Oh God. Tilly couldn’t take her eyes off the billionaire as he licked his fingers clean, and she could only whimper as one last spurt of creamy moisture streamed out to line her still-sensitive folds.
“Wait here,” Logan murmured. After cleaning himself and zipping his pants close, he opened a pack of wet tissues to clean her. She was resistant at first, her reddened cheeks betraying her shyness and discomfort, and the billionaire’s gaze glinted in warning. “Keep still.”
And she did.
Tilly trembled the entire time the billionaire took care of her, and throughout it her cheeks just kept getting hotter and hotter. Fingers curled around her wrist when he was finally done, and she let him help her up to a sitting position without meeting his gaze. She could feel him watching her as she lowered her head, and she made a show of smoothing her dress back down her legs while trying to sort out her jumbled thoughts.
Logan was doing his best not to overthink as he waited for Tilly to get over her embarrassment. Never mind if his entire life he had always been a strategic planner, the type that always focused on playing the long game and was twenty moves ahead in every situation –
It just wouldn’t work this time. Not a fucking chance. The most important reason his plans had always worked in the past was because he knew exactly what he wanted.
And that was not the case at all with the mail-order bride he had bought.
Logan was privately relieved when Tilly was the first one to break the ice, and he willingly set aside all his concerns as he focused on her. She still looked faintly troubled, and Logan couldn’t help tensing. Was she still thinking of a divorce, dammit? Or maybe she would insist on her ridiculous idea of being just the nanny? Or possibly—
“Do you think people would be able to tell I don’t have any undies once I walk out of your office?”
Stick to the timeline. You’re still the nanny. I’m still the boss. Or at least that had been the plan. But then he saw the way his male executives were staring at Tilly like she was the pièce de résistance of a ten-course meal, and Logan thought, Fuck the timeline.
Since the billionaire had made no efforts to silence Tilly’s cries of pleasure earlier, and Tilly herself hadn’t been the type of lover to just lie back and think of England, he had no doubt that every employee working on his floor knew what took place the moment the door to his office closed behind Tilly.
That such a thing happened in the first place had probably come as a shock, considering Logan’s rather notorious rule about not letting any of his former mistresses step foot inside any of his company offices. It was fairly easy to see that his employees were itching to find out what made Tilly different, and it was just as obvious that they were wondering if the very nature of her employment had anything to do with Tilly being the exception to the rule.
Was she the nanny before she became the boss’ lover, or was it the other way around?
What did the billionaire see in her that they didn’t – or was she simply that good in bed?
How long was the billionaire likely to keep her – and might they have a shot once she was single again?
Logan’s entire vision was fast turning a murderous shade of red. Over my fucking dead body, assholes.
Tilly almost lost her footing when the billionaire suddenly slipped a possessive arm around her waist as they headed down the elevator at the end of the hallway.
Logan saw Tilly’s startled look and tried not to look defensive as he shrugged in response, saying offhandedly, “I didn’t want anyone to notice.”
Tilly blinked. “Notice what?”
“That you don’t have—”
Realizing what he was about to say, Tilly simply acted without thinking, nearly stumbling in her haste to tiptoe and cup her hand over his mouth. Oh my God, what was he thinking, declaring the state of her underwear (or lack thereof) out loud like that?
Her horrified gaze flew up to his, and that was when she saw the sexy little smirk playing on the blatantly sensual lines of his lips.
Tilly choked back a laugh, realizing he had been pulling her leg.
“You jer—” And then she remembered where they were, and she hastily backtracked. “You just say, um, the most embarrassingly sweet words, Mr. Hardwall.”
Amused approval gleamed in his eyes even as he reached to gently pull her hand down. “Interestingly enough,” the billionaire drawled, “an embarrassment is also what you might be suffering from if this isn’t remedied.” His other hand lazily drifted over her back as he spoke, settling down a moment later just a few inches over the hem of her dress. The hem, which had sneakily crept up when she tiptoed and was now dangerously close to flashing her butt in front of the dozens of executives making up Hardwall Industries’ highest management tier.