Page 42 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

“Why?”

“For once, trust me and follow instructions.”

She did, and he gripped her hips, helping to position her over his mouth.

“You’re not going to—?”

“Oh yes, I am.” He proved his point by curling his hands around her ass and lifting his head to give her a quick, teasing swipe. “And so are you.”

He lowered her to him, and for the next ten minutes—okay, maybe it was more like twenty—they explored each other thoroughly, completely, with lips and teeth and tongues, bringing each other to the brink and back, again and again. It was all he could do to hold off until she tensed above him, calling out his name.

When she stopped trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm, he rolled her off him. “I’m almost there.”

She curled her fingers around his length, bringing him back to her mouth. “Then be quiet and let me finish.”

“Be quiet?” he teased.

“Never mind. Make as much noise as you want.”

He did, not holding anything back, letting her know with each gasp and moan how much he liked what she was doing to him until he let loose. He didn’t know what was more satisfying, his own release or the way she came apart on top of him. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, and reversed positions so they were face-to-face, gathering her sweat-dampened, deliciously naked body to his side. She sighed and twined a leg around one of his, sliding the arch of her foot up his calf. A flash of fluorescent orange caught his eye, and he smiled.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“After what we just did?” She snaked a hand up between them to caress his chest, her nails lightly scraping over his nipple and making him jerk. “How can I say no?”

Her foot slid higher, and he reached down to grab her ankle. “What’s with the nail polish?”

She glanced up at him with wide, confused eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m no expert, but it seems like you wear a different color every other day. Do all woman do that?”

“I don’t know about all women, just me. Pedicures are my guilty pleasure. Like PEZ is for you. I match the names to my mood.”

He stroked her instep with his thumb. “What’s this one called?”

She looked away, her wild, après-sex hair shielding her face. “I don’t remember.”

“Liar.” He rolled them over so he was on top of her and hooked a finger under her chin, tilting it up and forcing her to look at him again. “Come on. You can tell me.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I thought you said there was nothing I couldn’t ask.” He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek and kissed her.

“I didn’t say I’d answer.”

“I’ll torture you into submission.” His mouth moved lower, tracing a wet trail to the valley between her breasts.

She moaned. “I’m not sure this counts as torture. Isn’t it supposed to be cruel and inhuman?”

“It will be when I stop.”

“Okay, okay. I give in.” She clutched his head to her chest. “It’s called A Roll in the Hague.”

“Interesting.” He laughed against her skin. “So, either you’re looking to get laid or you’re planning a trip to the Netherlands.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to the tulip festival, but that’s in the spring.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to settle for this.”