JENNIE

"Tell me more about growing up with five siblings," I said once we were heading east on the interstate out of Illinois. I wanted to know more about her, and family seemed like her first priority.

"We were close, when we didn't want to kill each other."

"Did you share bedrooms?" I asked, remembering how quiet the house was growing up an only child.

She nodded. "Taeyong and I shared, Jiming and Yedam shared. Ryujin was the princess who had her own room."

"She grew up with four older siblings," I said with a laugh. "She needed space. But she doesn't strike me as the princess type."

"I guess she wasn't, not in the spoiled brat sense of the word. And she wasn't super girly. She was more of a tomboy if anything. She was always trying to keep up with us."

"So other than you and Taeyong, did all of you get along?"

"Yeah. And I think Taeyong and I only fought so much because we're closest in age, and both of us were competitive. He had sports as an outlet, but I didn't have time for sports in high school. I always worked."

Sympathy squeezed my heart—she really had been forced to grow up fast. "What's Jimin like?"

"Now? I'd say he's driven. Successful. Focused. As a kid, he was a handful, but he quit being so rebellious once he got to high school. He wanted a college degree and knew he'd need decent grades."

"So he was a good student?"

"He was definitely the best student of the boys. But he was motivated—he wanted to run his own business, make a lot of money, drive a nice car, all that."

"And does he?"

"He's on his way," Lisa said, a touch of pride in her voice. "He works his ass off. An office job would not be for me, but he seems to love corporate life."

"And he's how old?"

"He's twenty-eight. Lives in Boston."

"What about Yedam?"

"Yedam is twenty-six. He was wild as a kid, tons of energy, always breaking the rules. But he was always such a ham, he got out of trouble pretty easily. He could sweet talk anyone."

I smiled. "Did he always want to be an actor?"

"Yeah. Have you seen Malibu Splash?"

"No," I admitted. "But the twins told me it's good."

Lisa laughed. "That's because they're the target audience. Sometimes I feel bad for Yedam because he wants to be a more serious actor, but he got popular on this show, and now he's kind of trapped by his contract. Other times, I see his photos online attending a party or premiere, and I think, you know what? That asshole's doing just fine."

I smiled. "Does he have a girlfriend?"

"Not that I know of. Yedam says dating is too hard in Hollywood. Everyone seems fake." She was silent a moment. "I'd never want to be famous."

"No?"

She shook her head. "Nah. I mean, the money would be nice, but it seems like it comes with some pretty big downsides. No privacy, no freedom to do normal things without people in your face, no way to know for sure who you can trust. And you always have to be on, you know? Fuck that."

"Yeah."

She glanced at me. "What about you? You've got all kinds of talent. Did you want to be famous?"

I laughed. "I have one kind of talent, and it's not really the kind that takes you to Hollywood, not these days anyway. I missed the golden age of the Hollywood musical by about eighty years. But I like the stage better than the camera, anyway."

"Yeah?"

"It feels more immediate, more exciting. I love a big audience, the applause, the energy in the air. Honestly, being a Rockette was my dream from a really early age. My mom cleaned for a wealthy family that gave her two tickets to see the Christmas show when I was young, and she scraped together train fare and took me—I had stars in my eyes from the moment the curtain went up. I knew what I wanted to do with my life."

She glanced at me. "Do you miss dancing?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Without dance, it's like a huge part of me is just dead—my soul or something. It's always been my escape, my passion, my happiest place."

"How old were you when you started?"

"Two. And it was pure luck that got me started. My mom took a job cleaning a local dance studio on Sundays when it was closed, and she had to bring me along. I used to spend hours twirling and jumping and dancing to music only I could hear in front of all those mirrors. One day, the studio owner was there doing paperwork or something, and she saw me and thought I had potential. She invited me to take a class for free, even though I wasn't even technically old enough."

"And you loved it?"

