The Sexy One (One Love #1) by Lauren Blakely
A hot and sweet forbidden romance from #1 New York Times Bestselling Author Lauren Blakely…
Let me count the ways why falling into forbidden love is not my wisest move…
1. She works with me every single day.
Did I mention she’s gorgeous, sweet, kind and smart?
2. She works in my home.
Playing with my five-year-old daughter. Teaching my little girl. Cooking for my princess. Which means…
3. She’s the nanny.
And that makes her completely off-limits…But it doesn’t stop me from wanting her. All of her.
The other nannies in this city don’t call him The Sexy One for nothing. My boss, the amazingly wonderful single father to the girl I take care of every day is ridiculously hot, like movie star levels with those arms, and those eyes, and that body. Not to mention, the way he dotes on his little girl melts me all over. But what really makes my knees weak are the times when his gaze lingers on me. In secret. When no one else is around.
I can’t risk my job for a chance at something more…can I? But I don’t know how to resist him much longer either…
With all the heat, heart and humor readers have come to expect, this newest Lauren Blakely standalone will make you laugh, swoon and feel like you’re falling in love!
Excerpt The Sexy One (One Love #1) by Lauren Blakely
This man can kiss. His lips taste so good as he kisses me with a tenderness and a hunger that’s entirely new in my experience.
This kiss vibrates and spreads through my entire body, as if I’ve been shot full of liquid beauty, like gold and silver flow through my veins. He slides his tongue across mine, and I want to grab him, straddle him, and just kiss the daylights out of him, even in this crazy, dangerous cab.
I hardly care that our first kiss isn’t on a moonlit balcony or under the stars. This kiss was inevitable, especially after the last few nights, all these days, and then this afternoon. All our moments have been marching to this as Simon kisses me with such reverence that I want to melt into him. I rope my fingers through his soft hair, and I truly can’t believe I’m making out with Simon Travers in the back of a cab after we watched a documentary on zebras.
I wish I could say that alarms sound, telling me how risky it is to kiss the man I work for. But all I hear is the rapid beat of my heart, leading me closer to him.
Simon runs his thumb along my cheek, and that soft touch makes me tremble. Somehow I wriggle closer, my breasts pressed to his firm chest. He groans. It’s carnal and masculine, almost like a warning. But neither one of us heeds it. We simply can’t stop. We’rethose people. The kind who go crazy in public. I feel insane right now. Crazy and wild and reckless.
His hands are on my face, then my hair, and then the back of my head. He is all heat and passion. The way his lips sweep over mine, the way his tongue explores my mouth, and most of all, the way he holds me—it all makes me want to grab those strong shoulders of his and slam him down on top of my body. I want to feel him slide my wrists over my head, pin them, and then smother me in kisses everywhere. I want to let go beneath his mouth, arch into him, urge him to explore my body the way he seems to want to.
The car jerks to a stop.
Abruptly, we separate, but only slightly.
He blinks and breathes out hard as he glances around. We’re all the way in Columbus Circle. Holy shit. We kissed for blocks upon blocks.
My lips miss his. I thread my hand into his hair. “We shouldn’t do this,” I say, though it hardly sounds like a protest as his hair falls through my fingers.
His eyes float closed, and his mouth is open, his breath coming in harsh pants. “We definitely shouldn’t do this,” he says, his voice low and smoky as he sighs deeply at my touch.
“You’re my boss,” I say, pointing out the obvious.
Whatever he was going to say next is cut off when he brushes his lips against my forehead, then over my face, dusting my cheek, my eyelids, my jawline.
My skin sizzles. My stomach flips. I want to live inside this kiss. “Don’t stop,” I murmur as his lips mark me.
He travels to my neck, and I tilt my head to the side. He layers kisses all along the column of my throat, the delicious mix of his rough stubble and his soft lips sending sparks to my very core. My body is hungry, eager for him, and I’m going to need a new word for want because what I feel for Simon is so much more than that.
It’s yearning. It’s non-negotiable. I have to have him.
“I don’t know that I can stop with you, Abby,” he whispers, and my name falling from his lips is exquisite and sensual.
In it, I hear his complete and utter need for me, and it’s thrilling—because it matches my heart. It matches my body, too.