I shook my head, ignoring the pulse fluttering in her neck and the swell of her breasts. “Just stating the facts. Now, you still have to show me what you came up with that is apparently so much better than a sweet-ass baby cave with a big-screen TV and a Dylan poster.”

“Oh, you’re on!”

She clicked on her phone, then handed it to me. It looked like a real little girl’s room—pictures of boxy white bookcases filled with brightly colored books, stuffed animals, and toys abounded. There were soft, fluffy blankets, and in one picture, just above the crib, hung a hand-painted plaque with the quote, “She be small but mighty.”

Everything was in shades of dove gray and pink with touches of yellow. These were only pictures, but I already felt like it was special somehow. Like it had all been put together just for Dylan.

“This is great,” I said sincerely. “I’m impressed.”

Addison shrugged, and her fingers brushed over mine as she reclaimed her phone. “One of my favorite hobbies. It’s nothing.”

“I beg to differ.”

She rolled her eyes again.

“Are you always so hard on yourself?” I asked.

Her blush deepened, and she swirled her wine thoughtfully. “Maybe. It’s just . . . you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I said, and something in my tone made her straighten. She let out a deep breath, her brow furrowing again.

“Fine. It’s just like, have you ever felt like a complete disaster area?”

I nodded. “When I first started my construction business, I knew I was going to torch everything important to me. I’d left the Army and the promise of a promotion to do something I had no experience in. It’s just one of those things you have to let play out. I love working with my hands, and if I hadn’t given it a try—”

She shook her head furiously. “No, it’s like ever since everything happened with Greg, I feel like I’m a failure, you know? I’m a disappointment.” Her face turned the brightest shade of red yet as she mumbled, “In the guy department. Ugh, this might be the wine talking, but I feel like he shattered my confidence. Like no man will ever truly want me.”

“If we’d met under different circumstances, I would show you how very wrong you are.” The words came out before I could stop them and in a voice that had dropped to a low growl.

Addison stared at me, her mouth half-open, her eyes unblinking.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Sure, I was attracted to her, more than attracted. If she were anyone else, I would have been unbuttoning her pajama top an hour ago. Hell, I might have fucked her right on the kitchen table if she was down.

But she wasn’t anyone else. She was Dylan’s nanny. And a great one at that.

I could be attracted to her, but I had to keep my dick in my pants—especially now that I was rock hard, thinking about her spreading her legs open for me on the kitchen table.

I cleared my throat and slapped my hands on my knees. Time to retreat before I fucked this up even harder.

“Anyway, I better get to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“Um, yeah, g’night,” she murmured, her words barely above a whisper.

I left my wineglass on the table and stood, careful to hide my erection as I marched up the stairs and disappeared into my bathroom.

“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath.

Total clusterfuck. She could be down there right now wondering if she should pack her bags and bolt.

Then I thought back to her expression at the end there. The way her pupils had dilated, the way her delicate nostrils had flared, just slightly. Had her nipples gone hard beneath that pajama top?

I groaned again and slid my hand down the front of my straining zipper. No way I was going to get any rest tonight until I tamed this fucking beast. I took my cock in hand, thinking of how soft and supple Addison’s skin would be against my chest. The lavender smell of her hair. The heat in her eyes when I’d all but told her how much I wanted her.

I gripped myself harder, imagining that it was her full lips wrapped around my cock instead, working me up and down while her tongue lapped at the head, teasing me before she dipped lower and took all of me into her mouth.

Damn, how I’d like to weave my fingers through her hair and feel her tits brush against my thighs while she was on her knees in front of me, sucking every last inch and still moaning for more.

She didn’t feel sexy or desirable? By the time I was finished with her, she would feel like a fucking goddess. The way she walked, the way she moved her hips, I knew that she would be heaven between the sheets.

Or on top of a table.

Or against the wall.

Or in the fucking street, for all I cared.

I imagined myself sinking between her thighs and pushing deep, feeling her hips grind against me while I worked her sweet pink pussy.

Fuck, if she let me at her, she would have all the confidence in the world.

My balls drew up and I suppressed a groan as the need to come filled me. Working myself harder and faster, I closed my eyes, imagining those sweet lips wrapped around me, those wide eyes staring into mine.

“Fu-uck!”

I came in a hot, pulsing surge, relishing the wave of euphoria that swept over me, making my muscles quake. My breath was coming in long drags as I let my eyes slip open again.

No big deal. This was perfectly normal for a red-blooded male living with sex on a stick. The old nanny fantasy.

In my dirty mind, Addison was the perfect sensual vixen, ripe for the taking.

And in my mind was exactly where she’d have to stay.

Chapter Eight

Addison

Light streamed into the room and I blinked, rolling over to grab my phone from the nightstand beside me. Clicking it on, I glanced at the time and gasped.

“Shit.” I jumped from the bed and rushed to the baby’s room, my hands already outstretched to soothe whatever tears were surely waiting for me.

Why had the baby monitor stopped working? And why hadn’t Max woken me up before he left? He was already long gone—had probably left an hour ago, which meant Dylan was completely unattended and it was entirely my fault. If she was hurt or hungry . . .

I pushed open the door to find Dylan standing at the bars of her crib, gurgling happily, and I let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” I breathed, moving closer to scoop her into my arms. As I approached, I noticed something else—a little piece of paper, the same shade of white as the crib, with tiny, scrawled words in cramped lettering.

Addison—

Sorry I missed you. The baby got up at the crack of dawn so we had a daddy/daughter early morning. She’s fed and changed and needed a few more Zs, so I figured I’d let her wake you when she was ready.

Have a great day,

Max

I blinked. “Have a great day?” That was it?

Why the hell would he get up so early with the baby when he had to work all day? Unless . . .

I scrubbed my free hand over my face and then lifted Dylan from her crib.

I’d overstepped last night—gotten too personal too fast. And now, of course, he was avoiding me.

Greg had done that too. When I’d first confronted him about his proclivities in the bedroom, he’d shied away from me and barely spoken to me for a week. He’d told me that I ran over him like a steamroller, that I didn’t give him time to express himself naturally.

Had I done that to Max too?

Dylan strained to get down and I set her gently onto the carpet. She toddled toward the little box full of toys I’d brought for her yesterday, and I glanced around the room.

This place alone should have been clue enough that Dylan hadn’t been living here long. Aside from the barely stocked white changing table and the matching white crib, the room was bare. The walls were white and the windows were undressed. It was more fitting for a nunnery than a nursery.

“We’re going to have to do something about this, little lady,” I told Dylan.

“Ball,” she responded, holding one up to show me.

“Smart little girl.”

I pulled her into my arms again and carried her downstairs, careful to make sure her ball was in tow, and together we started our daily routine. We made breakfast together and ate, and afterward, I built a fort for her with the spare linens in the hall closet.