Page 39 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

“I think I do.” It was her turn to rake him from head to toe. He had way too much clothing on, and she mentally willed him to take off his shirt, so they’d be on even footing. “I imagined you, too.”

“Fuck, Mallory.” His hands tore through his hair. “You can’t say things like that.”

She blinked up at him. “Why not?”

“Because now I can’t help but picture you lying in your bed upstairs, touching yourself while you thought of me.” He slid one hand up her thigh to the opening between her legs, rubbing her through the light cotton of her pajamas. “Did you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She ducked her head to hide the flush she could feel creeping up her cheeks.

“Don’t,” he said again. “Don’t be self-conscious.”

He tipped her chin up with a finger, forcing her to look at him as his other hand continued to tease her. “Do you know what I did after we kissed the other night?”

“No.” The word came out on a moan.

“I went to my room and took a long, cold shower. And when that didn’t work, I jacked off. I was hoping it would get you out of my system.”

“Did it work?”

“Fuck no.” He replaced his hand with his rock-hard erection, lifting her leg and hooking it around his back. “Does it feel like it worked?”

“Fuck no,” she echoed, making him chuckle.

His eyes darkened, and he ducked his head to murmur low and seductive in her ear. “Then how about we put ourselves out of our misery?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, laying her on the bed and following her down. Somewhere along the way, he managed to strip off his shirt and sweats, leaving him in only a pair of form-fitting boxer briefs.

Christ, he was beautiful. Even seeing him on the beach in those running shorts hadn’t prepared her for this. For him, all firm muscle and tight skin, up close and personal. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. Thigh to thigh.

“Need you naked.” His hands trailed down her sides, over her rib cage, to the waistband of her pajama pants,igniting a string of sparks.

Mallory lifted her hips for him to slide them off, and they went the way of her top. She reached out a tentative finger to touch the bulge under his boxers, then pulled it back. “Now you.”

He took her hand and brought it back to his groin. “Only if you return the favor.”

She inhaled deeply and held her breath, trying to stop her hands from shaking as she hooked her thumbs in the elastic of his boxers and began to slide them down. His skin was superheated, scorching the tips of her fingers, and she sucked in a gasp when he sprang free from his spandex prison, stiff and pulsing, smooth skin stretched tight over rigid flesh. She froze midthigh, her hands still clutching his waistband.

“Don’t stop now. Not when it’s just getting interesting.”

He sounded as hungry for her as she was for him. The thought that she’d brought him to this point—drowning in need, drunk with desire—thrilled her and made her bold. She inched his boxers down his legs to his ankles. “If you ask me, things got interesting when you went all caveman and carried me off to your bedroom.”

He kicked his boxers the rest of the way off and pulled her against him, aligning their bodies so she could feel every glorious ridge and valley of him. “If you found that interesting, you’re going to love what’s next.”

Flipping her onto her back, he covered her with his weight, his strong arms anchored above her. Her eyes flickered from his chiseled abs, to his powerful chest, to his broad shoulders, finally landing on his lips. Swollen and shining from their kisses, they curved into a smile that slayed her. When he looked at her like that, she was a goner.

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, returning his smile tenfold. “Or stare at me all night?”

His grin got even bigger, and she fell even further. “As much as I like looking at you, I’m going to have to go with option A.”

He skimmed his lips down her neck, leaving hot, openmouthed kisses behind her ear, on her jaw, and on the curve of her cleavage that had her panting and clawing at his back. She silently begged him to continue his journey to her nipple, but instead he retraced his path, wrapping a hand in her hair to anchor her head as he took her mouth, his lips moving forcefully, assuredly on hers. She opened to him, and he accepted the invitation, deepening the kiss as his free hand wandered over her body, skimming her breast, her waist, her hip. Arching her back, she rocked her wet center against his erection, showing him where she wanted him most. “Shit. Condom.” He rolled away from her and stood. “I think I’ve got a couple in here somewhere.”

He disappeared into the master bath, and she could hear him rummaging through the cabinets.

“You think? You mean you’re not sure?” She grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest, not bothering to try to hide her disappointment.

“Sex hasn’t exactly been a priority for me lately.”

The drawer slamming continued for a few minutes, and Mallory had just about lost hope when Rhys came striding out of the bathroom with all the confidence and swagger of a knight who’d slain a dragon. A very naked, very aroused knight holding two foil packets aloft in one hand. “Success.”