Naughty Empires
A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth.
“Well, well,” he drawled, voice low and mocking, water still pouring over him like he owned the rain itself. “So you’re the new nanny. Madonna, right?” He didn’t cover himself. Didn’t flinch. Just let me look while he looked right back, gaze dragging down my blouse, my skirt, my legs like he was already peeling me out of my clothes with his mind. “Peeking already? What do you want to see, Mommy?”
The word hit me like a slap—filthy, deliberate, laced with that rich-boy arrogance that made my stomach tighten and my nipples pebble against my bra. I took one stumbling step back, heart hammering.