Library

Maghanap

Home / Romance / Resisting The Playboy's Charm / Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Lahat ng Kabanata ng Resisting The Playboy's Charm: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

113 Kabanata

11

CarolinaI wake up the next morning cocooned in a bed that feels like a cloud. I don't think I've ever slept so well in my entire life. Between the down pillows and the million-thread-count silk sheets, I've never been so comfortable.It takes a second to remember where I am, and for a moment, I'm overwhelmed at what I've taken on. I've never been a nanny before. I don't have that much experience with kids, especially one-on-one. Can I even handle something like that?Then I think of the little boy, beaming as I handed him the plastic dinosaur. I take a deep breath, sitting up in bed.You'll do a good job, I tell myself. That kid needs you. Brandon may be surrounded by wealth and luxury, things I never had as a child, but Mr. Armstrong is also clearly too busy to give him everything he needs.Just like I was, he's a kid in need of attention. I can fill that gap.I slide out of bed, putting on slippers as I shuffle to the bathroom to wash my face and get ready for the day. It's almost

12

CarolinaI follow the directions on the sheet Evans provided for me. I make sure he finishes his breakfast, then shuttle him to pre-K, which is at a daycare a few blocks away. I try to chit chat with him as we head over, but he doesn't say a word to me the entire time.When he gets back from pre-K, the situation is no better. I was hoping that seeing other kids might perk him up, but he's as subdued as he was this morning.I feel like an absolute failure. It's my first day, and I don't think I've gotten Brandon to say more than two sentences to me. What on earth am I doing wrong? This was so much easier the last time I saw him.Laura shows up in the afternoon to straighten things up, and greets me with a nod. She's not live-in, but Mr. Armstrong told me that she'll be by often to make sure everything's tidy. While she cleans, I try to play with Brandon in the living room, but he doesn't seem interested in any of the toys or games I pull out in my attempts to entice him.By five o'cloc

13

CarolinaAs I tuck Brandon into bed, he insists on laying the dinosaur on the pillow beside him."He likes to sleep next to me," Brandon tells me, talkative now that the crisis has passed. "Otherwise, he gets nightmares by himself. That was why I was worried about him, 'cause he doesn't like to be alone.""That makes sense," I say, nodding seriously. "You're a good friend to keep him company."The door opens partway, and some extra light spills into the room from the hall. I look up to see Mr. Armstrong standing in the entrance, a look of surprise on his face, like he wasn't expecting to interrupt a conversation between me and Brandon."You just about ready for bed?" Mr. Armstrong says, stooping to plant a kiss on Brandon's forehead.Brandon hums in affirmation, and Mr. Armstrong smiles. Again, I see that soft look on his face, the one that's so drastically different from the grave expression he usually wears."Glad to hear it. Sleep tight, Brandon." Mr. Armstrong gives me a nod, then

14

EvansWhen I get to my office, I set the half-finished glass of whiskey on the desk and collapse into one of the armchairs in the sitting area, rubbing my forehead.I have another handle of this scotch on the bar cart in the corner of the room, which is good—I'm definitely going to need it after that conversation, if it could even be considered that.I'm unsettled, even after all this time, by the mention of Serena. I'm sure that Carolina learned some of the details of the situation from her brother—I mentioned it to Noah when we first met, so it's not altogether surprising.And besides, it's not like I planned to keep it from her. If she's going to be the kid's guardian, she deserves to know things like this. Still, her mentioning it threw me off balance.The way she looked at me, her eyes luminous and sincere, threw me off balance.Earlier today, when Brandon was closed-off and shy, I was starting to think that maybe this wouldn't work after all. The thought filled me with conflicti

15

CarolBrandon and I play Twister for another fifteen minutes or so, long enough for me to almost pull at least five muscles. I forgot what it was like to play Twister; maybe I should've stretched beforehand, or something.Brandon, of course, has the carefree elasticity of a little kid. I don't think he could hurt himself playing this game if he tried. He beats me handily, laughing his head off the entire time.Eventually, after another humiliating defeat that twists my body into a pretzel, I hold up a hand and say, "Uh oh, check it out—it's getting real dark outside."Brandon pauses in his laughter and glances toward the large windows, at the quiet street outside. Night has fallen, and the streetlamp on the sidewalk immediately outside of the Armstrong household has turned on."Aw," Brandon says, sounding disappointed."Time for bed, kiddo. Come on, you don't want to be tired tomorrow, do you?"Reluctantly, Brandon helps me fold up the Twister mat and pack away the cardboard spinners

