I groan when the first splash of coffee hits my tongue. I need it because I’ve been up all night trying to will away the world’s most persistent hard-on.

Thanks to Willa fucking Grant.

I could hear the rustling of her blankets in the room next to mine and wondered what she was doing. Tossing and turning? Sliding a dainty hand between those pretty thighs?

Thinking of me?

And I refused to relieve myself. I wrapped my palm around my thick shaft and gave it one firm tug while I laid there. Then I stopped. Because blowing my load while thinking of the twenty-something nanny sleeping on the other side of the wall just felt fucking gross. Daring her to sit on the edge of the hot tub, when we both knew why, was bad enough.

God. What was I thinking?

I lean back against the kitchen counter and swipe my hand over my mouth. Out of control, that’s what I am.

It’s like I didn’t break enough rules when I was younger—I was too busy being serious—and now that streak is cropping up on me.

It’s perfectly natural. Willa is a smoke show. She’d make a priest crumble. And I’m no man of the cloth.

“Good morning.” She waltzes into the kitchen like I summoned her just by thinking of her. All wild copper hair piled on top of her head and fresh-faced, which is making her look awfully young.

But when my eyes drop to her chest, all warning thoughts of her being too young grow wings and fly right the fuck out of my head. Her perky tits are teasing me through a soft, white cotton concert tee.

I couldn’t tell you which band it’s for, because all I can see is outlines of those goddamn nipple piercings.

Taunting me. Reminding me how that pretty, pale purple swimsuit wedged itself between her pussy lips.

Jealousy of a bathing suit is a new feeling for me.

“Good morning,” I bite out, madder at myself than her. But I lash out all the same. “Are you averse to bras as well?”

Her laugh is airy as she rises on her tippy-toes to reach the top of the cupboard where I keep the coffee cups. My eyes are drawn to the way her calves flex, toned legs disappearing into a pair of baby blue short-shorts, her bare feet on my floor. There’s something intimate about having Willa in my space like this. And Luke isn’t even here to make a good reason for it.

“Here, I’ll grab that.” It only takes me one step to stand directly behind her and reach into the back of the cupboard. I guess I don’t normally go through mugs this quickly when I’m the only one using them.