Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
And then we’re alone.
Gulp.
With the grace of a panther, Luc slinks from his seat and carries his coffee to the top of the island where I’m seated. He leans on his forearm, filling my peripheral view with arm porn. If you’re not in shirt sleeves, you’re not doing it right. I ignore the show, of course. I also ignore how close we are now. Close enough I feel the static in the air, the warning hum of two objects fighting a collision course.
“I didn’t realize.” He slides my hair from my shoulder, then brushes the back of his knuckle over my hickey. His mark. I begin to chew my croissant like it’s steak, forcing myself not to react. “I was too caught up in the moment,” he murmurs without a hint of an apology. His knuckle slides lower, ghosting the opening of my shirt.
“I had.” I swallow. “I had an incident with Felix last night,” I say, desperate to change the subject. To ignore the way he’s looking at me. And what he’s doing to me.
“My son has a crush on you, I think.” He gives an indulgent smile.
“No, he hasn’t.”
“He can barely look at you. And I can sympathize.”
“He can’t look at me because I caught him watching adult content last night,” I say primly. I figure ‘adult content’ sounds more professional than porn, and professional is what I’m aiming for. The antidote to the woman he was tongue deep in last night.
“But he’s twelve.” Confusion mars his face.
“Nearly thirteen, Sylvie says. Which is the age where boobs and gaming rules, according to my mother. And where personal hygiene and grooming becomes optional. She should know given she’s raised four of you lot. Males of the species,” I add for clarity.
“So it was just…”
“Boobs?” I offer as he flounders. I give a shrug, though I want to laugh. Something tells me there aren’t many times I’ll catch M. LDH discombobulated. “Well, there were boobs. A lot of boobs as it happens. Only one pair, but—” I shake my head and start again. “It was a little more than that, I’m afraid. A little, er, harder core.”
“Porn.” The word jumps from his mouth like he’s just been punched in the gut. “But he’s just a boy.”
I shrug. I got nothin’.
“He was always so happy. Content. But these last months…” His words trail off, and for half a second, I think he’s about to say something soft or maybe sad, but his voice comes out flinty instead. “There’s a filter on his internet usage. This should not have happened.”
“Or maybe it’s just normal,” I say. “Kids are super tech-savvy these days.”
He straightens, jaw flexing angrily. “I pay a great deal for my children to be protected.”
“Are you Jesus?”
He shakes his head. “What?”
“Why’ve you gotta be so cross?”
He looks at me like English truly is his second language.
“And you can’t tell him off because I promised him I wouldn’t tell you.”
“That is not what a responsible nanny is supposed to do.”
“I’ll remember that. Should I ever become a proper nanny.” I fold my arms as I mirror his expression. “Obviously, you’re going to need to talk to him about it, but you’re not throwing me under the bus. Not until I’m gone.”
His nostrils flare and I find myself hurrying on.
“I remember the first time I saw a naked—” I clamp my mouth shut. The last thing I need to do is invite anecdote-for-anecdote here.
“What did you say to him?” Luc’s eyes turn searching, as if he’s trying to peer through my skull.
“I answered his questions.” I stop destroying the remains of my croissant. “Best I could.”
“What did he ask?”
“If it was normal. I told him it was normal to be curious, but that his brain wasn’t yet developed enough, aged sufficiently, to deal with seeing that kind of stuff.”
“Was it bad? What exactly was he watching?”
“It was sex. Unrealistic and…” I scrunch my nose. “Nothing kinky, as far as I could tell. I mean, it’s not like I drew up a chair and watched it with him.”
“Bien sûr.” He reaches out to take my hand, but I pull back, dropping it to my lap. “Thank you for being there for him. For being the voice of reason.”
“No problem.” Something like consternation ripples across my brow.
“Was there something else?”
“Well, he, er, asked if ladies really… put it in their mouth.” No way I’m using the word penis, and it’s too early in the day for cock. But—fuck.
No—not buff fuck. Just fuck. And because my brain is a masochist, it reminds me of him teasing me there last night. Not that I’d ever let him bf me, even if the feather of his touch made me throb all over like I was made entirely of heavy bass.
I slice my hair behind my ears. I feel like my head is about to explode. I can’t believe I practically begged him to put his c—penis inside me.