Irresistible (Cloverleigh Farms #1)(21)

“’Night.” She went into the bathroom and shut the door, and I slumped over with a sigh of relief.

Fuck. That was close.

Then I ran to the linen closet, grabbed a spare pillowcase, and descended the stairs three at a time. I had to be out of the living room by the time she came down.

The problem was, I’m shit at changing pillowcases. I can get the old one off just fine, but fuck if I can get the new one on. Three minutes in, I was flustered and sweaty and still trying to shove that fat fucking pillow into the case—why the hell was this so difficult? Why was it sideways? Had the case shrunk in the dryer? Cursing, I switched on a lamp and tried again.

Of course, she came tiptoeing down the stairs in time to see me struggling with it. Giggling, she set her clothing on the couch and reached for the pillow. “What’s happening here, is it fighting back?”

“Yeah.” Gladly, I handed it over, groaning inwardly at the sight of her in my shirt. It was huge on her—the hem nearly reached her knees—but that was probably a good thing. I did not need to see any more of her bare legs.

“There.” She slipped the pillowcase on with no trouble at all.

I shook my head. “What’s the secret? And why do only women seem to know it?”

She hugged the pillow and gave me a devious smile. “I’ll never tell.”

God, she was cute. And sexy. And really, really close. The curtains were closed and only one lamp was on, making the room feel intimate. The house was sleepy and silent under the snow, and we were alone—whatever happened would be our secret. My mind went to a dangerous place. My heart was doing something scary in my chest.

Nothing can happen, I told myself. Nothing.

But instead of backing away from her and going to bed like I was supposed to, I reached for the pillow she held and tossed it onto the couch.

Her smile faded.

I moved closer to her. I took her face in my hands. I rubbed a thumb over her soft pink lips.

“You should tell me to go to bed,” I said quietly.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to kiss you.”

Her hands slid up my chest as she rose on tiptoe. “Mack. Kiss me.”

I lowered my mouth to hers, vowing that I’d only kiss her once—one time—just to know what it was like. Of course, that was before she opened her lips and invited my tongue between them. It was before she slipped her arms around my neck and pressed her chest to mine. It was before my hands moved down her sides and crept beneath the bottom of my shirt. And it was well before she jumped up and wrapped her legs around me, entreating my hands to slip beneath that ass I’d been thinking about all day.

Because after that, I was fucked.

My dick was hard as a rock. My adrenaline was pumping. My willpower had disintegrated.

I stumbled backward onto the couch and set her on my lap so she straddled my thighs. My hands stole underneath her shirt and hers slid into my hair. She sighed softly, pleadingly, as I covered her breasts with my palms and stroked her nipples with my thumbs. Her head fell to one side, and I moved my mouth down her throat, tasting her skin. My cock twitched, trapped between us.

She took my head in her hands and brought my lips back to hers, rocking her hips, rubbing herself against me.

Oh, God. This was getting precarious. Another minute of her grinding on me like that and I was going to embarrass us both by going off like a rocket, and I really didn’t want to do that.

“Frannie.” I put my hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. “We have to stop.”

“Because of the kids?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because this is wrong.” Actually, I’d forgotten all about the kids, which was yet another sign that this was not a good idea. It was killing my brain cells. “Because you’re my co-worker and babysitter. Because you’re my boss’s daughter. Because I’m so much older than you. And because if you don’t stop moving like that, something is going to happen.”

“I don’t mind.”

“In my pants.”

She laughed a little. “I knew what you meant. But it doesn’t have to happen like that. We could …” She hesitated, and when she spoke again her voice was softer, shyer. “We could go to your bedroom.”

I groaned. “No. We can’t.”

“But I want to. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Fuck, don’t tell me that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

I shook my head, vowing to stay strong. “No.”

“But—”

“No.” Summoning up every ounce of willpower I had, and some I didn’t, I lifted her up, set her down beside me, and stood up. “No buts.”

She looked up at me. “You don’t want to?”

“Christ. Of course I do.” In fact, my hard-on was refusing to give up, and I had to adjust myself in my pants.

Her expression was amused as she watched me, her eyes taking in the obvious bulge at my crotch. “Then what’s holding you back?”

“All the things I just said!” It was a struggle to keep my voice down. I was angry and wanted to yell—not at her, exactly, but just in general. At the situation. And definitely at myself. I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, Frannie. I shouldn’t have kissed you. This is my fault.”