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When I retrievedmy phone from the coat check, he’d sent me a text message.
Mr. Dawson
Regarding your question from earlier…
No, I don’t fuck ‘as good as I dance.’ I fuck a lot better…
TWENTY-ONE
HARLOW
The 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 morningI 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, youdoremember?”
