I always did love a challenge.
Jesus, she’s been here for two minutes, and I’m already overwhelmed with indecent thoughts about her. Have I ever been this turned on by a woman? The answer has to be hell fucking no.
In truth, most of the women I’ve dated in the past haven’t had the curves Cassandra possesses. They’re usually super-toned gym rats or they barely eat and walk around like they could blow over at any second.
Cassandra is not them.
She’s full in all the right places. Her breasts alone are something I could get lost in and feel deliriously happy about. They’re far more than a handful, and I fucking love the thought of struggling to possess them. For the better part of two weeks, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve pictured burying my face in them and tasting their softness.
Fuck, I’m fully erect now.
I pull my T-shirt down over my groin to conceal the reaction I have whenever I’m near this woman. I didn’t think I ever really had a type, but Cassandra is making me doubt that fact now. It’s not just her luscious body that turns me on, though. It’s the way she seems so comfortable in her own skin. Effortless. She doesn’t doubt herself at every turn. Hell, I’ve made more money than I ever dreamed possible, and I still fight imposter syndrome nearly every fucking day of my life. Then there’s Cassandra, who exists like she knows exactly what she was put on this planet to do.
And the natural comfort she’s found with my kid in only two short weeks causes a warmth to bloom in my chest. She’s not just a nanny. She’s become Everly’s friend. The two of them interact like they’ve known each other their whole lives.
How did she fucking do that?
Granted, I’ve never introduced Everly to any women I’ve dated in the past, so I don’t really have anyone to compare her to. And I use the word “dated” loosely because I don’t really do relationships. Women I’ve slept with have always been a matter of convenience. And if they didn’t have any expectations of me, then I went for it. I scratched that un-scratchable itch I had to fuck someone. Hard.
Unfortunately, that spark I feel for them fades quickly after sex. It’s like as soon as we have sex, a light switch gets flicked on and casts ominous shadows over everything that doesn’t work about this person in my life. Namely, that she’s not good enough for my kid. And I’m only getting divorced once.
Which is why I’ve resigned myself to a life of bachelorhood. I don’t need another person to take my attention away from what matters most. My daughter and my company. In that order.
Consequently, these dirty thoughts I’m having about the nanny need to go the fuck away. And soon.
“What do you think?” A voice cuts into my inner reverie, and I’m forced to tear my eyes from Cassandra’s ass to look up into the mirror. Her green eyes captivate me as the blood rushes out of my cock and back into my lust-filled brain.
“Beautiful,” I blurt, my gaze never leaving Cassandra’s.
“You really like it, Daddy?” Everly’s innocent tone interjects.
My blood rushes to my ears as I look at my daughter’s hair for the first time and realize what I just did. Licking my lips, I do my best to sound aloof. “You look like you’re ready for a space adventure.”
“Dad,” Everly drones, clearly not amused by my dad joke. She twists around and hops off the bathroom counter to wrap her hands around Cassandra’s hips. “Thank you, Cozy.”
Lucky hands.
Fuck, I’m a pervert.
The doorbell rings, thankfully snapping me out of the mental stroke I must be in the middle of to let my thoughts wander again. Everly takes off running, so I shove my hand into my pocket to hide my hard-on and follow my kid.
“Uncle Luke!” Everly peals, opening the front door and hugging my youngest brother.
“Evie girl, holy shit, you’re huge!” Luke says, grabbing Everly’s hand and giving her a spin.
She giggles proudly.
I turn back to Cassandra. “Don’t mind the language. My brothers work construction, and I’m afraid it’s just something I gave up on correcting long ago.” I turn my eyes to Everly. “Luckily, Everly knows what words are for grown-ups and what words are for kids, right?”
“Uncle Luke lets me swear sometimes,” she replies with an evil snicker.
I swerve accusing eyes at my brother. “What the hell, Luke?”
“It’s therapeutic.” He shrugs, reaching up to scratch his chin that’s covered in a thick dark beard. “Kids get angry too, and sometimes fart whistle just doesn’t cut it.”