16

CarolThe next morning, I wake up before my alarm. Immediately, I'm hit with a wave of embarrassment, my stomach churning before I even sit up.I could hardly sleep last night. The image of Mr. Armstrong standing there, holding his massive cock, staring at me with what I can only describe as lust.I can't believe I did that.It was hot as hell watching him, but I don't even get the luxury of focusing on that, because mostly, I'm just ashamed. I can't believe I did that.What was I thinking?I spent the entire night lying awake in bed, realizing, over and over again, what Mr. Armstrong probably meant. He was embarrassed, of course, and he was telling me, unequivocally, to leave.He wanted me to get out. And instead, I stayed.God, I am so fired.I pull myself out of bed and get dressed slowly, still kicking myself. I head into the bathroom to wash my face, staring at myself in the mirror for a long moment.The last thing I want to do is go downstairs, but I have to. It's Friday. Brando

17

CarolFor the next few days after our run-in in the bedroom, Mr. Armstrong and I do our best to avoid each other.I hate feeling like I'm on eggshells around him—after all, I live and work in his house. It's impossible to stay away from him completely. Eventually, for this to work out, we're probably going to have to get past this awkwardness.In order to distract myself from the tension, I do my best to focus on my job. I spend as much time as possible with Brandon, playing games or going down the street to get cupcakes at his favorite cafe.In that time, there are plenty of opportunities for me to get to know Brandon better as an individual.He's a chatty kid, but most of the time, he talks about his toys and games. He never mentions his mom—or his dad, who I realize I know nothing about at all.I find myself wondering how old he was when he came to live with Evans. Does he remember his mother at all?Mr. Armstrong shut down when I brought up Brandon's mother, so I know better than

18

CarolAfter I ask Mr. Armstrong about my easel, things seem to thaw a little between us. At the very least, it isn't actively tense in this house.He's still aloof, and distant, and difficult to talk to, but he doesn't avoid me as much. In the mornings, when I get to the kitchen and run into him, he'll make small talk with me as he pours me a cup of coffee.Sometimes, we even have short conversations in the evening, after Brandon goes to bed. They're always light and surface-level, and I still haven't mustered up the courage to let my guard down around him and take him up on a drink.But it's nice. It's more relaxed. We're finally getting along.That's good. That's exactly what I want—to get along.I do my best not to think about the night I saw him jerking off. I try to pretend that the image of his cock in his hand never flashes through my mind. It's not quite working.Because now that things are easier between us, it's getting harder to keep my eyes off of him, and harder to mask m

19

CarolThat night, as I'm setting the table for dinner, Mr. Armstrong arrives home early.I'm almost startled as he comes through the door—usually he works late, coming home just in time to say goodnight to Brandon, or even later, when the boy is already fast asleep. He always stops in to see his nephew in the evenings, even if Brandon is passed out, but he's typically too busy to spend much time with us.But today, he's home at five. He comes into the kitchen, and Brandon runs up to him for a tackle hug."You saw my concert!" he exclaims shrilly—it's all he's been talking about since I picked him up from daycare. "Did you like it?""I loved it," Mr. Armstrong says, ruffling his hair. He looks up at me. "Is there enough food for one more? I could always order us some delivery, if need be.""There should be plenty," I say, surprised—pleasantly so. "We were just about to eat. Do you want to join us?"Tonight's dinner is fresh, pan-seared salmon and broccoli. Brandon is a somewhat picky e

20

CarolI stand at one of the large windows in Evans's house, in the lightly-used sunroom where I set up my easel, looking out at a beautiful sky. I'm thinking about painting it; the clouds are like strange wisps of satin, and I know they would be stunning rendered in watercolor.Before I can turn back to my easel, though, I feel arms wrapping around me from behind, strong and well-muscled. The touch is gentle, but it still spikes my heart rate. That's nothing, though, compared to the electric sensation of a kiss on my neck.A sudden, desperate feeling builds in my core. Desire. Need.His voice is in my ear. "What am I going to feel if I touch you?"I can't respond—I can only whimper. His hand slides down the side of my body, fingertips gliding over my tight-fitting shirt and finding their place between my legs."It's only fair," Evans whispers, his lips brushing my ear. "You saw me come. I want to feel you come."His fingers begin to set a rhythm against my clit, over my pants. The fab

PREV

...

NEXT

I-scan ang code para mabasa sa App

DMCA.com Protection Status