"More than anything." The childhood joy of arriving at the studio before class hit me all over again. "Growing up, I was never happier than when I was dancing. Not just because I got attention for it, although the attention was nice. But I was home alone a lot, and the studio was always so busy and noisy and welcoming. It was a second home. My teachers and friends were like family."

"I bet you were the best one there."

I laughed. "You know what? I was good, but I wasn't always the best. I just worked my ass off, and it was obvious I loved being there and wanted to learn. I was determined—eyes on the prize." I smiled at her. "What was your prize when you were young? Did you always want to run the family business?"

"Not really." She was silent a moment, eyes on the road. "I wanted to go to college to study architecture."

"Why didn't you?"

"My family needed me at home."

I waited for her to go on, but she didn't, and I realized that for Lisa, it was as simple as that—her family needed her, and she wasn't going to let them down. She'd set aside her own goals, stayed home, helped raise her siblings, and worked with her father. Then she watched every single one of her siblings leave the nest to chase their dreams. It made even more sense to me now that she'd insisted on raising the twins on her own rather than give them up. She'd never put her own needs or wants first.

It was honorable—and undeniably sexy—but it also had to result in a lot of pent-up frustration, didn't it? Did she ever feel angry? Did she ever resent being the one left behind? The one who never got to go after what she wanted? Even now, she refused to abandon the family business and treated her furniture business more like a passion project.

What about personal needs? She was an amazing daughter, father, and brother, but she was still a human. I glanced over at her beautiful profile, then let my gaze wander down her chest to the apex of her thighs. Memories from last night flooded my mind, and the flutter from my stomach moved between my legs.

I wanted her in my bed again tonight, but more than that, I wanted to do something for her that made her feel like the center of the universe. Like only her needs mattered.

She could have delivered that table this morning and had the rest of the day to spend in her workshop, doing what she loved. This was her first full day without the kids. Instead, she spent most of the day hauling me to Chicago just because she didn't want me to face my ex alone. And she'd stood up for me too. She would have taken a punch for me if Chan hadn't taken such a ridiculously slow and obvious swing.

I felt like she'd put me first. Besides my mom, had anyone else ever done that?

She hooked her left hand over her right shoulder and kneaded the muscle.

"Is that still bothering you?" I asked. "Here, let me." Shifting sideways on the seat, I reached over and began to massage her neck and shoulder. "God, you're so tight. We need to stretch you out."

"That sounds really fucking painful. I'm picturing a rack."

I giggled. "No torture devices. We'll do some yoga together."

"No. Fucking. Way."

"Why not? The kids love it."

"The kids have seven-year-old bodies. And besides, there's no way I could concentrate on stretching while you do those yoga poses. I almost lost my mind the first morning I saw you out in the backyard."

"Oh yeah? Were you watching me?" I asked coyly.

"I couldn't look away—I felt like the world's biggest pervert."

"It was just a few yoga poses."

"Not in my mind, it wasn't."

"Okay, then how about a real massage?"

"No, thanks. I don't like other people's hands all over my body."

"I meant from me, silly." I leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "Complete with happy ending."

She groaned. "You're making my pants tight."

"I can take care of that right now, if you want." I moved my hand to her crotch and stroked her through the denim. "With my hand, or with my mouth."

"Jesus Christ. You have to stop that or I won't be able to drive. And I'll have a hell of a time explaining to the state trooper behind us why I'm all over the road."

"That's fine. You can save it all up for me until we get home." I leaned close again, tugging at her earlobe with my teeth. "I'll be very thirsty by then."

Her jaw clenched. "Fuck."

"And Lisa—we should probably stop and get some more condoms. A giant box of them."

Despite the state trooper behind us, she pushed a little harder on the gas.

We didn't get home until almost eleven. As we pulled into the driveway, Lisa said she wanted to call the kids really quick.

"That's fine," I said. "I'd like to take a shower anyway."

"I'm going to grab one too. I'll leave the back door open. Come over when you're ready?"

"You want me to come to the house?" I asked, surprised.

"Is that okay?"

