I never expected it would take me this long to get a job as a kindergarten teacher. I earned an early childhood education degree from the best college in the state, after all, and I skip-hopped giddily into the work pool with a fistful of glowing recommendation letters from my professors. But after more than three years of searching, I still haven’t been able to land my dream job. So when the Kingstons offered me the chance to care for Callie, I couldn’t afford to turn it down. Quite frankly, it was a major step up from whipping up cappuccinos for minimum wage at the local coffee shop.
And let’s just be real for a second—my body type is not suited for standard-issue coffee shop employee attire. My little butt looked like a friggin’ pancake in those ill-fitted uniform khakis.
I rise from the edge of the bed. “Good night,” I mouth, even though Callie’s already fast asleep.
My eyes fall on the homemade card her father sent her a few months ago at Christmas. I’ve read the card a dozen times. Still, I pick up the plain white copy paper again and peek inside at the stick-figure drawing of Santa Claus and a sorry-looking gang of reindeer.
I grin to myself.
Eli Kingston is severely lacking in his artistic skills, but—birthdays, Christmas, Easter—he never lets those special days go by without letting his little girl know that he’s thinking about her.
It’s sweet. It’s sad, but sweet.
Poor Callie has been through so much. Having her dad incarcerated before she even learned to speak in complete sentences. Having her mother abandon her and run out of town, leaving her practically an orphan. Thank heavens Eli’s parents were willing to step up and arrange for temporary custody of the little girl because I don’t want to think about what might have happened to her otherwise.
I can imagine that Callie is going to have lots of questions about her parents as she gets older. But for now, I’m not even sure she understands what’s going on. I guess that’s been Mr. and Mrs. Kingston’s goal all along. Protecting their granddaughter from the harsh realities of life, preserving her innocence.
And as her nanny, I’m committed to protecting her little world, too. Reading her bedtime stories. Letting her dress up in my lipstick and high heels. Playing make-believe.
Allowing her to be a kid.
Nannying may not be the career I planned in college, and this may not be the kind of family Callie expected, but we’re going to make the best of it. Together.
I set the card back down, right next to Eli’s handsome picture on the night stand. I flick off the lamp then tiptoe out of the little girl’s bedroom. I’m officially off the clock. I can hear the faint chatter of the night receptionist coming from the lobby of the Kingston Family bed and breakfast. But this side of the building—the family’s private residence tucked away from the inn’s guests—is silent at this time of night.
I duck into the kitchen for a quick nighttime snack. Then, I move down the hallway, making sure to be quiet in case Mr. and Mrs. Kingston are already asleep. I step into my bedroom.
I lock the door.
My own nightly bedtime routine isn’t exactly kid-friendly.
I already feel tingles low in my belly as I light the scented candles on my nightstand instead of flipping on the overhead bulb. Chewing on my lip, I power down my phone and pull open my top dresser drawer. I rummage past my panties and socks until I find what I’m looking for.
Gripping the stack of envelopes, I climb into bed. My pulse thumps a tiny bit faster, just like it does every time I re-read these letters I’ve received from my penpal over the past few months. His handsome face is taking shape in my head again as I flip through my collection of sexy mail.
I like to think of these letters as my own grown-up bedtime stories. My hero may be naughty as hell but he always makes sure I get my happy ending.
I can’t help but believe that if it wasn’t for this man’s misfortunate situation, he could very well be my own Prince Charming.
I pluck one dog-eared envelope from the pile. Mmm. This one is my favorite. I pull out the folded up sheets of paper. It’s the same copy paper used to make Callie’s homemade cards and that makes me smile.
Snuggling down under my blankets, I begin my voyage into the tantalizing world my penpal has created with his dirty words. A private world for just him and me. Excitement makes my heart race as my eyes flicker across the intimate confessions scrawled in ink on the paper in uneven lines.
I need his words.
I’ve never even seen this man face-to-face and he’s never seen me, but his words have ruined me for life.
“I wish you were here. I think about what I’d do to you if I woke up with you locked in this cell with me. You’d probably stop writing to me if you knew what was in my head…If you knew what I want to do to you…”
Licking my lips, I take a shaky breath and slide my polished fingers under the waistband of my sleep shorts.
“I’d take each of your wrists and tie them to the metal bars of my jail cell. Then, I’d strip you bare. I’d stop and take a minute to appreciate your body. Your curves, your lips, the goosebumps on your skin.”
My fingers travel lower. The space at the juncture of my thighs is already wet. The plain scrap of cotton is slick under my fingertips. I nudge the fabric aside. My other hand is shaking as I make a concerted effort to hold the letter close to my face.
“I’d get so hard, listening to the sound of you whimpering. I want to hear you begging, like you can’t wait another second till I make you mine.”
My head drops back to the pillow.
