Chapter 17
Parker
I’m going to push him over the edge. I am going to put fingerprints all over his gold accessories and lick his face if I can.
Get all the germs on him, then watch him convulse on the floor in disgust. Don’t poke the bear, they say.
I say, poke it until it becomes your bitch. And this bear is nearly there.
Oh my. I’m not sure where that came from, but I rather liked it.
Shimmying my cleavage under the sheer white tank, I watch myself in the mirror and I am totally feeling empowered. My confidence is off the charts, more so than normal. Don’t get too close, it could blow you away.
Slapping my knee, I laugh at my own joke, before raking my fingers through lush locks cascading from my head. I guide it back off my face. The volume that I was able to achieve is remarkable. Who knew I was this magical using a hot tool and some product?
Next, I take a hold of the plastic bottle of perfume. It’s basically the scent of sexy and delicious coconuts on a warm beach day in the Caribbean. Generous amounts of it get doused all over my body and I am loving it.
Also, I would like to take the time right now to let you all know, I have never done this with a hunt before.
Like, ever. It’s just that he’s making it too easy to piss him off and I love seeing his reaction to my advances.
Basically, his discomfort brings me great joy and I would like it etched into my brain for eternity.
It’s just a tad bit of fun before shit gets serious.
I usually have to chase the fuckers throughout the streets of the city.
And I hate working out. So, I decided I had to have a bit of fun with this one, considering the unique circumstances of him being my neighbor.
Spraying one last shot on my kitty, I place the perfume back on the vanity before I overdo it. Believe it or not, I tend to have that tendency. I know. It’s all shocking information. It’s okay, just breathe. Stay with me, because it’s about to get really good. I promise. Trust me.
Leaving the bathroom, the hall lights turn on as they sense me walking, guiding the way through my apartment.
Drapes are closed, keeping my sanctuary secluded in solitude.
The windows are tinted, therefore at night, in theory, no one should be able to see in.
But what if they aren’t actually as tinted as they are?
You can never be too trusting. Then one day your naked Sunday dancing is broadcasted all over the internet. No, thank you.
The team has the night off. Ophelia would have a stroke if she knew what I was about to get up to, and sometimes her moaning really does my head in.
Grabbing my phone off the counter, I check the time and it is nearly nine at night.
Imagine I did all this just to wake a sleeping old man.
Holden is definitely someone who could have a six p.m. bedtime.
I hope he has a night hat on with a matching nightgown.
I would die laughing, only after taking a picture so I could print and frame it in my kitchen.
Sliding my phone into my back pocket, I take one last look around to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. My body shifts and hands hover, and I think we are good to go. Leaving my place snug as a bug and locked up tight, I walk the twenty feet to Holden’s door and knock loudly. Three times.
No one comes. So, I knock three more times, harder.
The gold-plated door knocker rattles with each vibration my knuckles bring to the hard piece of wood.
It’s at this point I wonder if my prediction was correct.
Is he really an old man trapped in a strapping young man’s body?
Could he already be in bed? I have a lock picking kit and it’s not beneath me to use it.
I haven’t done a B and E in ages. My fingers spirit dance in excitement at the thought alone.
Before I can get too carried away, a latch clicks and the door opens.
Sadly, no sleep hat or gown to report. Holden is in a pair of black sweats, no shoes, no socks, and a white V-neck tee with his signature black thick-framed glasses on.
Lord help me now, I am about to melt into a puddle. Even his feet are fit.
Glancing down at his feet once more, I’m captivated.
Never have I seen this man so exposed in my life.
His toes are precious and perfectly manicured.
And do my eyes fool me, or do I detect a coat of clear polish on those cuticle pressed nails?
Holden Hammer runs a tight grooming ship.
No wonder he judges me. Just call me a hot mess express next to this guy, damn.
I know you’re wondering what the fuck has come over me.
Sue me, whatever. But don’t, really. Friends don’t sue friends.
I’ve been in a drought. A long winter has since turned into a very long summer.
The kitty is hungry and my hard nipples have pointed me in his direction suddenly.