"Yes, I just . . ." I struggled to explain why it felt like a big deal. "The house is like your family space. I don't want to intrude on it."

She cocked her head. "Jennie, for the past six hours, all I've done is think about all the ways I'm going to intrude on your body. For fuck's sake, you can spend the night in my room."

I laughed. "Okay, I'll be over in a few."

Up in my apartment, I jumped in the shower, delighting in the butterflies in my belly. I couldn't remember the last time I felt them. When I got out, I rubbed my vanilla body lotion all over my skin, remembering how Lisa had liked the way it smelled on me. Feeling naughty, I skipped panties, but tugged the white T-shirt over my head and pulled out my ponytail, fluffing my hair. Pulse racing, I hurried down the stairs and across the yard.

As promised, the back door was open. The kitchen was dark and silent, and I locked the door behind me before heading upstairs.

In Lisa's bedroom, one lamp was on, and the bathroom door was closed. On the nightstand was the jumbo box of condoms we'd purchased on the way home, and just seeing it made my core muscles clench. I inhaled—the room smelled like her. Clean, like a new leather belt.

Behind me, the bathroom door opened, and I turned around. "Hi," I said, my heart beating like crazy, as if I hadn't just seen her fifteen minutes ago.

Plus, she was naked.

My breaths turned to pants as she came toward me, hair wet and messy, skin damp and slightly flushed, eyes dark and hungry. My gaze traveled over her broad chest, down her rippling abs, to the thick, heavy cock between her thighs.

I licked my lips. "How are the kids?"

"Fine. But I don't want to talk about the kids right now." She moved close enough to bury her face in my neck and slip her hands beneath my shirt. "Fuck, you smell good."

"Thanks."

Her hands moved over my butt. "You came here without panties on?"

"I didn't think they'd last long anyway." I shivered as her lips and tongue worked down my throat.

"You were right." She steered me backward toward the bed. "It's bad enough you're still wearing this shirt. You've been here at least thirty seconds."

"Take it off me. It belonged to Chan anyway, and—"

"What?" Her body immediately went tense. She picked up her head and stared at me, fury ablaze in her eyes.

"This T-shirt. It was Chan's, but I—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Lisa grabbed two fistfuls of cotton at my chest and fucking ripped it apart. She kept tearing until the shirt was split completely down the front, then she shoved it from my arms and threw it to the floor. It was as if the grizzly inked on her shoulder had taken control.

"Nothing of his will ever touch your skin again," she fumed.

I didn't know whether to be turned on or terrified at this display of possessive rage. But my heart was galloping like a racehorse, and my breath was coming in short, quick bursts. Between my legs, I felt the flutter of arousal, and my nipples were hard and tingling.

Turned on, it was.

"Fuck. I'm sorry." The cords in Lisa's neck tightened, and her eyes closed for a moment. "I keep losing my shit today. I don't know what it is. I just can't fucking stand the thought of him near you, not even his shirt."

I smiled coyly. "You'll have to give me one of your shirts to replace it."

"Deal." She kissed me ravenously, her tongue sliding between my lips. Her cock sprang to life between us, and I took it in one fist, wrapping my fingers around her, working my hand up and down the thickening shaft.

She slipped her hand between my legs. "You're already wet," she growled, her fingers easily gliding inside me.

"It's your body. It does something to me." Then I rose up on my toes to put my lips to her ear. "And now I'm going to do something to you." I dropped to my knees, enjoying the sharp intake of her breath as I wrapped her swelling cock with both hands. "Something I've been thinking about all day."

"All day, huh?" Her voice was low and thick with desire.

"Maybe even all week." I moved my fists up and down the hard length of her shaft, teased the soft, smooth tip with my tongue.

She groaned, he4 hands flexing into fists at her sides.

"Don't tell me you haven't." I slid one hand between her thighs, cradling her balls in my palm.

"Haven't what?"

I looked up at her coquettishly as I swirled my tongue around her crown. "Thought about this."

"Only every other minute since I met you."

