Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
PARKER
She has the face of an angel with a wicked tongue. “I didn’t tell you everything.”
“You told me enough.”
Her breath hitches. “I want to be on record that this is still a bad idea.” She stresses the word still.
“And yet.”
“And yet,” she echoes.
“You’re in my room, wanting the same thing as me,” I rasp out.
She’s so fucking beautiful. Her full hips and thick toned legs. I move my finger to her neck and can feel her pulse pounding against my finger pads.
It’s different from last time. Slower because there’s a silent understanding underneath the pokes and jabs.
I’m on the edge of the bed and she’s still on the couch. I wrap my hands around her and pull her onto my lap. Careful and cautious, my mouth finds her again. Warm with desire. And this time she doesn’t hesitate.
She wiggles closer.
I feel like I’m jumping off a cliff with no parachute. Kissing the woman who’s dug herself deep into my head, trying to flip switches. But right now, I don’t care. I need her, and judging by the soft hum against my mouth she needs me too.
Maybe not forever but for one night.
The kiss lingers, exploring and unhurried. With every shift of our tongues, the rhythm changes, making each stroke is intentional.
It feels like we’re building something. Laying the foundation for something neither of us seems ready for.
When I break away from her, I rest my forehead against hers, desperate to remember the lines she drew and how far we’ve already crossed it.
She whispers, “We should stop.”
“Yeah.”
Yet, neither of us moves. And that’s the problem.
Dotting her neck with open-lipped kisses, I move the collar of her blouse to the side, dragging my nose under her ear and across her collarbone.
My fingers push the buttons of her silky shirt through the holes, exposing her full breasts.
Her chest rises and falls in short beats with her pupils blown against her porcelain skin.
My finger pads trace the curve of her bra, causing her breasts to pimple. I dip my head into her flesh, kissing and sucking. She slides one of her legs over mine, now straddling me. One hand sneaks around the back of my neck and she arches into me, asking for more.
Unable to stop there, I make quick work of the small buttons and rake the silky purple blouse from her shoulders. My fingers pause for a half a second like I’m giving her one last chance to stop me before I pinch the clasp of her matching colored bra.
She doesn’t.
Her breath comes faster, chest pushing against me, her fingers gripping my neck like she’s anchoring herself to something she doesn’t quite trust.
The straps slide down her shoulders, and I brush the fabric away, letting it fall between us.
When I look down, she moves one hand to cover her breasts and one hundred percent of my focus is in one place.
“Don’t be shy. You’re beautiful,” I say, my voice hoarse and low. I take her hand in mine and place hers around my neck.
She looks at me like she’s already questioning how we got to this point.
I murmur against the skin above her nipple, “Still a bad idea?”
“Yes,” she lets out an exaggerated sigh.
I run my tongue over her hardened peak, sucking, pacing myself, wanting to memorize every moment.
Her hands tunnel into my hair and raise my head so that we’re only a hairsbreadth apart. My mouth finds her again and she speeds us up like she’s chasing a feeling. I am too, I can already feel something happening in my core. Her lips shift against mine and I feel it everywhere.
The heat.
The friction.
The fact that we’re quickly losing control from rules and ethics.
My hands move down her back, mapping the curve of her spine, pulling her so tight there’s no more room between us.
She exhales sharply into my mouth and I break the kiss just long enough to drag my tank over my head, tossing it onto the floor.
Her eyes dart down my chest and then back up. Her eyes—curious, hungry, uncertain.
“Parker…” she whispers.
Is it a warning? Is it permission? Or something in between?
Her skirt inches up on her thighs and I brush my fingers under the hem, while I peer into her eyes. If she wants me to stop, her eyes will tell me even if she can’t voice it.
She leans into me more, her breath warm against my throat as I kiss my way back down to her chest, my heartbeat thumping nearly out of control. I can’t remember ever wanting someone so bad.
I suckle her breasts and graze her nipple between my teeth, and her body reacts to everything.
Every touch.
Every shift.
Every breath.
As if she’s not used to letting herself feel this much.
The realization slows me for a half-second. Not because I want to stop. But because I want to get it right for her. And for me.
I pull back just enough to focus on her, moving my hand to cradle her face, grounding her, giving her a chance to breathe. But I have to ask before I ruin the professional side of our relationship. “Do you want this?” I ask, whispering over her lips.
