Page 48 of The Surrogate Nanny

Ice cold water drowned me as I hung my head below the shower head. I’d hoped it would bring me back to reality and wash away all the impure thoughts of filling Simone Livingston with my cum out of my head.

So far, it’s not working.

Knocking on the door interrupted me.

“Anthony?”

“Is everything okay, Simone?” I asked, turning off the shower.

“I’m not sure. Jonathan is here.”

Jonathan’s here? Why?

“Were you expecting him?”

“No. He said he had to go over some legal matters with you. I told him to wait in your office.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

“I’ll start on breakfast.”

“No. I said I’ll make breakfast, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I won’t argue with you. Nori wants French toast, sausage links, and strawberries.”

I smirked and toweled off. “Is that what she told you?” I challenged.

“Yes.”

“I find that very hard to believe, considering the only word she utters is ‘mama.’”

“That’s all she says aroundyou,” she taunted through the door.

“I don’t doubt it,” I agreed before opening the door. Simone’s mouth dropped, just as it did the first night when she caught me in a towel. In a flash, my lips crushed against hers. Simone froze, but only for a second. Her fingers threaded through my damp hair as I pushed her toward my bed. It wasn’t until her body bounced against my mattress that she came to her senses. I laughed when she attempted to scramble away from me and caught her by her ankle. She yelped when I pulled her back.

“Ant—”

“Shhhhhhh. I’m not going to do anything to you. We’re stopping here,” I soothed. Simone’s body sagged with relief as she fell against the mattress. “We should talk about...this.”

“What’s this?”

“This physical attraction we have for each other. You do realize this will probably happen again, right? You opened Pandora’s Box when you kissed me.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Just...I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. It doesn’t feel real. We can talk later tonight after we put Nori to bed.”

“Tonight it is, then. Leave before I go for seconds.”

“You’re diabolical, Anthony Powell,” she joked as she scooted off the bed.

“I’ve been called worse.”

***

“Hey, Jonathan, I wasn’t expecting you. I hope you’re not billing me for these house calls.”

“No, not this time. It’s part business, part social call.”

“Are you staying for breakfast?” I asked, motioning him to follow me to the kitchen.