I laughed and licked her root to tip, the skin hot and firm and ridged with veins. "Good." I circled the ridge at the top and pumped my hand up and down her length, gratified by her deep, tortured moan when my lips hovered, wet and open, over the sensitive head. I tipped my head up and met her eyes again. "But before I do this, I want to make something clear."

"I'll give you a warning."

"That's not what I meant." I stroked my lips with the tip like it was my lipstick, coating them with her salty taste. "I meant, I want it clear that you are not allowed to hold back."

.Her hands moved into my hair. "Jesus."

"I'm on my knees for you," I whispered. "I want to make you feel good. Tell me what to do."

An agonized growl rumbled from her chest. "I want your mouth on me."

"Come on, you can do better than that." I rubbed my lips up and down the underside of her erection. "Let me hear what you're really thinking."

"I want you to suck my cock."

I smiled and took just the tip in my mouth, gave her a few playful little tugs.

Her fists tightened in my hair. "I want to fuck your mouth so deep and hard, you choke when I come."

And then I couldn't talk anymore, because she was using her grip on my hair to hold my head steady while she pushed the full length of her cock between my lips, right up until the tip hit the back of my throat. She stopped there for a second, going completely still, so still I felt her thicken and pulse once inside my mouth. With an anguished groan, she began to rock her hips—slow, rhythmic thrusts that slid along my tongue, never quite withdrawing entirely, but always hitting the deepest reaches of my mouth. My eyes watered. My scalp stung. I struggled for breath, managing to grab a little air each time she pulled back.

But it was exactly what I wanted. There was a sense of power in knowing she was willing to let go with me, to say what she was thinking, to do what she wanted to do without hesitation. This was someone unused to putting her pleasure first.

I wanted to provide that pleasure, embody that pleasure. I wanted her to be selfish with me. Rough with me. Real with me.

She started to move faster and harder, her hips driving forward in deep, sharp jabs. Her fingers loosened in my hair and cradled my head, holding it in place. I could feel the orgasm building in both my hands—the one wrapped around the base of her cock and the one between her legs, every part of her growing harder as her body barreled toward release. I could taste her, and I moaned reflexively. My nipples were tingling, my core muscles tight. My thighs were trembling and slick with heat. I wanted her hands on me. I wanted to fuck her. I imagined how good it would feel to push her down to the floor and ride her until I came. I promised myself I would do it later.

Right now, it was all about her.

"Fuck—Jen—so good—"

I sucked harder, gripped her shaft tighter, and just for fun, slid the tip of one finger farther back between her legs, penetrating her just slightly, since I wasn't sure if she would like it.

A second later, I had my answer, because she lost control with one final thrust. Her body stopped moving, except for the throbbing pulse in my mouth, which coated the back of my throat in thick, hot bursts.

As soon as she recovered, she pulled back and I dropped my butt to my heels, gasping for breath.

"Christ. Are you okay?" Lisa let go of my hair and crouched down in front of me.

I nodded. "Yes. Just needed some air. You weren't kidding about that whole choking thing."

"I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't be. I asked for it, didn't I?"

She gave me a sexy grin. "You did. Now I get to ask you for some things."

"Like what?"

"Well." She slid one hand up my thigh. "How about you hop up on this bed and sit on my face so I can fuck you with my tongue?"

I smiled seductively. "I only want to please you."

"Then we're going to leave the light on too." Rising to her feet, she scooped me up off the rug and set me on the mattress.

"It's like you own the electric company," I teased.

"If it means I can watch you come, I'll fucking buy it."

A minute later, her head was between my thighs as I held onto the wooden headboard and slowly rocked my hips above her face. Her hands were on my breasts, her thumbs teasing the humming peaks of my nipples before she pinched them hard enough to make me gasp. But it was sublime, the sting from her fingers and the stroke of her tongue at the same time. She licked and sucked and kissed and tasted, teased and flicked and fluttered. She slipped her tongue inside me and swept it up the seam at my center in one long, glorious caress. She devoured me slowly, like I was a decadent dessert she was trying to make last all night. Sometimes she moaned like she couldn't get enough.

