Falling for the Babysitter Read online

  I smile at him. “She’s a big fan of literature. She needs more books. I have a ton of them leftover from my childhood. I’d like to give them to her if that’s okay with you,” I say.

  He has the strangest look on his face. So serious. He looks overwhelmed. Intense. I wonder if he had a bad day at work.

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” he says.

  2

  Deacon

  Seeing Remy sitting there, holding my child so lovingly, wakes something up inside of me. I want her—no, I need her. I never once felt this way about my ex, Karen. It took weeks of dating before I was even attracted to her, if I was being honest. At the time I lived alone in a big house and I just wanted someone to share it with. Somehow I convinced myself it was her, even though I suspected she wasn’t the one. I mean, who offers to suck a guy’s dick an hour after they meet? That’s what she did on our first date. It never occurred to me until it was too late that she was like that with every man she was with.

  With Remy there was an instant connection when I saw her standing at the door. She has this inner light that radiates. The kind of smile that makes everyone else around her want to smile too. There’s something so innocent about her, and yet there’s no mistaking that she is all women. She brings out urges in me that I’ve never had before. I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before. I need to claim her. She has to be mine.

  I hadn’t noticed before, but after Sam said something, I’m starting to notice how she’s looking at me. I thought maybe there was a mutual spark there between us, but at first I thought it was just wishful thinking. Now I see that it’s more than just a friendly look between neighbors. When she was younger, I suspected she might’ve had a crush on me by the way she was always peeking over the hedges to watch me wash my car. But she was just a kid. I was younger then. I felt younger. After the divorce, things changed. Women look at me still, but when I look at them, I see Karen’s face. My ex-wife really did a number on me. She cheated. Slept with men I thought were friends. She went out every night and came home drunk in the early hours of the morning. Even when Bailey was colicky. I was at home with a sick baby, sometimes even winding up in the emergency room with our child while she was out having a good old time, not even bothering to answer my texts. Every time she came home she had a new excuse. Often saying her phone was dead, or she’d forgotten her phone in her car. This coming from a woman who never let it out of her sight. She forgot I knew her better than that. I knew she just couldn’t handle the pressure of motherhood, or the monogamy of marriage. I knew that before we got married, but somehow I’d convinced myself she could change.

  Even though I try not to be, I’m jaded. It’s hard to let those past indiscretions go, no matter how hard I try to be bigger than that. After the divorce, I was certain I didn’t want anything more than a casual hookup once in a while, but there’s something different about Remy. I need to know if there’s something there.

  “How did things go today?” I ask her.

  She places Bailey back in her playpen, then looks up at me with a smile that lights me up from head to toe. “Perfect. It took a little while, but I think she’s warmed up to me.”

  “Great,” I say. “The job is yours if you want it. Monday through Friday.”

  “I would love it.” The way she says it, making eye contact, and softening her voice, causes chills to slide up my arms.

  She starts to leave the room, sliding around me in the doorway, but I can’t let her leave. There’s this pull toward her that suffocates my good judgment. I should just let her go. Let this be nothing more than a babysitting job as it was intended.

  I put my hands on her shoulders. She doesn’t try to escape from my grip. Instead, she looks up at me, open and curious. The hallway is dark, casting a shadow over her face, but I can see every single one of her lashes and the glimmer in her eyes. I lean over and smell her hair. Lavender and citrus. Clean, fresh. There’s nothing tainted about her. Not like there had been with my ex who always smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and male cologne; a scent that belongs to bars and clubs. Remy is nothing like her. I don’t know how I can say that for sure, but it’s a feeling I have that won’t let go.

  She inhales loud enough for me to hear. The air seems electrified. I don’t know if she can feel it too, but it seems to crackle between us. There’s definitely something here. I know it for sure now.

  With the tips of my fingers, I push her long hair off her shoulder, exposing the milky skin of her long, slender neck. Her breath quivers and she leans into my hand.

  “I should go,” she whispers. Shit. I’ve done something wrong. I’ve gone too far. But she doesn’t try to walk away. Instead she says, “Before something happens.”

  “What could happen?” I ask, my voice a husky whisper to match hers.

  She moves closer to me, her lips wet and parting. I lean over to kiss her, but before our lips can touch, the front door shuts and Sam’s voice travels up the stairs. “Deacon, you home?”

  Sam’s past warnings come rushing back to me. He thinks Remy will break me like Karen did, but he’s wrong. There’s no telling Sam that, though. He warned me about Karen too and I hadn’t listened then either. When he learned that we’d separated, there was this smug, I-told-you-so air about him even though his words were consoling.

  He was always the favorite child. The one who had his shit together. The smart one. Everyone listens to Sam. Well, not this time. Not any time, really. Though he tries, I will not let him rule my life, become some lonely sad sack like he is. I can’t even remember the last time he went out on a date. He probably tried being controlling with them, too. I bet he would even order for them at a restaurant. That sounds like something he would do. I’m tired of it. I’m a grown man and I’ll make my own decisions.

  I want to hold Remy in my arms, but she jumps away from me when she hears his voice. She looks frazzled, like she’s just been snapped out of a dream, her eyes glossy, face flushed. I want to tell her it’s okay, and not to worry about what Sam thinks, but she moved away from me too quickly.

