The Billionaire's Nanny: A BWWM Romantic Comedy (20 page)

“Um, I took the shuttle here, but sure. How will you change, though?”

“My clothes are in the car,” he says. “I’m always prepared.”

My body is exhausted, but my mind is racing. Looks like I might get that island hook up after all.

Kiera

After turning in our boards and rash guards and enduring more gushing from Allie, I follow Tyler to the parking lot. There’s an adorable red jeep there with a surfboard in the back.

“Why didn’t you bring your own board down?” I ask him.

“I wanted to get a look at the waves first. Honestly, if you hadn’t turned up, I’d have just gone.” He smiles at me. “No offense, but there’s not very good surfing in Aruba.”

“Why would I be offended? I didn’t make the waves. But yeah, I could barely keep my feet in those little wading pool waves.”

“It’s great for beginners!” he says, like he’s trying to convince me not to feel bad.

I get in the passenger side beside him. “It’s fine,” I say. “I didn’t think I was going to make the cover of Surf Magazine or whatever. I didn’t even really want to come, I’d gotten the lessons for Andrea.”

Starting the car and backing out, Tyler gives me a look free of his usual joking manner. “I’m glad you did. And I’m glad she didn’t come.”

It feels a little intense for the first couple hours of knowing someone, so I grin and look out the window, saying “Me too.”

We can’t really talk as we drive, even at the slow island speeds, it’s just too loud. But the silence is comfortable. Tyler follows me into the hotel and I think that I never really invited him, he just assumed.

At the door of my room, for a moment I think about thanking him and promising to meet for dinner. I was going to be different, no more one night stands… But then I see those sky blue eyes, that crooked grin. That chest.

I open the door and usher him in.

“It’s a suite, so there are two bathrooms. Feel free to use Andrea’s, she’s not coming back until Friday.”

“Where’d she go? Camping trip, boating excursion?”

I turn toward my room. "I’ll tell you over dinner. I
need
this shower."

And I need to sort out my thoughts. As the cool water washes all the salt and sand out of my hair and out of every little crevice of my body (good lord, how does sand get in
there
?), I try to figure out what I want from this.

Old Kiera wouldn’t think twice. Tap that ass! Or whatever girls are supposed to say now. I work too much to keep up. The last few times I hooked up though? I ended up feeling depressed for days afterward. And it’s not like I’d wanted something more, I never intended more than a one nighter. But still I was left feeling like I’d had a break up. My mom keeps telling me I need more human connection. Andrea tells me I should have enough fun for the both of us. My sister tells me it’s time to find a real boyfriend. But I don’t feel like I have time for any of those. You stop swimming, you sink to the bottom of the ocean. DC is packed full of the best and the brightest, the top of every law school in the country. And if I don’t keep working, no one is going to stop and hold my place for me.

As I soap up the washcloth and rub it across my body, I can’t help think about how it felt to have Tyler behind me on the board. The way it felt to be wrapped in that strong body. To feel him pressed against my backside. My body is winning out over my brain, for sure.

I wrap the towel around me and go to my closet. I wish I still had that white bandage dress, but Andrea had worn it when she went out and I hadn’t seen her or the dress since. It looked better on her anyway.

I’m reaching for a loose, flowy dress when I look up to see Tyler in the doorway, watching me. The white towel wrapped around his hips is just barely tucked in, the gap exposing a muscular thigh. My heart starts to beat faster and I can’t help but notice the tenting starting at the front of that towel of his.

“Oh, hi!” I say, ever eloquent.

“Hey,” he says and takes a step toward me.

“I thought you were hungry,” I tease, as he puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me in.

"I’m
very
hungry," he says, nuzzling into my neck. My knees feel like they’d like to give way like Allie’s did. My hands roam over the broad expanse of his back as he kisses up my neck and behind my ear. The towel on my hair falls off when I tilt my head to meet his lips.

When our lips meet, he pulls me closer still, pressing our bodies together fiercely. Any doubts that thought they could nag me fall away, leaving me to the need of my body. When his towel finally gives up and falls to the floor, I let my hands drift down to his rear. As finely muscled as the rest of him, firm.

My touch encourages him to pull the towel from my body as well and our skin comes together in near desperation. It feels good, right. I back him toward the bed as we kiss and we climb in.

