Chapter 3
THREE
DELANEY
After calling my old nannying boss—who I haven’t spoken to in years—and somehow requesting a last-minute criminal background check, Jared hires me for the weekend.
With a bunch of rules.
“She gets only one hour on the tablet,” he says while double-checking the contents of the fridge, which he already gave me instructions about earlier.
It’s clean—and organized—like he’s one of those restock accounts on social media.
“She can watch two shows, but only if they’re from one of the approved playlists.” He closes the fridge and points to a neatly printed sheet of paper stuck there with a WORLD’S BEST DAD magnet. “Emergency numbers. You should be able to reach me by phone, but just in case.”
“Copy that.” I fold my arms over my chest and rest a hip against the counter. “I assume no cigarettes before bed and only one cocktail after dinner.”
He gives me a sharp look. “And, one more thing. Please, don’t invite any of your other… friends over.”
My cheeks flush as the meaning—and the stern look—he gives me registers.
“I don’t have any other friends like that right now.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t look or sound convinced.
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t invite them over. I’m not some horny teenager who fools around with her boyfriend on the couch after the kids go to bed.”
“Good. Well.” He clears his throat. “See that you don’t.”
“I promise, I’ll be good. Daddy.”
His eye twitches at that. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“What do you think I’ve been calling you the past couple of weeks?”
He opens his mouth, but only a startled noise from the back of his throat comes out.
I grin. Good. I’m glad he’s the one who’s flustered now. Our relationship—up until tonight—has always been balanced.
A dull pang strikes my gut. We really had a good thing going. Mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of ever going back to that after this.
I’ll miss him. I’ll miss his strong fingers. I’ll miss his persuasive tongue. I’ll miss his dick.
I release a sigh. “If there isn’t anything else, you should probably get going. You don’t want to be late.”
“I can’t leave. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t leave with you looking like that.”
Both of our gazes drop to my body. Oh. I forgot I was still only wearing my lingerie and trench coat.
“Fair enough.” I raise my gaze to meet his. “I don’t suppose you could loan me some sweatpants or a shirt.”
His jaw clenches. “I suppose I could do that.”
“Thanks.” I bat my eyes. “I’d be most obliged.”
He gives me another look. I can’t decide if it’s searing or glaring. Either way, it makes my belly clench.
Turning on his heel, he stalks down the hallway. I follow at a brisk pace, still smirking at the back of his head.
Even if our old arrangement is over, at least I can have fun with this one while it lasts.
Plus, I’ll even make a few bucks. God knows I can use it now that I’m no longer working my side hustle.
Jared—it’s still weird to think about him having a real name—opens the door at the end of the hall. He strides across the room and motions to another door.
“That’s my closet. You can help yourself to anything in there.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” I saunter past him and slightly bump him with my behind as I brush past him to enter the walk-in. “I’ve always enjoyed getting in your pants.”
“Fucking hell,” he grumbles under his breath. His eyes clenched shut. “Are you really going to keep doing that?”
“What’s wrong?” I call over my shoulder as I find a pair of gray sweatpants neatly stacked on a shelf. I wish he would have worn these on one of our meet-ups. “I thought you liked it when I misbehave.”
“I thought you said you’d be a good girl.”
“I thought you said I was a good girl. You’ve called me that many times?—”
I cut myself off as I turn and find myself face to face with Jared. He’s towering over me. His whiskered jaw clenched. His hands in fists at his side.
“What are you doing?” The question comes out as a breath.
“Stop talking.”
He kicks the closet door shut. Then he pushes my back against it. The sweatpants and T-shirt slip from my hands to the floor. I grip his shoulders, my nails biting into him, as he grabs me by the hips, pushes my coat open, and lifts me up.
I instinctively wrap my thighs around him.
His thick, long cock presses against my core. My eyelids flutter shut as he grinds against me. Finding the exact spot where I crave him, need him, to touch me.
“This is insane.” He buries his head in the crook of my neck, angling his hips to create more friction between us. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Pinning me against the door, he frees up one hand to cup my breast through the lace.
A fresh jolt of desire lances through me. Meeting the pleasure building where our hips are moving together. Lace against denim.
“Don’t you dare stop.” I gasp as his thumb slides over my nipple. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
“I won’t.” I slide a hand up his shirt to scrape my nails over his back, and he growls. “I can’t.”
“Thank God.” I press my palm flat against his behind, urging him to go faster. Harder.
He pinches my nipple as he gives a sharp thrust against me. It sends me over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure flows through me. Sweeping me up and leaving me insensible to everything but him.
With a groan, he pushes against me once more. Burying his hardness against me as he shudders.
We stay there, wrapped around each other. Hips pressed almost as intimately as two bodies can be. Our breaths come in rasping gasps.
When he finally lets me down, I’m shaky on my feet. He grips my waist, holding me steady until I give him a nod.
It’s tempting to give him praise. To tell him how good that felt. That I didn’t know dry-humping could be so satisfying. To say I’m so freaking glad we haven’t ruined this part of our relationship.
But I don’t. In this case, it seems like the less said the better.
“We should get moving.” I take a shaky breath. “I think we both need a change of clothes now.”