Page 128 of The Au Pair Affair

Burgess saw movement in the building and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out Tallulah’s silhouette behind the glass. There. Books pressed to her chest, that soft strut, like she was walking a personal runway, hair in a side braid that draped over her left shoulder. There was his Tallulah. He’d know her shape blindfolded. It fit against him perfectly. Those inner thighs never failed to lock into the grooves of his sides, allowing him entrance to her body with a sharp scoop of his hips, their mouths stifling breathless moans first thing in the morning, the friction of their skin, harsh breathing, and low creak of the mattress springs his favorite sounds, easily replacing the slap of a puck.

Christ, this morning had been hot as hell.

Intense.

She’d ended up on top, tits raking up and down his sweaty chest, finishing with a muffled scream into his neck.

Great, now his pulse was out of whack.

And when she fully emerged from the building and spotted him, her face lighting up with a grin, his heart only beat faster.

Damn, he loved this woman.

Damn.

“Turn off the recorder and open your camera,” Burgess advised Irving in a rasp.

The reporter fumbled his phone slightly. “Why?”

“Trust me.”

And that’s how Burgess ended up on the front page of theGlobethe following morning, down on one knee in front of Tallulah with an open ring box in his hand, under the headline “Sir Taken.”