It’s not.
It feels like loss.
“Debriefs in common areas only,” she continues. “Kitchen, mudroom, your office. Not bedrooms. Not your primary suite. And they end by nine p.m. unless it’s urgent. Otherwise we use a day log or text.”
“Sensible,” Elena murmurs, making a note.
I watch Jess’s fingers on her pen. She’s gripping it too tight. White knuckles. When she shifts in her seat, the blazer pulls across her chest, highlighting those succulent breasts of hers, and I have to drag my eyes back to her face. She’s trying so hard to be professional and yet all I can think about is peeling that blazer off her shoulders. Watching those curves spill free. The weight of her breasts in my hands. How her nipples peak when I suck them. How she whimpers and arches into my mouth begging for more.
Jesus Christ. Focus.
“No fraternization during employment,” Jess says, and her voice hitches just slightly on the word fraternization.
There it is.
The line in the sand.
No touching. No repeats. No nights where I forget I’m supposed to be grieving my wife.
“Agreed,” I say again. The word tastes like ash. But again, it’s already in our version of the contract. So why does it feel like a blow?
“Ninety day post term buffer if employment ends.” So even if she quits, I can’t touch her for ninety days? That seems... harsh.
She crosses her legs and I catch themovement in my peripheral vision. Those thighs. Soft and strong... they trembled when I pushed them wider.
Yes. Very harsh.
“Done,” I reply, though I’m dying inside.
Amara leans forward. “We also need clarity on intellectual property. Jess may pursue outside creative work. She retains all rights to any pre-existing or future works. Rest assured, there will be no kid content whatsoever. No faces, no interiors of the home or FHG spaces. No use of FHG marks without written permission.”
Smart. Protecting her lane if she rebuilds her brand. I respect that even as part of me wants to know what she’s planning. What she’s creating in that head of hers.
“Not a problem,” I tell Amara. “And I appreciate the privacy piece. Ben’s face doesn’t go online. Period.”
Jess looks up at that. Our eyes meet and hold.
Her pupils dilate slightly. Just a fraction. But I see it. I see everything. The flush starting at her collarbone. The way her lips part like she’s about to say something and then thinks better of it. That mouth. Christ. That smart, sharp mouth that looked so fucking good stretched around my fingers, tasting herself. That would look even better wrapped around my cock.
She looks away.
“Mutual NDA,” Amara continues. “With a morals clause limited to privacy and safety. It doesn’t bar lawful reporting or whistleblowing.”
Elena writes that down without comment but I can see the approval in the set of her shoulders. This is a good contract. Protective without being punitive. Jess came prepared.
I’m impressed.
I shouldn’t be.
It’s just a nanny contract.
Except it’s not.
It’s a treaty.
A framework for how we’re going to exist in proximity without combusting. How I’m going to see her every day and pretend I don’t remember the sounds she made. How she’s going to take care of my daughter and act like I didn’t walk away after making her cum four times.
“Exit clause,” Jess finishes. “If boundaries blur, either party can end employment immediately with two weeks’ pay and a neutral reference.”
