You were the Donaldson’s babysitter, caring for Art and Tashi’s daughter Lily when they were tired or out training for Art’s big tennis comeback— it was a dysfunctional family, by what you saw. Tashi was so emotionally unattached, Art no longer found that love that he did before, but then there came you, oh, God, you— well, there were a lot of things wrong with that lingering thought in his head, things that happened to be very, well, very taboo for a tennis star.

You were young, like, fresh out of university young, while he was going on his mid thirties with a daughter, but you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen— a ray of sunshine, innocent and so damn pretty. He hated that he was mentally cheating on Tashi every time he looked at you and felt that fire that he once did with her, and he was so sweet on you as well, so nice, the perfect employer.

He leaned on the door of the nursery, glancing to his asleep daughter in the cot, blissfully unaware of how her father was probably committing heresy right now. “Is she asleep?” He asked softly, smiling, taking in your fluffy jumper, tight jeans, oh, no, this was bad, so bad.

It was bad enough that he really wanted you between his sheets, but he couldn’t get enough of you. “That’s good.” He breathed, rubbing his cheek with a weary smile— being a dad was hard work, but shit, you made him feel so damn alive again, wait, no, stop, stop, he wasn’t meant to feel that way.

Your big eyes, pouty lips, full, um, assets and everything had him drooling every time he looked at you, and hell, he’d totally abandon his ring if it meant one night with you. Hell, he took it off when you were home, and he was already making excuses for why this was right in his head.