I am charmed by how pale he is from mid thigh to hip, like he’s put on a white bathing suit that has a shockingly anatomically correct (so
very
correct) drawing on the front.

“I say I’m always prepared, but I’ve slipped up. Hang on, I need to go to my bag,” He starts to get up.

There’s always that moment where I think “Do I offer the condom and look like a big ol’ slut that needs a stack of condoms at the bedside or just wait and let him get it?” And I know that no man should think less of me for it. But some do. And some find it sexy. I decide it’s best to know which sort he his.

“I’ve got you covered,” I say. “As it were.” I open the bedside drawer and pull out the little foil packet. I tear it open with my teeth, smiling at him all the while. It’s pretty clear he’s not the sort to be troubled by it. His already impressive erection grows as I pull the condom out.

When I roll it on, he lets out a moan. Nothing sexier than knowing a man is into what I’m doing. We’re not messing around here. Let all that surfboard time count as foreplay.

I’m so ready for him, but I delay just a bit by kissing my way down that gorgeous chest. All that popping-up and core-work balancing on a board has served him well. Each muscle is defined by sun-kissed skin. I lay back on the bed and pull him to me. It’s like we fit perfectly. I feel him pressing at my opening and my hips rise to take him in.

“In a hurry?” he breathes.

I just nod. I don’t have words or snappy comebacks I just want this man inside me. Now. I’ll worry about feeling depressed later.

He slides all the way in, stretching me. It’s been a while and he’s seriously hung.

“Oh, Kiera,” he moans. He leans down to kiss his way across my breast to my nipple. He pulls it into his mouth, hard, making me gasp. His hips are still as he moves to the other breast. I feel completely filled and my body is urging him to thrust.

Slowly at first, and gradually faster, Tyler begins to move and I move to meet him. My hands clutch at his back as I feel my pleasure mounting.

We find our rhythm easily, as if we’ve been lovers for months, but with the excitement of new passion. I’ve always been…easy to please and I climax twice before he finishes, crying out my name.

When, at last, he rolls to my side, we both lie there, spent. I don’t think I could move if the hotel was on fire.

“Oh, wow,” he breathes.

“No kidding,” I say. It’s an effort just to make my mouth move. “I’m going to need a nap before dinner. Before I take another breath.”

Tyler brushes a wisp of hair off my forehead. “Want me to lay here with you or will you sleep better if I get up?”

My smile comes easily. “If you’re sleepy, stay. If you’re going to fidget, scram.”

“I’ll see you when you wake,” he says, stroking my arm as he gets up.

“Wake me up in an hour if I don’t get up myself!”

I’m pretty sure I’d have slept through until morning on my own, but it was nice to wake up to that smile anyway.

“I’m hungry for food now,” he says standing beside me, “although I could probably be coaxed back into bed.”

“Uh-uh” I say, sitting up. “I’m hungry for food, too. I’m going to shower again and this time you have to let me get dressed.”

“No promises.” He’s already dressed in shorts and a linen shirt. The linen has that perfect not-ironed-but-not-too-wrinkly look. I can never figure out how people do that.

When I emerge after my shower, in that flowing blue dress at last, Tyler is sprawled on the couch, scrolling around on his phone.

“Mm, you look gorgeous,” he says, sitting up. “The spirit of the islands. How about some authentic Aruban food?”

“Iguana and coconut? They don’t grow a whole lot here.”

“I read that iguana’s illegal now, but if you have a hankerin’” there was that Southern accent again, “I’m sure I can find a guy to hook you up.”

I make a face at the thought. “I’m good, thanks.”

After a ride in to the center of the island, we pull up at a big old house that has been converted into a restaurant and gallery. It has the usual feeling of benign neglect. Much of this island feels like a lawsuit waiting to happen. Hard to leave work completely behind.

When we enter, the man behind the little podium lights up.

“Mr. Tyler! You came back! Welcome!” He embraces Tyler and kisses his cheek before doing the same to me. “You brought us a beautiful girl!”

“This is Kiera, Fredo.” He turns to me, “Fredo has the best Aruban food on the island.”

“Or anywhere else,” Fredo booms, “because you don’t find Aruban food anywhere else!”