  “I need to go,” she says, a tremor in her voice, clearly upset. I grab her wrist, my cock hardening at the feel of her soft skin in my hand.

  “Your check,” I say, reaching into my pocket and handing it to her. She looks at my hard on. There’s no way she doesn’t see it. I don’t try to hide it this time. I don’t care if she knows how bad I want her.

  She takes the check from me, but avoids touching my hand again. “Thanks. Same time tomorrow?”

  “Yep,” I say.

  She rushes past Sam who’s coming up the stairs.

  Sam watches her leave. When the door closes behind her, he looks at me and says. “I still don’t trust her.”

  I shake my head. “I promise you I have no intention of getting into another train wreck of a relationship like I did with Karen,” I say, and I mean it. But I still don’t think Remy is anything like Karen, so my words are mostly truthful.

  I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, but I can’t sleep. So I get up and look out the window toward Remy’s house. My heart stops when I see her through a split in her curtains. The light is on. She’s wearing only a bra. I can’t see the rest of her, though. Holding my breath, I wait to see if she’ll take it off. Please take it off, I beg silently. She pulls her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head, exposing that long neck of hers again. Closing her eyes, she runs her hands over her body.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper to the window.

  Her hands slide over her breasts and my cock hardens at the sight of her. When her head tilts back, I know she’s enjoying the feel of her own skin, and I wonder if she’s thinking of me. She glances out her window, looking right at my room. My light is off so I know she can’t see me, but she’s looking. Is she hoping I’m watching? Is she hoping to see me too? Well, I’m watching, sexy girl, so give me a show. She knows her curtains are open. She knows someone might see her. Luckily, Sam’s room is on th
e other side of the house. She must know that, right? Did she come into my room? I picture her in here, looking through my things, rubbing herself against something that she thinks I might smell. Grinding against my pillow.

  Probably not, but the fantasy brings my body to life. I watch her touching, rubbing herself and I reach into my boxers, taking myself in my hand and start to rub. She turns her back to me. I can just see the swell of her hips but nothing below. From this angle it looks as though she’s not wearing panties. She reaches behind her back, unhooking her bra. It drops to the ground.

  I’m fully erect, my cock so hard it aches. I jerk it harder, resting my other hand on the windowsill to hold myself up. She’s doing something with her hand in front of her. Has it slipped between her legs? I don’t know, but again, I tell myself that’s what she’s doing. Beating faster, I’m almost there, my breath rushing from my lungs, balls tightening. It’s coming, that pressure, the buildup before the explosion. Stroking, stroking, until finally release.

  I lean against the edge of the window, trying to catch my breath. After cleaning up the mess, I watch her until she puts on her nightgown and the light goes off, then I flop back in bed and finally fall asleep.

  3

  Remy

  Last night while I was in my room I felt as though I were being watched. I don’t know if it was Deacon, but I hope it was. I made sure to stand exactly where I knew he’d be able to see me. If I’d have known for sure, I would’ve shown him more skin. But on the off chance I was facing Sam’s room, I didn’t want to come off vulgar. The curtains were just open enough to where it might’ve looked like they came apart by mistake, and I didn’t make it entirely obvious I was touching myself. Just hinted at it.

  The thought of being watched was so thrilling. I’ve never been that reckless before. It felt good.

  Unable to sleep well since Deacon moved back in next door, I go downstairs, sit at the kitchen, swirling cream and sugar into my coffee. I can’t stop thinking about him and how close we came to kissing. What more could’ve happened between us had Sam not walked in? Much more, I’m sure. We might’ve even gone for the gold, having wild, passionate sex right there in Sam’s house. He would’ve lost his mind had that happened. I can’t help but laugh when picturing his red face, blood pressure boiling over as he walked in on us, the scent of our lovemaking filling the air.

  I still can’t believe Deacon’s into me. All those years pining for him, picturing what it would be like to be with him, fantasizing about him falling in love with me. Then he moved away and I lost all hope. After he left I went on a few dates with boys my own age. I even liked one of them. His name was Trevor. He was tall with dirty blonde hair and light green eyes. He could’ve been Deacon at a younger age, they were so similar in looks. He liked me too and the relationship was going somewhere. He would climb the side of my house and sneak into my room nearly every night just to make out, never pushing me to go further than I wanted to. We talked about traveling to Europe after graduation, and he was exciting. Played lacrosse and rode dirt bikes. So different from me. I was a home body. I liked homework and reading and fantasizing about things most girls my age never really thought about, like having a family and settling down.

  I thought maybe an adventure was what I needed. How would I really know what I wanted from my future unless I got out and experienced other things?

  One night, at a party, Trevor and I almost went all the way. We were kissing, fondling each other. Our clothes were off. He lay on top of me, rubbing against me and it felt amazing. I was even excited to lose my virginity. At the time I thought that’s what made a girl a woman, and I really wanted to be a woman.