I won’t fuck him. That’s all bullshit coming out of my mouth to annoy him.
It’s fun. But the spank bank material collection is on full throttle.
I can’t be tamed, as a great songstress once said.
Let me have this, okay?
As quick as the asshole saw my face is how quickly the door starts to shut on it.
I think not. Reaching my hand out, I stop his attempt with my superstrength.
Holding it open, I toe my foot in next, placing it in the small gap remaining.
No one closes the door on Parker Paxton Presley.
In an annoyingly cheerful tone, I greet my old pal.
“Hi, neighbor. As promised, now is later.”
“Go away,” is all he says in return. Rude.
Pivoting to the side, I angle my shoulder and ram it into the door forcefully. Holden trips backward from the unexpected attack on his homeland and I cheer in victory. Invasion successful.
Looking around, I immediately notice his layout differs from mine, more open and modern.
His kitchen is done in a sleek black stone, with matching black appliances.
White marble, I assume, is at our feet. And his counters don’t have a single thing on them, not even a coffee machine. Who is this freak?
Gold light fixtures and faucets catch my attention next, along with his giant farmhouse sink, also in black. All of which is very on-brand for Mr. Hammer. Does he not know another color palette?
It takes every bit of self-control that I can muster up to not take my hands and drag them across everything he owns. The smudge marks from the lotion and natural oil would take him hours to remove. The squeaking of my fingertips against the cool stone texture would satisfy my fucking soul.
Then, he ruins my fantasy by speaking.
“Leave. Now.” His voice is firm and angry. I like it.
Spinning in place to face him, I smile, then disagree with his request. “I don’t think I will.” While bopping his nose with my finger.
Holden’s face reddens. Steam nearly comes out of his ears while his head cocks to the side.
Before he can yell at me, I use my foot to kick the door closed behind me.
“Take your pants off. It’s time to fuck the hate out of each other.
Or add to it, I don’t care.” Looking him up and down with the utmost seriousness, I add, “Get naked, boyo,” and clap my hands together.
“You are not getting anywhere near my dick. That is a fucking promise.”
“Shh. You don’t need to fight it anymore. We’re alone now.”
Holden’s brow furrows in displeasure while his eyes widen in horror. “You are insane. We are ever so clearly living in two different realities.”
That we are and I am having the best time in mine.
Changing my tone, I bring in the baby. “But please, Daddy.”
His hand rises, cutting me off before I can continue aggravating him. “Never call me that again, you psychotic freak.”
This could go one of two ways right now. I could be offended and argue, which would give him great satisfaction. Or, hear me out, I can call him it again.
“Daddy, don’t yell at me.” My lips pout, the baby voice continues, adding to my chaos.
Our eyes meet. Neither of us budges. Officially, I would like to declare, we are in a standoff.
His face is stone, stubble wraps around his jawline, thick, frazzled hair sits on top of his head, and a part of me wonders if he has plugs or has had a hair transplant.
Holden has a fantastic hairline. As my mind wanders, I maintain the delightful smile adorning my lips.
Holden steps forward. He is at least a foot taller than me, but I don’t look up.
My gaze stays on his chest. I can feel his warm breath on the top of my head.
My own breath hitches as he speaks. His voice is low, forceful, and damn near threatening.
“I don’t know who you are or why you have this sudden fixation on me.
Or why you know a taxidermy guy. Or why you were in my fucking trunk the other day.
Frankly, I don’t care. But you are starting to really piss me off. And that should scare you.”
Focus remains on his chest. In hushed words and a seductive tone, I make it known, “You will never scare me.”
Holden lowers his head. Lips are next to my ear as he promises, “I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”
A chill ripples down my spine. If only he knew who he was threatening. I have seen far worse than he can promise. The people I work for are very bad, bad people. A smirk forms on the corner of my lips. Let’s fucking play.
It’s like he read my mind. Strong fingers grip my top, and suddenly I am being dragged across his apartment. I’m able to get a glimpse out of his windows. The view from my place is superior.