'Tis the Season Page 4

  But as he kissed and nuzzled her breast, he paused. Damn. Even in a mindless haze of lust, he had to make sure she really wanted this. He thought she did, but still . . . Barely able to speak over his heavy breaths, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Lisette,” he whispered raggedly, “are you okay?”

  Panting just as heavily, she stared back at him, her dark eyes clouded with desire. “What?”

  “Are you okay? I’m just making sure.”

  “Of course I’m okay.”

  “Good. But . . .” Even in his dazed, slightly drunken state, he would always respect the boundaries. “If you want me to stop—”

  “No!” she whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

  His heart felt as if it had jumped in his chest. The raw need of her words undid him. His gaze locked with hers.

  “I don’t want to stop,” she said quickly. “I know that I should, but I don’t.”

  “Thank God,” he said. “Because I want you so much right now . . .”

  “I want you too,” she said. Her hands cradled his face. “So no more talking. Just . . . take me.”

  That did it. He crushed his mouth to hers, not holding back. He wasn’t sure he could have held back then if his life depended on it, not after she’d said something so fucking hot. He wanted her, needed her, had to have her . . .

  He took her mouth, wild with lust, and his fingers continued to explore her. She pressed her mouth to his neck to muffle her moans; her hips undulated against his hand, and it drove him insane. Her scent flooded his senses, from the trace of sweet vanilla on her skin to the musky smell of her arousal that made him reel with desire. His heart was pounding; he wondered if she felt it as her shaking hands undid the buttons on his shirt. She spread it open wide, then yanked it free from the waistband of his pants and ran her hands along his chest, his sides, everywhere she could reach.

  Still kissing her, he pushed her panties to the side, then plunged two fingers into her soft folds, already so wet and warm. She cried out helplessly into his mouth, and her whole body arched, pressing closer. He broke away to kiss, lick, nibble, and suck on her neck, her throat, then back to her mouth as her hips moved in time with the primal rhythm his fingers set. She moaned and squirmed and grasped at him, and every sound, every movement, drove him closer to the brink. He couldn’t hold back much longer. His mind had left the building long ago, and he was working on pure sensation.

  “Touch me,” he whispered gruffly against her ear. “I need you . . .”

  She grabbed at the button at his waist, brushing against his erection as she lowered the zipper. He hissed at the contact and shifted to give her better access, his fingers inside her never stopping. She reached into his boxer briefs. When her fingers curled around him, hard and throbbing, his head fell forward and he groaned into her neck. He thought he might lose it right then. She stroked him; he stroked her; they panted and bucked and shuddered . . .

  He didn’t know how it happened . . . It all went so fast, like flashes of light. But he rolled enough for her to roughly push down his pants and briefs, and he tugged down her panties, and she dug her nails into his shoulders, and then he was inside her, thrusting deep into her liquid heat. Both of them groaned as he filled her, stretching her . . . Jesus, she was tight, but he pushed deeper . . .

  With a gasp and a small cry, her legs came up to lock around his hips, and they rocked together, clawing to get closer to each other . . . Moving faster, panting, he thrust his hips harder, again, and again, and again . . . God, she felt so fucking good . . . It was desperate, frantic; the pleasure was too much; it felt too good. He moaned her name . . . then her legs tightened, and her nails dug into his back as she cried out, the climax overtaking her. Her throaty moans shattered him, and he went right over the edge with her, unable to hold back another second. His orgasm hit hard, the waves of sensation battering and flooding him. Finding release deep inside her, he gripped her hips, groaned, and buried his face in the curve of her neck and the soft tangles of her hair.

  He couldn’t catch his breath, and it sounded like she couldn’t either. They lay there panting, still holding each other.

  * * *

  Once the dark and stillness settled over them, Lisette’s mind went into overdrive. Full-blown panic mode. “Oh, God,” she whispered raggedly. “Oh, God, what did we—ohhh, my God!”

  “Shhh,” Charles whispered back, rearing up on his elbows to look at her. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

  “Everything is so far from fine!” She squirmed beneath him. Good God, he was still inside her.

