Esa + Case | Romantic Erotica | Nanny Erotica | Pregnancy Romance

.ch 13 esa.

I can tell that something bad happened at work today. He won't even look my way when he comes home. Whatever. I roll my eyes and almost hope he sees. He made it home in time to give the kids a bath and put them to bed. He released me for the night.

Gee thanks. So now what? When I'm taking care of the kids I feel like I belong here. When I'm not... I don't.

I'm starving and I know I can't go to the kitchen again. I'm not risking cooking another meal. So I do exactly what I said I would. I order a pizza.

I make sure to tell them not to knock or ring the doorbell. I'll watch and come outside. I'm not risking them waking up the kids.

As soon as the smell hits my nose, my mouth is watering. I'm somewhat small, but I like to eat. And I plan to eat this whole thing by myself. Not that he'd want to share anyway.

Traipsing down the hall, I realize I can't eat a greasy pizza on these nice white sheets. I leave the box and go to the kitchen for some paper towels and a plate. When I walk back, I notice that my door is ajar. Why is he in my bedroom?

He's eating a piece of my fucking pizza. "Um, hi," I say with a wave like we haven't seen each other yet today.

"Thanks," he says, lifting the slice in the air. He grabs the box and says, "I'll be going."

I might think it's a joke, because it's my pizza that I ordered, sitting in my room. But he doesn't seem to be a joking type of man. "Woah," I put my hand on the box and stop him. "I ordered this for me."

His eyes look surprised for some reason. "Remember? Last night, I told you next time I was just going to order a pizza." I gesture over the box.

He smirks and puts the box in my hands, taking another slice in place of the one he's already finished.

The pizza box divides us and for a moment I'm thankful for it. I've read about smouldering looks, but he's actually giving me one. For the first time, he looks nice and actually, I don't know, soft? If a man with a body like his can look soft.

In a voice that's nearly a whisper he says, "pepperoni and green pepper on thin crust? That's my favorite. And don't worry, you can use the kitchen when you want to." His hand reaches out and his thumb actually brushes over my lips. It tastes salty from the pizza and masculine from him.

I bite my lip as he pulls it away. Taking another bite of pizza he walks out the door leaving me holding the box. What in the actual fuck?