Once we’re seated at a cozy little table, I ask, “I thought you’d never been to the island before?”

“Oh I haven’t. I just came here a couple of days ago. I’m a good tipper. I make an impression.” He opens the menu.

“So, what do you do to give you that good tippin’ money? You say the surfing doesn’t pay, but clearly you spend a lot of time doing it.”

Fredo arrives at the table with a bottle of white wine. “Compliments of the house,” he says, pouring.

We thank him and when he leaves again I say, “Are you in the mob?”

Tyler laughs. “No, nothing that glamorous. I just made some good investments.”

I give him a little kick under the table. “You know you’re making it worse with your half answers. What do you do?”

He folds the menu and sets it down. “Um, nothing?” he says with that crooked grin. “I’m currently between jobs.”

Ah. A beach bum with a trust fund. He works to make enough money to play and when the money runs out he goes back to work. Never worries because there’s family money to fall back on. I’ve met the type. Cute and funny as he is, I’m glad this is just an island fling so I don’t end up having to loan him money or letting him crash in the guest room.

“What do you do?” he asks.

I take a sip of the wine, wondering if I should come up with a lower paying job to throw him off the trail. I decide it isn’t worth the hassle. I’ll be leaving soon anyway. “I work at a law firm in DC. I handle corporate cases. Well, not handle, I’ve only been with the firm three years, but I work on corporate cases.”

“Ah, like people suing companies or copyright law or what?”

I hesitate. It’s still a little embarrassing. “Defense, usually. Like, environmental complaints lodged against companies.” I see the look in his eyes, I’ve seen it before. Hell, I’ve felt it myself. “I know, it’s evil, mostly. But it pays really well and I have a lot of debt. I went to Georgetown Law and that does not come cheaply. I figure I put in some time here and then I can go do what I want.”

“What do you want?”

I sigh. “I wish I knew. Not this. It feels good to pay the bills and go on vacation with my friend. But it does kill my soul a little.”

“Just a little?” he smiles and the candlelight on his face is just…there’s no other word, he looks beautiful. Why do I want to spill my guts to this slacker?

But I do. “A lot. I hate it. My boss is an asshole, the firm is sleazy. Our clients are scuzz balls. I don’t sleep well and it’s embarrassing to tell people what I do. My only good friend is Andrea because I don’t trust the other people in my firm and that’s who I see for 60 hours a week.” I actually feel tears spring to my eyes. I never cry. I also never really let myself think about this stuff. I blink them away. “But it’s a job people would kill for. Maybe literally. And it pays the bills. I tell myself it’s temporary, but I wonder how many people grow old in a job they hate that they thought was temporary?”

Tyler reaches across the table to take my hand. “A lot of them. But you don’t have to. You’re young, you live in the lawyer capitol of the world. Do you think you’d stay in law?”

“Yeah. Probably? I don’t know. It’s what I know how to do. It’s what I spent 130 thousand dollars learning to do.” I sniff and smile at him. “I think I can cross professional surf god off my career list.”

“Are you kidding? A gorgeous black woman that surfs? You’d be like a unicorn. A few more lessons and you’re in the big time.” He grins at me.

“I don’t want your Affirmative Action charity. Or to make my living almost drowning. At least I get to breathe air in a law firm.”

“It’s not all sulfur and brimstone then?”

“Only in the partners’ offices.” I glance at the menu. “So, what do we eat?”

Tyler waves the waitress over and orders Kerry Kerry and Keshi Yena.

“So…what will those be?”

“Wait and see,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “So you were going to tell me where your friend has gone?”

“Ah, right. Andrea. Well, I brought her here hoping to help her forget a man she thought was cheating on her, but it turned out he wasn’t and he came down here and bought a boat and rescued her from a terrible date and took her away to his house on Bonaire. You know, as you do.”

“Uh, wow!”

“I know, right? Billionaires, who needs ’em?” I drained my wine glass and set it down for more.

Tyler

What the hell
is
this?

I’ve known this girl what, five hours? six? and I can barely focus on her words. And not because I’m busy thinking about how to get her into bed–did that, thanks, and it was great–but because my brain has turned to mush. It’s like all I can do is look at her in the candlelight and think, “Girl pretty.”