“Yes.” Her voice is clear but breathy.
That’s all I need.
She shifts, rolling her center against me and the last bit of control I had snaps. My hands tighten on her waist, pushing her hips down, grinding on me, slow and hard. This time we’re less careful, operating on pure hunger, like we’ve decided we’re done pretending this isn’t happening.
Or that there’s even a choice.
Her nails scrape lightly down my shoulders while moving her hot heat against me causing me to hiss out. “Annika.”
She answers by kissing me deeper. My hands are everywhere. I need to feel her. Touch her. So, I slide one hand higher on her thigh. It’s hot and electric the way she tenses and then relaxes under my touch.
My hand sneaks under her skirt, then I slide my fingers under the silky fabric covering the place I want to feel most. She’s wet with need and with every swipe of my fingers through her folds, she purrs.
That alone makes my balls draw up. We’re right there. On the edge of doing something we can’t take back. And for a moment, I don’t care. If we called it off right now, we might survive and keep the professional part of our relationship. But all I want is—
Knuckles knock against the door.
We freeze in place. One finger on the precipice of entering her and my thumb on her clit, which she loves by the way.
Her body stiffens and her lids open wide.
“Don’t move,” I whisper in her ear.
“Parker, open up,” Matt says as he raps again.
I exhale hard, pressing my forehead briefly to hers before gently lifting her off my lap.
“Hide or go public?”
She scrambles off the bed, grabbing what she can and disappearing into the corner.
Well, I guess I got her answer.
I drag my hand through my hair and pull on my shirt. “Yeah, yeah. Coming.”
Coming. That’s what I wish I was doing instead of answering my brother-in-law.
I open the door just a crack to obstruct his view.
Matt stands there looking way too alert. “Your sister was hoping you would come read to the kids,” he says. “It’s tradition.”
My shoulders fall as I steady myself against the doorframe.
“Bro, I’ve done it twice.”
“For Noelle, that’s a tradition. You know that.” He shifts like he wants to step in.
I shift with him. Blocking his view.
“Sorry, I was already asleep.”
Matt pauses, then leans, looking over my shoulder, trying to see past me.
I take a glimpse over my shoulder. Please don’t let Annika be visible. And that’s when I see them.
Her heels. In plain sight.
Just my luck. When things go sideways for this O’Ryan they go off the rails, like not being able to catch the ball consistently.
I turn back just as Matt’s mouth curves into a smile that lingers like he’s holding back a smart-ass comment. His chin dips. “I’ll tell her you were in bed…asleep.”
“Okay, I’ll see you on the bus.”
He claps my shoulder and after he’s taken a few strides, I close the door and lean against it for a second.
Did Matt just ruin the best thing that’s happened to me in years?
“He’s gone.”
Annika steps out from the corner, her blouse pressed over her chest upside down, her hair slightly wild, her expression somewhere between embarrassed and amused.
“You read to your sister’s kids?” she asks.
I rub my hand down my face, wondering if our moment is over. “Twice on road trips.”
“That’s all it takes. Repetition.”
“Don’t start.”
“Promise me you’ll use the technique every time. Repetition is the key.”
“Okay, I promise.
She approaches me with that same confidence she uses in her office. But her hips are swaying when she presses both palms against my chest and pushes.
I stumble back onto the bed. “Annika.”
She climbs up, settling over me with a mischievous grin.
“I think you owe me a story,’ she says.
I let out a low breath, skin tingling realizing we’re not finished. “I don’t have anything to read.” My brow lifts, teasing.
“No?”
I pull her closer, my voice dropping. “But I can make something up.”
“Improvisation,” she murmurs, her voice seductive.
“Yeah,” I say, brushing my lips beneath her ear letting my words ghost across her skin. “And this one’s going to be a lot more interesting than anything I read to the kids.”
Her fingers tighten around my shirt, pushing it up my chest until I slide out of it. I kiss the valley between her breasts, then flip her over to her back and I go lower, removing her skirt.
She arches into me, fingers threading through my hair. But when I peel that last bit of lace down her legs with reverent hands, she makes a sound—half moan, half plea.
That sound.
Untangles every nerve inside me.
Kissing up her inner thighs, I roam up to her wet glistening center at a snail’s pace, savoring every moment. I stroke her folds wildly with my tongue before settling on her clit, sucking, and grazing.
