Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Curled up in my son’s bed is Sloane. She has her arms wrapped protectively around my boy, and he’s sleeping as if he’s the safest he’s ever been. The exhaustion I was feeling leaves, and something else, something stronger, takes its place. It’s a feeling that’s foreign, and I pretend I don’t know what it is.
Instead, I leave the room and rush down the hall to mine. I change out of the suit I had to wear to the game, into pajama pants, and rush back to them. I don’t hesitate to step over the footrails of the floor bed Sloane and I picked out for Camden, and settle beside Sloane.
This bed was the second-best decision I’ve made in the last few weeks. The first? Hiring Sloane. Having her here, coming home to both of them, it’s surreal, and this moment right here, it’s everything.
Not able to help myself, I snuggle up to Sloane, wrapping my arm around her. She jolts awake. “Shh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” I press my lips to her cheek, not willing to relinquish my hold on her.
“It’s okay,” she mumbles sleepily.
I wait for her to tell me that she’s going to go to her own bed, but instead, she surprises me when she settles into my embrace. I pull her closer and bury my face in her neck. “I missed you,” I tell her.
“Glad you’re home,” she says, placing her hand over my hand that rests on her belly. She laces her fingers through mine and drifts back to sleep.
For as tired as I was, it takes a while for sleep to finally claim me. I can’t stop thinking about the woman in my arms. Sloane’s been in my life for a few years now, but it wasn’t until she offered to help me that I genuinely feel as though I got to know her. Her heart is huge, her smile is vibrant, and she’s sexy as fuck. My cock hardens thinking about her long, tanned legs. I should shift so that she doesn’t wake and feel it pressed against her ass, but honestly, I wouldn’t care if she did. She’s been here for over a month, and each day it’s harder and harder not to touch her.
I manage to do so whenever I can, but this is only the second time I’ve been able to hold her in my arms, and I’m worried that I’ll never be able to sleep again without her next to me. That’s my final thought as sleep finally claims me.
“Daddy, sweep.” I hear Camden try—and fail—to whisper.
“He is,” Sloane whispers. “We should be quiet and not wake him up.”
“Too late,” I say, pulling Sloane back into my chest. Waking up with my arms around her is the best start to my day.
“Daddy!” Camden cheers, and I chuckle. He leans over Sloane, resting his arms on her hips, and smiles at me. “Daddy, sweep.”
“I was, but now, I’m awake. Are you hungry?” I ask him.
He nods and rubs his belly. “Ice cweam.”
Sloane and I both laugh at that. “You’re cute,” I tell my son. “We don’t have ice cream for breakfast.”
“Ice cweam yummy.” He grins, rubbing his belly again, before abandoning his post and climbing out of bed.
I watch him as he runs to the small kitchen set my parents bought him, and starts pretending to make breakfast. “Good morning,” I whisper to Sloane, sliding my hand under her T-shirt. I know I’m pressing my luck, but the need to feel her soft skin beneath my fingertips wins over my concern that I should not be touching my nanny, my friend, like this. Yet, here I am, and I have no regrets.
She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “Morning. Good game.” She smiles.
“You watched?”
“We both did.” She nods toward Camden. “I was going to invite the girls over, but I didn’t ask you if that was okay, so Cam and I just made a day of it.”
“They’re family, Sloane. Of course, you can invite them over. I want you to feel like this is your home.” There’s a deeper meaning to my words that I hope she understands. I like her here in my space, coming home to her. It’s been a little over a month, and I can’t imagine not coming home to a house that she’s not living in. However, I continue to push those thoughts to the back of my mind and ignore them.
She lets me touch her. Lets me steal as much contact as I possibly can, and we never talk about it, like now. My hand spans over her toned, flat belly, but neither one of us will mention it. It’s become this thing between us, and while it’s not enough, it is what it is for now. I know starting something with her will complicate our lives, but the more time I spend with her, I am beginning to think that I don’t really give a fuck how complicated being with her becomes. She’s starting to feel like home, more than this house ever has.