Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(29)

I grab the base of the condom and roll off of Brooke, laying there with my arm across my forehead, my eyes focused on the ceiling above the bed. The sex was awesome, and wow, Brooke feels good. But … didn't I tell myself no on this one?

I glance over at her, looking for any sign of tears or disappointment or frustration. Instead, she's also looking at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“Thanks,” she says, turning her head to look at me with a small smile. “That was great.”

I smile back and feel a small amount of relief wash over me.

“Good. Wouldn't want to disappointment you on your first time.”

Brooke stares at me for a moment, her lips twitching.

“So … can you get out now?”

I blink at her several times before raising both brows. Is this chick kicking me out again?

“Time for you to pick up the kids,” she says, sitting up and sliding off the bed.

I watch her disappear into the bathroom, that perfect ass flashing as she moves, before I groan and reach down to pull the condom off my dick.

Right. Kids.

So much for my after sex glow.





Whoa.

I wait until I hear the sound of an engine before sneaking out of the room and into the hallway. I slide along the wall like some kind of hero in an action flick, peeking past the curtains until Zayden pulls the minivan out of the driveway.

My entire body is on fire right now, tingling from my toes to the crown of my head. The sensations running through me are hard to explain, like the pleasure I get from masturbating … but different. I feel alive, vibrant, like I can do f*cking anything right now.

In the back of my mind, I know all I'm feeling are residual shots of oxytocin from the orgasm, but I don't care. I feel too good to care. I just let some guy I met four days ago take my V-card on a shopping spree.

Remaining balance … zero.

I put my fingers up to my temples and press hard, breathing out as I shuffle back to my sister's—now my—room. When I came upstairs to shower, I couldn't stop thinking about Zayden or the way he played with that baby like it was his own. I think some girly hormones are at fault here because … he's just so goddamn cute with that kid. Maybe it's some basic biological instinct telling me that he'd make a good dad or something?

I ignore those feelings and try to let myself just enjoy this moment. I got what I wanted, didn't I? Going to the club and stripping tonight … I'm still not excited about it, but I feel better. Zayden saw me first; Zayden slept with me first. He might be a stranger, but he's a nice guy and at least I get to know that I made the choice to sleep with him.

Oh. And did I mention it was great? Beyond great.

It was exactly what I was hoping it would be, all this time. Makes me not feel so bad about waiting it out like this. Suddenly I wish I was back in Berkeley and Zay was some guy from one of my classes. Maybe we could date for a while or something? I could hit a party with my roommate and tell her all about my encounter with Zay's perfect inked flesh.

But instead, I have to do my hair and paint my face and get ready for tonight.

This time, I'm not going to be late. I'm going to show up on time, and I'm going to do what I have to do to make money. I'm not going to take crap from anybody, I'm not going to get fired, and I sure as hell am not going to let anybody touch me.

It's going to be okay. Everything is.

Because I'm going to make sure it turns out that way.



My night at the strip club is weird. That's the only way to describe it. Or maybe I feel weird because of what happened with Zayden and me. It's like there's this secret surprise waiting inside of me that I want to tell everyone about except that there's no one around that cares or wants to listen. I shoot some texts to my friends back in Berkeley, but it's just not the same without being there in person.

The manager of the club tells me to do exactly what I did during the audition. According to my friends, some places in So Cal were willing to hire girls on the spot based on looks alone, but I had to actually try out for a job here at the Top Hat. It's the only club in town and most of the girls look like they've actually taken dance lessons before. At least it's clean inside, and the bouncers look big and brutal.

The crowd is pretty much nonexistent, and some of the other dancers complain, but I feel myself breathe a sigh of relief, dressing up in my black teddy, matching thong, and the towering heels I bought for a Halloween party once. Oddly enough, my roommate back in Berkeley thought it would be super awesome to take pole dancing classes, so in a freak turn of luck, I know exactly what I'm doing.

Afterwards, I don't feel as bad as I thought I would. I mean, it's not great and it's definitely not my dream job, but at least bullshit and harassment aren't tolerated by the bouncers or the management. I can tell customers to f*ck off if they get too rowdy and not worry about being fired. Honestly, in another job, it might be worse having to deal with subtle misogynistic crap all the time.

I think I can do this—at least until I get my degree. Then I'll be able to get a job as a biostatistician and make a cool hundred grand a year to start. I might have to move the girls at that point, but at least things should be more stable then.

As I'm driving home after, I let the radio play and listen to some stupid pop songs instead of my usual hardcore stuff. I have no idea why, probably because of Zayden or something, but I'm definitely not in a place to psychoanalyze that right now.