  But just as we were about to take our relationship to the next step, I thought about Deacon. In my head it was Deacon’s hands all over me, his lips kissing me, his body against mine. I felt so guilty because not once did I ever think about Trevor during that time. It wasn’t fair to him, to be thinking about another man while we were about to have sex for the first time. I stopped him from going any further and ended up breaking up with him the next day. The entire reason our relationship even existed in the first place was because he looked like Deacon. It was wrong. The whole thing was just messed up. That was a year ago and I’ve been single ever since.

  My mind wanders back to Deacon and last night. I think about the way he smelled my hair and moved it off my shoulders to expose my neck. Thinking about how he leaned in to kiss me, has me giddy.

  Ignoring the reality of Sam’s intrusion, I picture what could’ve been. Deacon’s and my lips touching, our tongues tangled passionately. Him lifting me off the ground, my legs wrapping around his waist while he carried me to his room and lay me on his bed.

  Kissing, touching, learning about each other’s bodies and the things we like. Until finally, he takes my virginity, coming inside of me, then falling into his arms. Breathless and weak, but content.

  There’s a loud thunk as the coffee carafe slams onto the tabletop. It startles me out of my daydream.

  “Cream?” my mom says.

  I look at her wide-eyed and a little afraid, as if she were reading my thoughts about Deacon creaming inside of me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Are you still using the cream?” she asks.

  Feeling flushed, I say, “Oh. No. Sorry,” and slide it across the table.

  She pours the cream in her coffee and sits back. “So how was the babysitting job?”

  I take a breath to calm myself down. “Fine. Cute kid. Easy to watch.”

  My voice sounds nervous. My words clipped. I hope she doesn’t notice or ask any more questions.

  She sips her coffee, reading the wet newspaper. “Good. Did he ask you to babysit again?”

  “Yeah. He offered me the job.”

  “Excellent,” she says without looking up from her paper. “Maybe now you can start helping out with the phone bill.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “No problem.”

  I head over to Deacon’s again. This time I bring a bag full of children’s books and vegetables from the garden.

  “Hi,” Deacon says, his face lighting up when he answers the door.

  I feel my own face mirroring his. How is it possible that he looks even better today than he did yesterday?

  “Hey, I brought some stuff for Bailey,” I say to him.

  “That’s so sweet of you.”

  He’s definitely looking at me differently today. There’s no doubt about it. Instead of looking away, his eyes skim my body. I can tell he’s trying not to be too obvious about it, but he’s not doing a very good job. Now I’m almost certain he saw me through my window last night. I want to ask him about it, see if he liked what he saw, but if he hadn’t really seen me, I’ll sound like a crazy person.

  He lets me in the house. Looking back at the driveway, I see Sam’s car isn’t here, and I feel much more comfortable going inside. It’s a good thing, because today I dressed a little sexier than I had before. Actually, today I’m dressed similar to what I was wearing yesterday, shorts and a loose tank top, but today I forwent the bra. My nipples are hard as rocks, the silky fabric of my tank top rubbing against them. Impossible not to see through my shirt. He definitely notices those because his eyes go straight to them each time he turns to look at me and I notice he keeps himself slightly turned to the side at all times so I can’t see the front of his pants.

  In the kitchen I wash the vegetables. Without realizing it, I’m holding a cucumber under the water, rinsing the excess dirt off in stroking motions. Deacon watches with mischievous smile spread across his face.

  “Oh my god,” I say, realizing when I finally figure out the mystery behind his smile.

  “No, please continue,” he says through a laugh. “I’m curious about your technique.”

  I can’t help but laugh too and flick water at him. He ducks and keeps laughing. He comes up behind me to escape any other water splatter, and when he does, he touches my shoulders. It sends a shive
r throughout my entire body. The chemistry between us is unmistakable. Electricity sizzles in the air and makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. My pussy aches each time his skin touches mine, even though he’s not touching me in any kind of sexual way. That’s never happened to me with the boys I’ve dated.

  His fingers tickle down my arms. I inhale a sharp breath and I hear him let out a sound deep in his throat before pressing his body against mine, pinning me to the counter. I can feel his hard on against the cleft of my butt. I lean back and press against him. He groans and presses harder.

  Before things can go too far—I want things to go too far—Bailey starts crying. Deacon sighs and backs away. I feel his presence still with me, still touching me even after he walks away, like a ghost of him still remains.

  He clears his throat. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry. That was totally inappropriate. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable,” he says.

  I turn to him. “No,” I say desperately. “Nothing you could do would ever make me feel uncomfortable.”

  His cheeks blush, and a smile quirks the side of his mouth. “I should go check on Bailey.”

  She’s really crying now, an angry, demanding sound.

  I swallow and shake off this heavy, lust-filled feeling. Maybe it’s for the best we were interrupted. It’s not like we could just strip right here and do it on his brother’s countertop.

  I look around.

  Or could we?

  No. Definitely not. Sam could come home at any moment and we would be caught. I don’t want to give Sam a reason to hate me anymore than he already does.

  We go upstairs to the office to Bailey’s playpen. She’s standing up, reaching for her dad when she sees him. It’s the most adorable thing in the world. Definitely a daddy’s girl. And he’s so good with her. There’s just something so sexy about a man holding his child.