious Victorian-widow routine she’d somehow turned into an actual personality intrigued me.
I picked up my pace slightly, which didn’t help in the slightest.
I thought about the way she’d handled Billie when Billie had become convinced the garden hose was alive and trying to strangle her. The way she’d listened patiently and managed to redirect the conversation without making Billie feel foolish.
The kids adored her. I adored her. She was funny and smart. Kind and beautiful—extremely beautiful, if I was being honest.
I groaned softly. “Get a grip, Lawrence.”
She was the nanny.
The nanny.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her every five minutes. And I shouldn’t notice every time she walked into a room. She was here because my wife died, and I couldn’t get my shit together without hiring help.
I rounded another corner, pushing my legs to move faster so I could redirect my thoughts. I failed spectacularly.
There was also something else about her, an ease that was difficult to define. I found myself looking for her whenever I entered the house. Looking forward to conversations with her. Wanting to hear what she thought about things. Wanting to tell her things.
That was the scary part. I wasn’t certain the physical attraction would pass, but the rest of it… It was far more complicated.
I exhaled with a grunt. I was overthinking this. That was all. I was tired and lonely. Probably sexually frustrated. All of that tended to distort a man’s judgment.
I finished my final lap and headed home, wondering if Winnie was still awake. Shaking my head in annoyance, I pushed that thought out of my mind, but it returned immediately.
When I stepped inside the house again, I was hot, sweaty, and annoyed with myself. A shower sounded like an excellent idea.
Upstairs in my bathroom, I turned the water on, letting it warm while I stripped out of my sweat-soaked clothes.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stopped to admire the six-pack that had once been a bit of a dad belly.
Not bad. I flexed for good measure, then rolled my eyes at my reflection, thankful no one else could see me acting like an ass.
I stepped into the steamy hot water and braced myself against the shower wall, letting it wash the sweat from my head and face.
Images of Winnie popped into my head again.
I tried to focus on scrubbing my body clean, but all I could think about was her sweet scent, her captivating eyes, that confident smile, her laugh, her curvy body, and her breasts—breasts I wanted to hold, feel the weight of them in my hands.
Shit.
I made a mental note to never say that last part out loud.
Desire rushed through me as I imagined pulling her into the laundry room while the kids were playing inside, our hands roaming over each other. I wondered how warm she’d be, if she’d taste as sweet as she smelled. I wondered if her moans would be as captivating as her laugh.
Grabbing the soap, I lathered my body, trying my best to ignore the thoughts even as they swam around in my head, taunting me with possibilities.
This couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen.
I was a single father of three kids. She was their nanny.
The universe had rules about this kind of thing for a reason.
And yet… the water was like a sensual drumbeat against my skin, and the sexual tension was becoming more than a passing thought or an annoyance that came after too much scotch or not enough sleep.
It was real, raw, and increasingly hard to ignore.
Especially since every time I saw Winnie, it only seemed to get worse. Not better. Definitely not better.
I let my hand drift down my stomach, then gripped my cock and stroked it. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I was attracted to Winnie. Deeply, helplessly attracted to her. It wasn’t going away anytime soon.
My hand began to pump the length of my cock. I flattened my other hand against the wall to steady myself as I closed my eyes, imagining those big eyes of hers looking at me, that full mouth dropping open in surprise or amusement or desire.
God.
I pumped harder, imagining myself deep inside her, her warmth enveloping me, imagining how she might taste and sound and smell. I imagined her begging me for more, moaning in ecstasy as I pounded into her.
My orgasm hit suddenly, hard, and unexpectedly. My knees went weak, and my body trembled as warm cum rushed from my cock in thick streams. Groaning at the release of tension, I opened my eyes and sagged against the wall.
Goddamn it.
I dried off, got dressed, and did my best to ignore the fact that I’d just fantasized about my nanny. I told myself I just needed sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day. And with any luck, I’d spend significantly less time thinking about the nanny.
Unfortunately, I already knew that was wishful thinking.