The Doctors' Live-In Babysitter

Chapter 1

ONE

Esmeralda

When I applied for a babysitting gig, I certainly didn't expect my clients to be two of the hottest men I've ever seen.

And definitely not two hot doctors.

I stand on the front step of their house, clutching the strap of my purse so tightly my fingers hurt, and try very hard to remember how to breathe.

The door has barely been open for five seconds.

Five seconds.

That's all it has taken for my carefully rehearsed confidence to disappear.

The man standing in front of me is tall.

Really tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair.

Strong jaw. Expensive-looking clothes that fit him so perfectly I immediately feel underdressed in my simple blouse and skirt.

My breasts are engorged with milk. I can feel my bra rubbing against my sensitive nipples.

Every time the fabric shifts against my breasts, I feel a shock between my legs.

I realized how sensitive my breasts were only when I started lactating due to galactorrhea. Now every touch and caress makes my pussy gush like a faucet. It's like my whole body has become a live wire that buzzes with electricity every time my breasts are stimulated.

The devastatingly handsome older man's eyes settle on me. They're steady and assessing in a way that makes me feel hot for all the wrong reasons. He's over six feet tall, muscular, and has a rugged, masculine face that oozes sex appeal.

And somehow that makes my stomach flutter.

"Esmeralda?" His voice is deep enough to make me forget my own name for half a second.

"Yes," I squeak.

Brilliant. That was very professional. I scold myself internally.

I need to do better than that if I hope to land this job.

It's the best-paying job I've ever seen, and given that I'm broke, homeless, and need the room and board that comes with this full-time babysitting gig, I can't afford to mess up.

My mother took what little I earned again. I used to have three part-time jobs, but she took my money to pay for her addiction. She's addicted to cocaine, and no matter how much I try to push her away, she always comes back like a leech.

She promised she'd pay it back. She always promises. And I'm always stupid enough to believe her.

Until I was left with nothing. I didn't even have enough to pay for rent or a deposit. Not enough to keep pretending I could build a life while constantly rescuing the person who was supposed to be my mother.

So I left. Or, more accurately, I was forced out of my rented apartment because I couldn't pay.

And now I'm sitting in a house like this, trying not to look desperate.

I need this job.

Desperately.

The man who has my pussy tingling gives me the faintest hint of a smile. "I'm Lane Walters. I'm an emergency surgeon."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Walters."

"You can call me Lane."

Before I can answer, another man appears behind him. And my brain promptly stops working again.

Oh, no. He's gorgeous too.

I saw his name on the ad for the job. Rhett King has lighter hair than Lane, an easy smile, and the kind of face that makes him look approachable even though the expensive watch on his wrist probably costs more than everything I own.

"Rhett." He holds out his hand. I take it. His fingers close gently around mine.

My skin buzzes with awareness his masculine heat and strength. His fingers are warm and firm, and when he squeezes, my pussy clenches, imagining those strong, steady hands squeezing the milk out of my full breasts.

It's not the first time I'm fantasizing about being sexually pleasured and milked. I've discovered I have a lactation kink, and even more taboo, I love the idea of multiple men drinking from me at the same time. There's something about being loved by two men that makes my heart full.

I become suddenly aware of myself. Of the way my skin must be pink with arousal.

Also, I don't look very fuckable right now. My hair is dry. My clothes are bargain-basement plain. I've been wearing the same inexpensive perfume for months because it's all I can afford.

"It's nice to meet you," Rhett says.

"Same."

My cheeks heat. I need to stop saying one-word answers.

Rhett's smile grows. "Come in. We'll show you around."

I step inside and immediately understand that this house is going to be a problem.

It's so massive and luxurious, I don't even feel worthy of being here.

The entryway opens into a huge, elegant living space with warm wood floors, cream-colored furniture, enormous windows, and enough natural light to make the entire place feel peaceful.

Everything looks expensive without trying to look expensive. It's the kind of house I've only ever seen in magazines.

For one ridiculous second, I imagine living here. Waking up here. Having a room here. Having a real bed. A kitchen full of food.

A place where nobody is going to knock on my door demanding money.

Then reality catches up with me. I'm here for a job. A job I desperately need.

"Would you like something to drink?" Rhett asks, moving gracefully. I swallow, noticing the way his pants mold to his thick, muscular thighs. God, he has a great physique. He must work out.