  “Lisette,” he began as he shifted. The couch was too narrow for him to roll off and lie beside her, so he withdrew from her body, then rose from the couch altogether. “Listen—”

  “No, please.” Alarm made bile rise in her throat. Now that the fog of lust had cleared, the severity of their actions hit her like a sledgehammer. Oh, God, she’d put everything that mattered in jeopardy. Had she gone temporarily insane? Apparently so. She needed to get out of there, needed to be alone to process what she’d done, and what might follow. Her nightgown had been pushed up above her breasts, and she yanked it down, then stood and pulled her robe around her. Where the hell were her panties? She’d never find them in the dark. Wonderful.

  “Let’s talk about this,” Charles said quietly, watching her. “Don’t just bolt.”

  “What should I say?” she asked, unable to keep the note of rising panic out of her tone. “Thanks, that was amazing, but I really hope you don’t fire me tomorrow?”

  “Whoa, wait.” He stepped to her and put his hands on her shoulders, willing her to look at him. “That’s not going to happen. We both did this.”

  She tied the sash of the robe around her waist with jerky motions, her gaze sliding down. He was still naked, and even in her panic her eyes couldn’t resist a quick final tour of his gorgeous body. With a soft gasp, she stepped back, putting distance between them as she averted her eyes. “Yes, we both did this. But we’re not both on the same level here, Charles. Not by a mile. And I just broke every rule in the nanny book. Hell, the employee book. You’re my boss. I live in your home. And everything that I—” She clamped her mouth shut. With a hard shake of her head, she headed for the door.

  * * *

  Charles watched her all but run from the room, her face still flushed, whispering an apology as she brushed past him. He reached for her arm, but she slipped from his grip. “Lisette, wait!” He wanted to talk to her, for her to hear him out, but he couldn’t just follow her into the hallway naked.

  Jesus fucking Christ. He was standing there naked, in the middle of his study, because he’d just had sex with his children’s nanny on the goddamn couch.

  Vehemently spitting a stream of curses, heart pounding, he grabbed his clothes from the floor and put them back on. For a minute, he paced the room, hands raking through his hair and over his face as his mind spun. What the hell had happened? Sure, he’d always found Lisette attractive, very much so, but this . . . The ramifications of his actions could be staggering.

  He stopped in his tracks. One of the most incredible things was the truth: she’d wanted him too. More than willing, she’d been right there with him, practically from the first kiss. It’d been a passionate, hot romp, the sexiest encounter he’d had in years. The erotic sounds of her moans and sighs, of her whispered throaty pleas not to stop, all still echoed in his head, making his blood pulse through his veins. Lord help him, the whole thing had happened unbelievably fast, but it’d been so damn good.

  Too good—and too fast. It hit him like a tidal wave: he hadn’t used protection. Oh, for fuck’s sake . . . A shiver ran over his skin as he winced.

  He stormed to the standing bar and poured himself a new glass of scotch.

  Chapter Four

  Someone was knocking.

  Lisette forced herself to consciousness, opening her eyes a crack as the knocking repeated. Someone was knocking on her door. She was in her bed. Th
e sunshine that poured through her windows was bright, so it was morning. What day was it? Had she overslept?

  “Set?” It was Myles’s sweet helium voice. “Set, can I come in? You awake?”

  She glanced at the clock. It was almost seven-thirty. Her mind was blurry. She hadn’t overslept; it was okay; it was Sunday. And . . . oh, God.

  Her heart skipped a beat before taking off with an anxious hammering as a chill skittered over her skin. Charles. Oh, God, oh no, oh noooo. They’d had wild, crazy, clawing animal sex on the couch in his study.

  The anxiety forced nausea up into her throat, and she swallowed hard. Her life as she knew it was probably over.

  “Lisette?” Myles knocked again. “Aren’t we going to get pumpkins today?”

  Shit. Her mind and heart racing, she threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, looking around nervously. She still wore her nightgown, the soft one with the red and hot-pink swirls, the one Charles had pushed up to under her armpits last night as he screwed her senseless. She wore no panties . . . He’d all but torn them off in the heat of the moment, in a lust-driven frenzy. Good God, where were they now?!?

