Twenty-One: Harlow

TWENTY-ONE

HARLOW

T he remaining weekend hours slipped by far too fast. No matter how hard I tried to hold onto my seconds of freedom, they ticked by without any regard for my wishes.

No matter how hard I tried to think about something other than Mr. Dawson controlling my body with his fingers, my mind insisted on incessantly replaying that moment.

The way he held me as I came down, used his handkerchief to clean me and kissed my neck while whispering.

I still felt the lingering passion under his touches, the primal urge to want to take things further without the pain of restraint. His willingness to cross the line with me without worrying about the consequences.

Maybe he saw me as more than his nanny.

Maybe he was waiting for me to confirm that we could be more.

If he was willing to take the first step, I could take the second.

The morning I returned to Park Towers, I ironed Olivia’s school shirts and set out the twins’ outfits for the week.

Then I headed to Mr. Dawson’s bedroom.

Without knocking, I pushed his door open.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing a towel around his waist.

He stared at me, his lips parting, and I sucked in a breath.

Silence hung heavy between us, waiting for someone to shatter it.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” I made the move.

He didn’t answer.

“The children are sleeping, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good to know.” He motioned for me to come closer. “What do you need?”

“It’s about the other night at the club,” I said. “What happened between us.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Hawthorne. I haven’t been to a nightclub in over a year.”

“Okay, it was technically a ‘lounge,’ but that’s not the point. I just wanted to know if it meant something.”

“Again, I have no idea what you’re saying,” he said. “Last I checked, you were at some developmental children’s conference, studying boundaries.”

“No, I was having an orgasm while your fingers were sliding under my dress.”

“They were buried deep in your pussy and you were moaning my name.”

“So, you do remember?”

“No.” He stood and moved closer, tilting my chin up with his fingertips. “I’m glad you came in here and brought this up, because I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“You have?”

“Yes.” His eyes locked on mine. “I wanted to apologize for my terrible, temporary lapse in judgement.”

“What?”

“I can assure you, Miss Hawthorne,” he said, his voice firm, “that something like that will never happen between us again.”

“That’s all it was to you? A lapse ?”

“You know I’m not a fan of repeating myself.”

“You wanted to fuck me,” I said. “You wanted me to come with you and ride your cock like I rode your hand. I know that’s what you were thinking.”

“Should I tell the hiring agency to add ‘psychic’ to your list of qualifications?” he asked. “Your next family might appreciate that.”

I hate you...

“I’ll take your silence as a yes, so I’ll remember that,” he said. “Nonetheless, you’re just a nanny to me, Miss Hawthorne. That’s it.”

I shook my head, stunned at his coldness.

“Anything else?” he asked. “I was getting ready for bed when you came in here unannounced.”

“Yes, I do have something else.” I crossed my arms. “When do you plan to spend some extensive quality time with your children?”

“When I’m not working.”

“And when will that be?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“For what it’s worth,” I said, wanting to sting him like he’d stung me, “your children are currently on track to hate you even more than I do. Unlike me, you won’t be able to pay them to stick around.”

He arched his brow. “You’re only here because you’re getting paid?”

“Forget one of my paychecks and see.”

Silence.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Miss Hawthorne.”

“I agree, Mr. Dawson. ” I stepped back. “Thanks for making our boundaries so much clearer.”

“You’re welcome.”

I walked away, feeling an ache in my chest, but it’s what I deserved.

He didn’t want me as I’d thought, and it was all in my head.

If he saw me as a “lapse of judgement,” as a nanny and nothing more, I was determined to fulfill the rest of my term by avoiding him at all costs.

By becoming the best fucking ‘just a nanny’ ever.