I look up and her eyes are shielded by her lids. I say her name and her eyes flutter open—vulnerable, trusting. Something in my chest cracks open.
“Annika,” I breathe, voice raw. “You’re perfect. I love having something to hold on to.”
“But I’m… I’m.”
She doesn’t finish as I continue licking her until she’s bucking her hips into my face. My hand squeezes her hips, and my fingers sink in holding her in place.
Her moans grow louder, needier until she’s trembling on the edge of orgasm. I slip my finger inside her and she mutters, “Yes” as she lifts her head off the bed only for it to fall back.
Her legs shake and her body tenses as she comes on my finger and then tongue. I watch her face, flushed and tight until she sucks in that last bit of air.
I rise from the bed, shedding the rest of my clothes and removing a foil packet from my wallet.
My cock is so hard it aches, but I pause letting the moment stretch.
Her eyes widening at the sight of me, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
I tear open the foil and ask, “Do you want to put it on?”
She looks away.
“Look at me, gorgeous.” She turns back to me. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “This isn’t… I’m not.”
“Talk to me.”
“I’ve seen the girls you date.”
A satisfied smile spreads over my face. “So, this is a date?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I'm the opposite of the girls you were with in college. You know the bimbos. The ones that all look alike—stick straight blonde hair, manicured brows, fake nails and skinny,” she mumbles, never looking me at my face, instead she’s focused on my abdomen.
I’ve never seen Annika look so vulnerable.
Sound so vulnerable.
It does something to me. Makes me feel protective. Makes me want to know why she feels that she’s not beautiful.
“First, I wouldn’t call them bimbos. Second, I never dated any of them.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Annika, I would have asked you out back then, but you hated me.”
“Despised is a better word,” she says as she peeks at my face.
A harsh chuckle escapes my lips. “But I kept coming.” I lean down kissing her inner thigh. “And I want to make you come. Do you want to make me come?”
She whispers, the word getting stuck in her throat, “Yes.”
I roll on the condom and ease myself between her thighs. With our eyes fixed on each other, my hair falls forward as my lips find hers, exploring the newfound truce between us.
“Are you ready for your bedtime story?”
Her eyes soften. “Is it a long one?” she asks in a teasing tone.
“Oh, it’s long.”
“We’ll see.”
I push inside her inch by slow, tortuous inch. Her inner walls are warm, wet and perfect. When I bottom out, she lets out the sexiest purr I’ve ever heard. I hold still, letting her adjust, our foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.
She signals that she’s ready by tipping her nose up and sliding her lips over my jaw and then moves to my mouth. It’s slow and methodical, making sure to catalog her every sound and movement.
Our hips start moving in harmony. My cock aches as her nails drag over my ass giving me the go ahead. She’s ready.
“Dripping wet for me, gorgeous. So warm and tight,” I say as I move down to lick her. “I have to have another taste.”
And when I do, she pulls me back up. “Kiss me.”
Our mouths tangle as I push in with long deep strokes, dragging pleasure from both of us. She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging into my back, keeping me close.
Every thrust builds tension.
Skin slapping softly.
Nails raking down my shoulders.
I’ve never thought so much during sex. This is different. I could get used to doing this every damn day—with her.
“Parker.” Her voice, half broken.
I groan, “Hearing my name fall from your lips will last me a lifetime.”
Her inner walls tighten around me. The flutter of her muscles tells me she’s teetering on the edge.
“Come for me, baby,” I growl against her ear, angling my hips just right.
I’m hanging on by a thread, thrust after thrust, when a cry shatters from her core.
Not a yes.
Not my name.
Not God’s.
Just a sharp cry caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief.
Her head is thrown back, lips parted, eyes glassy and my cock is pulsing so hard it sends me over the edge. I bury myself deep inside her and feel my orgasm ripping through my soul, hips stuttering against hers.
I stay on top of her, tangled and trembling, hearts hammering in sync—kissing her tenderly, tasting salt and satisfaction.
Somewhere along the way, she stopped feeling temporary.
And that realization lands hard enough to steal the air from my lungs.
When the kiss ends, she glides her finger over my lip. “You’re a good storyteller,” she says, smiling and glowing with a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“Just good.” I lift an inquisitive brow.
“A little more practice wouldn’t hurt.”
“It’s a good thing I love to practice.”