  “Lisette? Are you sleeping?”

  She went to the door and flung it open, but forced her voice to stay calm as she looked down at Myles. “Hi, sweetie. Yes, I was still sleeping. Um . . . are you the only one awake?”

  “Uh-huh.” He smiled and nodded, his dark hair mussed, looking adorable in his light blue Olaf pajamas. “Ava and Thomas are still sleeping, and so’s Daddy. But he’s sleeping on the couch in his office. In his clothes. Isn’t that funny?”

  Lisette swallowed hard. “Yeah, it is kind of funny. He must’ve been really tired.” Yeah, he’d likely been tired, all right. “Just let your daddy sleep, okay, sweetie?” she said, forcing lightness into her voice.

  “Okay.” Myles looked at her hair and giggled. “Your hair looks crazy!”

  Her hand flew to her head, feeling the tangled mess; she could barely get her fingers through some of the knots. God, what she must look like. She probably looked like Medusa . . . or someone who’d gotten her brains screwed out by her hot boss on a couch in the middle of the night. She swallowed convulsively.

  “I’m hungry,” Myles said. “Can I have some breakfast?”

  “S-sure.” Poor baby was hungry. And why not start the day? It wasn’t as if she was going to be able to fall back to sleep. Eileen would get there at eight, but she couldn’t let Myles starve. “Just let me put my hair up, get my robe on, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen in five minutes. Okay?”

  “Okay! I’m gonna get some of my cars!” Happy and blissfully clueless, the little boy shot down the hall to his room.

  Lisette closed the door and leaned back against it. Anxiety welled, closing her throat and knotting her stomach. She started to tremble as she slid down the door, sinking to her knees. Her heart jackhammered wildly as she closed her eyes and tried to breathe. She had to own this. Because goddammit, she’d been just as responsible for what had happened as he was. She’d been a willing participant as they’d gone into forbidden territory together. But of the two of them, she was the one whose whole life was likely going to fall apart.

  Would he be overly kind as he fired her, or cold and aloof? She didn’t know which would be worse. Looking around her room, the place that she adored, sick misery filled her. This had become home to her. She loved her job, the kids, living here. And she’d blown everything sky-high for one insanely passionate encounter. Her eyes slipped closed as shame and regret flooded her.

  Yes, she’d had something of a crush on Charles Harrison III from the day she started working for him. And yes, over time, that harmless crush had developed into some real feelings. But never in a million years had she dreamed something like this would happen. And deep down, she knew the dark truth of it: if she had it to do over again, she still wouldn’t be able to resist him. The chemistry between them . . . it had ignited in seconds, like a brushfire in the desert. She was surprised that once they got started, they hadn’t burned the house down with that scorching fire.

  Her days as a nanny here were over; she was convinced of that. Now she just had to wait until he woke up and actually pulled the trigger. Shaking, she wrapped her arms around herself. Whatever happened, she was sure it was going to be hell on earth, but she’d deal with it. God knew she’d had enough practice with that.

  * * *

  Charles groaned, wishing he would just die already. Lying on the tiled floor of one of the three bathrooms on the first floor, the one closest to his study, he cursed himself for the hundredth time for being a moron. How much scotch had he drunk after Lisette left the study? He had no idea, but he sure was paying the price now. Another wave of nausea rose up, and he stuck his head back in the toilet. When he was done retching, he flushed and flopped back down to lie on the floor. At least the black-and-white tiles were cool against his face.

  He could see the headlines now: USUALLY DIGNIFIED COO OF HARRISON ENTERPRISES FOUND DEAD FROM HANGOVER ON BATHROOM FLOOR. Yeah, that’d be perfect. Just great. But at least he’d be dead, instead of puking his guts up with his head pounding and a clammy, sick feel to his skin.

  There was a soft knock on the door, then Eileen O’Rourke’s light Irish brogue. “Mr. Harrison? Can I come in? I want to check on you again.”

  “I’m alive,” he called out feebly.

  “Well, that’s good,” she said through the door. “I have some saltines and ginger ale for you. And some Gatorade. Whichever will stay down. Got to keep you hydrated, sir. Please, let me come in.”