"Water is fine," I croak.

Lane gives him a look. "She can have something better than water."

I blink.

Rhett laughs softly. "Champagne?"

My eyes widen. "Champagne? On the job? I mean, I don't have the job yet..."

"Relax. It's nonalcoholic," he says. "We don't know whether you drink."

"Oh."

Of course. I feel stupid.

"That would be lovely."

Rhett disappears into the kitchen. I stand awkwardly near the sofa while Lane gestures for me to sit.

"It's okay, Esmeralda. Nobody is going to eat you.

" There's a teasing twinkle in his eyes, and all I can imagine is his firm, gorgeous lips molding over my aching breasts.

How good would it feel to experience the strong suction of his mouth drawing milk from my breasts?

My core heats at the idea, and I press my thighs together, aware I'm wet, and arousal is leaking out of my pussy.

Lane notices my discomfort. A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn't press me. I feel like I'm burning up from the inside. Just being close to him while my breasts ache and my pussy clenches is an out of the world experience.

A minute later, Rhett returns carrying two glasses on a small tray. And there's a plate of chocolates. Not the cheap kind from the supermarket checkout aisle. These are arranged in a beautiful little box beside the glasses.

I stare at them. "For me?"

Rhett looks genuinely surprised by the question. "Of course. Who else would they be for? You look like you have a sweet tooth? Was I right?"

Nobody brings me things like this. Nobody thinks about whether I'm comfortable. Nobody puts chocolates beside my drink because they thought I might enjoy them.

The gesture is ridiculously small. And somehow it nearly breaks my heart.

"Thank you. I do like chocolates."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." My pulse spikes at the endearment. I've been here less than a few minutes, and these men are already turning me inside out with the sex appeal and kindness.

I take the glass carefully and bring it to my lips.

The drink tastes sweet and delicate, and I immediately feel like some kind of princess sitting in their beautiful house with expensive chocolates beside me, which is absurd.

Because two days ago, I was sitting on a mattress on the floor of the room I'd been renting, trying to calculate whether I had enough money to buy groceries.

Lane sits opposite me. Rhett takes the chair beside him.

Together, they look like they belong here. Like this house belongs to them. Like they've built a life together.

It's strangely intimate.

I clear my throat. "So, the advertisement said you were looking for someone full-time?"

"That's right," Lane says.

"Live-in?"

"Yes."

"And the children are ten months old?"

"The twins are," Rhett says.

Twins. My heart gives a little jump. I've always loved babies. Maybe too much. When I was younger, I'd babysit neighborhood children whenever I could. I loved the tiny fingers, the sleepy smiles, the way babies seemed to trust you completely when you held them.

I've always dreamed about having children of my own. A lot of them. A ridiculous number, probably.

I've never told anyone that. People look at you strangely when you're twenty-five and say you want a big family. Especially when you don't even have your own life together.

Lane studies me. "You've babysat before?"

"Yes. Part-time when I was in high school. Then occasionally during college."

"What ages?"

"Mostly infants and toddlers."

Rhett leans back. "How comfortable are you with overnight care?"

"Very."

"Feeding?"

"Very."

"Diaper changes?"

I smile. "I can do it. I'm confident."

His mouth curves. "Good."

My cheeks warm again. Why does everything this man says sound slightly flirtatious even when he's clearly talking about diapers?

I glance at Lane. He's watching me with those dark, mysterious eyes that seem to see through me. I shift and realize that my panties are wet and sticky now. The wet fabric molds to my heated pussy lips, making me even more self-conscious.

"Why did you apply for this position?" Lane asks.

There it is.

I set my glass down. "I need the stability. I want to be honest about my situation. My mother and I were living together, but things became complicated. She has... problems."

I hate how carefully I have to choose the words.

"She took money I'd earned from my jobs. Eventually I couldn't afford the rent. So I need a job that offers a place to stay."

Rhett's expression changes.

Lane's jaw tightens. I notice immediately.

"I know it doesn't sound ideal," I rush to say. "But I'm reliable. I work hard. I won't cause problems. I just need somewhere stable to live while I get back on my feet."

Lane's voice is quieter when he answers. "You shouldn't have had to deal with that."

I look at him. Something about the certainty in his tone catches me off guard.

There's anger lacing his voice. Like he's angry that someone treated me badly.