For a minute, I watched her, her dark eyes locked on mine. But eventually, I had to look away or I was going to finish too quickly. It was so hot, seeing her beneath me, hearing the sounds she made, feeling her jaw on my thighs. I'd actually never done this before—Chan was not the type to request that I sit anywhere near her face, nor was she particularly talented with her tongue or knowledgeable about female anatomy.

And sex with the lights on? Never. Which was fine with me, because being in the dark made it easier to pretend I was with someone different. Someone who actually cared about me. Someone who might hold me close afterward and tell me how good I'd made it feel or kiss my tattoo or punch a big jerk in the face for me. Someone who stood up for me instead of cutting me down.

And if her tongue happened to be a magic wand, well, lucky me.

"God, Lisa," I breathed, my hips undulating faster as the tension in my body wound tighter. "You're fucking incredible. That feels so good . . ." Then my words were gone and the stars collided and my body exploded in wild, rippling waves of bliss that made my legs tremble and my clit beat a rhythm on her tongue. I cried out with every single pulse as it moved through me.

When I could breathe again, I shimmied down her body and collapsed on her chest, babbling incoherently. "Oh my god. You're amazing. This job is amazing. If I'd known orgasms were a perk of being your nanny, I might have tried harder at the first interview. Or lied and said I could cook."

Laughter rumbled in her chest. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Actually, I really should learn how. Maybe I can do it while the kids are gone."

"Don't bother. Your pussy is my new favorite meal."

My lady parts experienced an aftershock. "Then you will be well-fed while they're away."

"Good." She put her arms around me and stroked my back, her fingers trailing up and down my spine.

I sighed contentedly, my eyes drifting closed, surprised at how comfortable and easy this felt. Wasn't this kind of intimacy supposed to take more time? It was hard to believe we were the same two people who'd met on her porch that day.

I picked up my head and looked down at her. "What did you think of me the day we met?"

"I thought you were missing a few marbles."

I laughed and swatted her chest. "Be serious."

"I am. Jennie, you knocked on my front door wearing a wedding dress."

"I know, but . . . did you at least think I was cute?"

She smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear. "I thought you were gorgeous. But that wasn't enough to make me want to hire you. In fact, that made your chances worse."

"Why?"

"Because the last thing I wanted to do was hire someone I was attracted to."

"You were attracted to me? That very first day?" I was giddy at the thought. "But you were so grouchy during the interview! You looked at me like I was a stain on the carpet."

"Because I didn't want you around all the time. I didn't trust myself."

I gave her a slow, sly grin. "Then I seduced you in the dark and it was all over."

"Actually, I think it was the yoga shorts the next day."

I laughed. "That's right. You were spying on me."

"I wasn't spying!" She flipped me onto my back and pinned my wrists to the mattress. "You were right there on my back lawn, and I happened to see you out the window. Was that a strategic move on your part?"

"No." I giggled. "Although now that I know you like my yoga clothes, maybe I'll walk around in them all the time."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare. I'll never get anything done."

"I might have to," I said seriously. "It's not like I have a lot of options in my closet."

She was silent a moment. "I'm sorry again about today."

"Don't be. Maybe getting new clothes is part of starting over."

"I still feel bad."

"I bet you can find a way to make it up to me."

She buried her face in my neck and inhaled. "Mmm. I'm thinking of several."

"How about shopping?"

"No." She kissed her way down my chest. "My ways don't involve clothing at all. But they do involve you screaming my name some more."

Against my leg, I felt her cock jumping to life again. "Already?"

"Listen, I already warned you that I don't plan on wasting any time," she said, circling my nipple with her tongue. "So am I still the boss this week even though the kids are gone and you're not technically the nanny?"

"Definitely." I wrapped my legs around her. "What can I do for you, Ma'am?"

"I have a list," she said.

I laughed as she tickled my ribs with her chin. "I bet you do."