  Charles closed his eyes and groaned. Eileen, the weekend housekeeper, had five children of her own, all grown now. Surely she’d seen worse than him in his present state. And he was getting light-headed; crackers and a drink could be good. “Come in.”

  He heard the door open, then close, and footsteps across the floor. “Oh, you poor dear.” He opened his eyes to see Eileen set the tray on the sink as she looked him over and softly tsk-tsked.

  “How long have I been in here?” he asked.

  “About two hours now. Figure the worst must be behind you.” She held out the glass of ginger ale. “Here.”

  He leaned up onto his elbows. “Jesus. I’m a little dizzy . . .”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m here.” She crouched down beside him and held the glass to his lips. “Drink this slowly,” she instructed. He did as he was told. “There you go. Hopefully it’ll stay down.” She straightened again, and he watched her put down the glass and lift a washcloth from the tray. “You’re a mess, mister.”

  “Can’t deny that.”

  She ran the cloth under the faucet, wrung it out a bit, then came back to sit beside him. “Come here.” With gentle care, she moved the cool, wet terry cloth over his forehead, then the rest of his face.

  “God, that feels good,” he murmured, his eyes slipping closed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She pressed it to the back of his neck.

  “I don’t think anyone’s done this for me since I was a kid.”

  “I’d bet you didn’t need anyone to do this for you.”

  “Probably.” His eyes opened and focused. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “Half-past two.”

  “Jesus. I’ve lost the day.”

  “Still have some of it left, and the evening. The sky won’t fall without you.” She smiled kindly. “Let’s try a cracker now, shall we? And if you keep that down, we’ll get you some ibuprofen for what I’m sure is a nasty headache.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Charles was sitting up against the wall, feeling more human. He’d kept down four crackers, a few sips of ginger ale, and some Gatorade. “I owe you for this, Eileen. Really, I’m very grateful.”

  “Nonsense,” she said dismissively. “Though I don’t mind telling you, you had me worried. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “What, hungover? To the point of pathetic and massive vomiting? Because I don’t thin
k I have been since Vanessa left.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling the stubble across his jaw and chin, then froze. “Oh, God. The kids. Do they know?”

  “Lisette told them you were very tired and weren’t feeling well,” Eileen said. “So that they’d leave you be. They just think you’re a little sick. But they’re fine. They’re in the playroom, playing video games.”

  “Oh, good. Thank you.” Lisette. His heart skipped a beat, then started pounding. Holy fucking shit. Lisette. Flashes went through his mind . . . her beneath him, him kissing her, running his hands all over her body . . . the feel of her lips against his neck, of her breath hot against his skin . . . of him thrusting deep inside her as her legs clamped around him. Her sexy moans rang in his ears. His eyes slipped closed as a deep chill ran through him.

  But years of practice tamping down his emotions helped him swallow back the new surge of nausea and keep his voice neutral. He opened his eyes and cleared his throat. “Is Lisette with the kids, then?”

  “No, sir. It’s Sunday; you know it’s her day off. She started breakfast for the children, but when I got here at eight, she went about her day. She was out the door by eight-thirty.”

  His eyes squeezed shut again. They were all supposed to go pumpkin picking together, but he didn’t blame her for wanting to vanish. Who knew what she was thinking? He’d have to wait to find out. Lisette didn’t usually come back to the house until late on Sunday nights, leaving him—or Eileen, if he was away on a business trip—to put the kids to bed. Which meant at least he had time to think and figure out what the hell to do next.

  More flashes of his time with Lisette went through his mind . . . Her beneath him in the dark, soft and warm and smooth, her arms and legs wrapped around him . . . Her voice echoed in his head, raspy with desire: “Take me.”

  Something low in his groin heated at the memory. How the fuck had any of that happened?

  He snorted at himself in derision. Getting slightly drunk and feeling lonely and sorry for himself, that’s how. They’d toppled onto the couch . . . and the feel of her, the scent of her, the taste of her, had ripped all logic out of his head and replaced it with pure animal lust.