“Shh,” he said, and kissed her just beneath her ear. “You’re also fierce,” he went on. “Loyal. Tough . . .”
She heard another moan. Still her.
Parker sucked her earlobe into his mouth and then gently sank his teeth into her and gave a little tug.
She gasped and would’ve slid to the floor if he hadn’t lifted her to the counter. He did it casually, easily, and then with a palm on each thigh, he pushed open her legs.
And then he made himself at home between them.
“But one thing you’re most definitely not,” he said, “is uptight.” And then his mouth covered hers.
Sixteen
The kiss blew Zoe’s socks off. It was so easy to get lost in the promise of what he offered: no wondering, wishing, worrying . . . Wrapped up tight in him as she was, she felt tempted. She also felt feminine and powerful and oh so ready for whatever came next . . .
But then he pulled back.
Reflexively she tightened her hold on him, and with one hand in his hair and the other spread wide over a deliciously bare pec, she stared up at him, confused. “Are we stopping?”
His gaze shifted from her mouth to her eyes, and the corners of his sexy mouth tilted up into a wolf grin that dripped with pure male sex appeal. “Your choice,” he said, and cupped the nape of her neck as he brushed his lips against her temple. Then her jaw. The corner of her mouth. “Whatever you want, Zoe.”
Whatever she wanted? She wanted him, now. “The kittens,” she murmured.
“Fell asleep.”
She craned her neck to see around him. Oreo had fallen asleep on his bed in the corner of the kitchen, and unbelievably the two little kittens had done the same, cuddled up next to him like he was their mama.
Tilting his head, Parker began a new assault on her senses as he worked his way along her jaw.
“So what is it you want?” he asked, lightly sinking his teeth into her earlobe.
His low voice rumbled from his chest through hers, and she sucked in a breath trying to take it all in. The warmth of his touch on her skin, the hunger in his voice, the invitation in his words . . . He stood between her spread legs, his tough body hard against all her soft spots. What did she want? A man-made orgasm would be a good start . . .
“Tell me,” he said, voice low and just a little rough.
She lifted her head and met his gaze.
He flashed a smile. “Me,” he said. “You want me.”
God help her, she did. But she could de-lust her brain enough to roll her eyes at his ridiculous cockiness. “A little sure of yourself?”
He laughed softly, and she was just about to clock him for it when he said, “Babe, with you, I’m more unsure than I’ve ever been.”
The confession, uttered with a hint of bewilderment and one-hundred-percent honesty, had the knot loosening in her chest. Were they really on equal ground here?
“Say it,” he said with soft command, holding her gaze prisoner.
“I want you,” she whispered.
He didn’t gloat. He just let out a breath of what she chose to believe was relief before pulling back enough to look at her, really look at her. Clearly he wasn’t into instant gratification at the moment because he didn’t move, just appeared to really enjoy his view.
But she was wanting some instant gratification, bad, and reached for the tie on his sweats. With a groan, he captured her hands, spreading them out at her sides to look his fill as if he needed to memorize her every inch.
Impatient with that, she tried to pull him back into her, but he wasn’t a man to be directed. Instead he let go of her hands to grab the hem of her cami and drag it up her body until it got caught on her arms. Now she had a problem. She had to let go of him if she wanted skin on skin.
But she didn’t want to let go of him.
Ever.
She had no idea where that terrifying thought came from, so she shoved it deep and lifted her arms.
Parker tossed the cami aside and let out a rough breath at the sight of her bare breasts. “Damn, Zoe. You’re so beautiful.” Curling an arm low on her hips, his other hand cupped a breast, letting his thumb rasp over the tip. Back and forth until she rocked up into him. Bending his head, he used his mouth. And oh, goodness, his mouth. She was so distracted by his wicked tongue that she cried out in surprise and need when his warm, work-roughened fingers slid into the boxers and between her thighs. She’d fantasized about this with him, but the reality far exceeded any dream. His fingers seemed to know her body, understanding what she needed before even she knew, stroking her in a rhythm that had all cognitive thought put on hold. “Parker,” she managed, clutching at him, her hips rocking of their own accord.
“Let go, Zoe,” he said, his mouth working its way to her other breast. “I’ve got this.”
She choked out a laugh at how he’d used her own words against her, and melted for him. The morning air was cool and should have chilled her bare skin, but Parker had his torso pressed into hers, and heat poured off his large body. Threading his fingers in her hair, he tipped her face up so he could kiss her as thoroughly as he wanted.
And apparently that was very thoroughly.
She was breathless in seconds, clinging to him, panting, whimpering for more as she explored his arms, his chest, everything she could reach.
He continued to do the same, kissing his way over her shoulder and collarbone, and then back to a breast where he once again drew a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and her eyes rolled back in her head a little. Realizing she had her hands fisted in his hair pulling hard, she tried to let up. “Sorry,” she gasped.
She felt Parker’s lips curve, and when he shook his head, silently telling her no worries, the gentle rasp of the stubble along his jaw made her moan for more.
This time his soft laugh huffed against a breast.
“Not funny,” she managed, wanting to give back as good as she was getting, her hands skimming over the smooth muscles of his back, her fingertips searching out every ridge, every dip and sleek line of sinew. When she’d made it to his hips, she kept going into the back of his sweats, grabbing his very fine ass as she spread her legs wider and rocked into him.
At that same moment, he slid a finger into her and groaned along with her. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he rasped.
“For me to grab your ass?”
“For you to be ready for me.”
She’d been ready for him at first sight, not that she was about to admit that. “Well, you’ve got it now,” she whispered, and then nipped at his throat. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Plenty.” He kissed her hard and long before pulling free. When she mewled in protest, he flashed her a smile and hooked a foot in one of her chairs, dragging it toward him.
“What—”
“Shh,” he murmured, and dropped into the chair and then leaned in to run his mouth up her inner thigh. When the material of her thin boxers thwarted him, he merely scooped them to the side. “Oh Christ, Zoe. You’re so wet.” Then he put his mouth on her and in less than two minutes she was nearly to that orgasm she’d been hoping for, so . . . very . . . close . . . as he held her there on the very thin precipice . . .
And then . . .
Her cell phone rang.
As it was plugged in on the counter right behind her, the ring nearly startled her heart right out of her chest.