Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
More pleasure.
More reasons to moan, although with the way his mouth hasn’t stopped once for me to catch my breath that’s not really an issue.
Just as both sets of fingers fly to his hair to yank him closer – in spite of him not being able to physically be any closer – a familiar disapproving huff forces us to slightly retreat in order to face the unhappy onlooker. “Daddy, did you ask Nanny Joey could you share her space?!”
Ig’s red lipstick smeared mouth releases an airy laugh during his peeling away process. “Technically, Nanny Joey should’ve asked me could she share my space.”
Shock sends my jaw tumbling to the ground. “Technically, Daddy made the first move.”
“And he plans to make the second move too,” he practically purrs my direction before conversing with his daughter once more. “No, Bella. We did not use our words to talk about sharing spaces.” Ig lowers himself to a squatting position so that they’re closer to eye level upon her arrival. “But sometimes…when you’re a grown up…you learn to use more than just words to communicate.”
Her head tilts in question.
Okay.
He’s not wrong.
I just think now is the wrong time to try to explain body language and nonverbal cues to your tiny human.
“So, while I didn’t use my words to ask Nanny Joey, we still communicated that we were okay sharing spaces.”
“And lipstick.”
Swallowing my giggles is improbable, especially while watching him struggle to wipe it away on his poor Cheeto stained t-shirt.
Once he’s clean, her tiny face tips forward in a scolding fashion. “You keep hands and feet to self ‘til she no words say otay?”
The corner of his lip struggles not to curl upward. “Da.”
A long, contemplative hum precedes her slowly nodding. “Otay, Daddy. I want Nanny Joey to stay and share her space with us and she not do that if you don’t keep hands and feet to self when she not want them.”
“Or,” I purposely emphasize to summon his stare over his shoulder to me, “if you keep the truth from her again. Understood?”
There’s no disregarding the flash of somberness in his eyes. “Ponyal, moy prekrasnyy.”
“Precavenik means budaful!” Bella joyfully claps. “Dedu say that to Babu all the time!”
Redness slightly tints Igor’s cheeks during his muted agreement, “He does…”
“You think Nanny Joey is budaful!” She stretches her arms out to wordlessly request to be picked up, which he immediately does. “I think she’s budaful too!”
What feels like a million tiny Rudolph’s kicking up snow in my stomach prompts the desperate need to focus on something else.
Anything else that isn’t snickerdoodle sweet.
“I think Daddy looks beautiful in his garland,” I playfully tease with a finger point to the accessory. “Should we maybe take it off of him though and wrap it around the stair railing?”
“Da!” Bella squeals while bouncing in his arms. “Let’s decorate more!”
After Igor adjusts her with one hand, he offers me the open palm of the other. “Shall we, Nanny Joey?”
Yes, we shall.
And I don’t just mean hanging up tinsel for the holiday or avoiding cleaning the Cheetos off the ground.
We owe it to ourselves to see what else is between us, and what is actually possible now that all the cookies are on the table.
It won’t be easy, especially considering the boundaries we’ll have to set for interacting with Bella and me still doing my job as her caregiver, but who knows.
Maybe it’ll be something magical.
Or spectacular.
Or life changing.
At the very least, I don’t think it can be any worse than the last relationship my mind erased.
I mean…right?
Chapter 15
Igor
There are mostly cons to having your, can’t keep his jock strapped down, alternate captain staying in the room directly across the hall from you.
The biggest?
Hearing his ass stumble back to the hotel with whatever puck bunny – or bunnies – that wanna touch his stick for the night.
The second?
Hearing the aforementioned rockets leave on begging requests that he texts them again in the future.
And the third?
Having to deal with him doing his best to convince me postgame to join him on his Fifty Shades of Snow bullshit.
I’m not interested in fucking one offs.
That’s what got my ass in trouble in the first place.
And I’m damn sure not interested in fucking them now that Santa gave me a wet dream snipe to meet under the mistletoe every fucking night as an early Christmas present.
Pretty sure pretending she was my daughter’s nanny should’ve landed me permanently on the naughty list, but what can I say?
Christmas miracles really do happen.
Even before it’s officially December.
“You sure you don’t wanna hit the pubs with me and the boys?” Snowman pulls his hotel keycard out of his pocket. “There is no better way to celly a dub in Canada than with poutine and pussy especially when you’re a free agent, bud.”
My head tilts an inch to one side. “Becks?”