"It's okay," I say automatically.

His eyebrows draw together. "No. It isn't. A parent shouldn't take advantage of their children like that. It's wrong."

My heart gives a strange little squeeze. Nobody has ever said that to me.

Rhett reaches for his glass. "Do you have somewhere to stay right now?"

"Not permanently."

"Anyone who might come looking for you?"

"My mother. But she doesn't know I have this job or I live here, so she won't be able to find me."

Lane's expression hardens. "If you work here, we'll make sure your mother can never come near you. We have the best security here. She won't be able to take your money."

I stare at him. For a second, I can't speak. Something inside me loosens. Because I believe him. And that scares me almost as much as it comforts me.

Rhett gives me a reassuring smile. "Your paycheck will go directly to an account you control. We won't interfere with it."

"Thank you."

Lane nods.

Then he stands. "There's one more thing you should know."

I follow him as he walks toward the hallway.

"The children aren't biologically ours." He glances back, scanning for my reaction. "Rhett and I adopted them."

He opens a door. The muscles on his forehead tense, like he's remembering something unpleasant. "We found out what was happening to them before the adoption was finalized."

His voice changes. Becomes colder. "They were being abused."

My heart sinks. "Oh, God."

Rhett's expression is gentle, but there's pain underneath it. "They were only a few months old."

I look between them. "You took them?"

"We couldn't leave them there," Lane says simply.

Something warm spreads through my chest.

These men. These impossibly handsome, intimidating men. They saw two babies being hurt and decided those children needed them. Because they wanted to give them a better life.

I suddenly understand why the house feels the way it does.

It isn't just beautiful. It's safe. For the children who were abused and for me, who was taken advantage of.

Lane opens another door. "This is the nursery."

I step inside, and my heart melts. Two cribs sit side by side beneath a wall decorated with soft clouds and stars. There are stuffed animals, tiny clothes, books, a rocking chair, shelves filled with toys.

And photographs.

So many photographs. Lane holding one baby. Rhett holding the other. Both men laughing. Both of them exhausted. Both of them looking happier than I've ever seen anyone look.

They're fathers, not just doctors with a nice house.

The realization does something strange to me.

Because I've always wanted a man who would love his children fiercely. A man who would protect his family. A man who would come home and actually want to be there.

And now I'm standing between two of them.

I shake my head slightly.

Don't. Don't start fantasizing. You're here for a job. But I can't fight the images in my mind of two men loving me. I've always craved polyamorous relationships, and the idea of being with multiple men, both romantically and sexually, makes me feel like I'm floating.

The sound of crying interrupts my thoughts.

I realize that one of the babies is fussing. Then the other joins in.

"Oh." I instinctively move toward the cribs. I take the babies in my arms and check their diapers. They're clean.

"It seems they're hungry," I surmise after rocking one for a few seconds.

Lane and Rhett both look at me.

"I can—" I point to my breasts. "I can feed them. I mentioned on my application that I was lactating. You said the pay will be higher if I can feed them, too. May I?"

Lane nods. "Of course."

I lift the first baby into my arms. She's tiny. Warm. Her little face scrunches up as she cries.

"Shh..." I gently rock her. "It's okay, sweetheart."

Almost immediately, her cries begin to soften. Rhett's expression changes. The second baby starts fussing harder.

I reach for him too, settling him against my other side. "There you go."

Two babies. Two little bodies pressed against me. And suddenly the entire world feels right.

I don't notice Lane and Rhett watching me until I look up.

They're both silent. Their expressions are impossible to read.

My heart starts pounding. There is something I've been afraid to say since I walked through their front door. Something that could make or break this interview.

I swallow. "I should probably tell you something."

Lane's attention sharpens. Rhett waits.

I look down at the two hungry babies in my arms. Then back at the two men. "I'm lactating."

My cheeks burn, but I force myself to keep going. "I know it's unusual. It started after I took some medication, and it didn't stop when I stopped taking it. I've been checked out, and I can produce enough milk to feed babies."

Neither man says anything for a moment. They're doctors. I know they understand exactly what I'm saying.

Finally, Rhett asks quietly, "Are you comfortable nursing them?"

I look down at the babies.

Then at him. "Yes."

Lane's gaze stays on mine. "Would you like to?"

I take a breath. "Yes. Very much."