“What do you want to eat?” she asks innocently.
I get an image of myself kissing her inner thigh as she lies back over the kitchen counter, but I snap myself out of the daydream quickly. “I’m really not hungry.”
She begins to open and close doors. “Where is the truth serum?”
I point to the cupboard, and she smiles and leans over to get it. My eyes drop to her behind. That dress leaves nothing to the imagination.
Tanned muscular thighs.
This isn’t a good situation to be in…at all.
Go. To. Bed.
She grabs two thick tumbler glasses, fills them with ice, and then places them on the counter in front of us. She pours the scotch into the first and I put my hand over the top of the second glass. “Not for me,” I mutter.
She lifts the glass and sips it, licking her lips. “I think scotch nanny virgin may be my new favorite thing.
“It’s just called scotch. The nanny virgin thing is irrelevant.”
She grins. “Or is it?”
The air zaps between us, and she holds my gaze, as if daring me to say something.
Don’t get into this with her. Go upstairs and go to sleep.
I can’t help myself. I have to ask. “Why would a nanny virgin be anything but irrelevant?”
She sips her drink and licks her lips again. I feel my cock contract.
Fuck.
Go. To. Bed.
She leans forward, resting on her elbows on the other side of the counter, and my eyes drop to her large, perfect tits. “I like the fact that you haven’t let your other nannies drink scotch with you.” She smiles innocently.
I get a vision of drinking scotch from her navel.
Cut it out.
“I’m going to bed, Miss Brielle.” I stand.
“No. No. No.” She shakes her head and grabs my shoulders, pushing me back onto my stool. “We just need some music. I’ll make us some toast and then I’ll go to bed, I promise.” She looks through the cupboard. “Do you have any Vegemite?”
“I don’t want Vegemite on toast.”
“You’ll get what you’re given.” She smiles cheekily.
Our eyes lock, and I feel electricity zap through the air between us.
Okay, what the fuck? Is she trying to turn me on right now?
Because it’s working.
She’ll get what she’s fucking given in a minute.
She picks up her phone and flicks through to Spotify. She hits play and a dance tune rings out, giving her an excuse to dance. “You like this song?”
“I don’t know it.”