Page 54 of House of Desire

“What do you want to do after dinner?” he asks, joining me on the couch.

“I thought maybe we could just relax and watch some movies? Or is that too boring? What did you do with the others?”

I want to kick myself for the last question. Not only is it not my business, I also just don’t want to know. Thankfully, he acts like I didn’t even ask.

“Will you snuggle with me during the movie?”

“Hmm,” I hum, tapping my mouth with my finger, considering. “It’s going to cost you.”

His eyes light up at my joking tone. “Oh, yeah? Have some laundry you need me to do? Or maybe some floors that need to be scrubbed?”

This is the most at ease I have seen Parker this entire time. While his kindness and humor remain unchanged, there’s a looseness that makes him even more appealing. Makes me fall for him even more. This could be our lives, if we left this show in a relationship. Spending time together after work, relaxing. The image paints itself in my mind and my heart starts to race.

“A kiss.” I may not be ready to have sex with him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want him to touch me.

“Easy,” he says, almost lunging across the couch and planting a noisy, wet kiss on my lips. “There you go.”

I wipe away his affection with the back of my hand and he rests his hand on his chest, fake affront on his face.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Deepest apologies, please continue,” he says magnanimously.

“I want you to kiss me like you did in the bakery.” All humor drops from his expression and his eyes burn into mine.

“Like the bakery, huh?” Unlike last time, he moves slowly, with purpose. A squeak escapes me as he grabs my ankle and pulls me toward him, laying me out on the couch. “I can do that.”

He moves over me, holding the majority of his weight off me. I run my hands up his back, feeling his muscles twitch and pull him down on top of me.

“I don’t want to crush you,” he whispers as I spread my legs, letting him settle between them.

“You won’t,” I say before I capture his mouth.

Everything about it is perfect. We take our time tasting each other until he pulls away panting, making his way down my neck, littering kisses as he goes. He follows the neckline of my shirt until he’s kissing the swell of my breast, pulling the fabric down ever so slightly, bearing more skin to his attentions.

My nipples pebble beneath my lace bra, and I can tell he’s aching to suck them into his mouth.

My pulse thunders as I take a deep breath and twine my fingers in his hair, holding him to me tightly, higher than I want him to be, but not yet crossing that line. As his hands move under the hem of my shirt and tease the under-side of my breast, I consider throwing all my plans out the window and letting Parker take me.

That is, until the knock at the door has us springing apart like guilty teenagers.

“Room service,” the voice calls out.

“Coming,” Anastasia says, her voice husky with lust as she pulls her clothes into order. I would normally get up and get the door myself, but my raging hard on is probably not something the poor resort employee wants to see.

“Good evening, ma’am. Where would you like me to put this delicious food?” he asks, pushing the silver cart into the room.

“The table would be great, thank you,” Anastasia says. Awkward silence fills the air as we wait for the server to finish placing the dishes on the table.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you so much.” Anya holds the door open for him. By the time he pushes his cart out of the door, my erection has deflated enough I can stand up.

I move over to the table and pull out her chair.

“After you,” I say.

“Why thank you, sir.”

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