Page 93 of House of Desire

“Friday sounds perfect.”

“Then it’s a date,” I say as we grin at each other like fools.

The week seemed to slow down with the excitement for my date with Parker, but now I’m convinced time is passing in double time as I get ready. This time, I don’t need Dom or anyone else’s input on what I should wear on this date. There are no nerves. Just sweet anticipation. I keep everything simple since Parker told me to dress comfortably.

Favorite jeans.

Favorite blue t-shirt.

Favorite sneakers.

My phone dings that my ride has arrived. I grab a light jacket, just in case it’s a little cold as the sun goes down, and head out the door.

“Ma’am,” the driver says, holding my door open so I can climb in the pristine SUV, reminiscent of my time on House of Desire.

“Thank you,” I say as I get in.

When Parker asked for my address so he could send a car to pick me up, I was skeptical. But once he explained with rush hour it would take almost two hours for him to get to me and take us where we were going, I agreed, insisting I would drive myself and there was no need to hire a car.

“But I want to be able to drive you home and I can’t do that if you have your car.”

How could I say no to that? I sent him my address and he ordered the car for me, letting me know what time it would arrive. When I offered to pay, he didn’t even respond to my text.

I took that as a no.

“Can you tell me where we are going?” I ask the driver as he gets into the car.

“I was instructed to keep it a secret,” he says, pulling out of my driveway.

Of course Parker thought of that. He wanted our location to be a surprise and no matter how many naked pictures I promised to send him in exchange for the information, he wouldn’t budge.

Before long, the driver is pulling off the highway and I know immediately where we are going.

Anya: You’re taking me to an amusement park?

Parker: They say adrenaline can make you bond to a person or something. I figured it doesn’t hurt to try. Probably should have asked if you were afraid of heights.

Anya: I’m not afraid of heights. Eyes on the road, mister.

Parker: Talk to text, babe. See you soon. I will kiss you in greeting.

I smile down at my phone and know I am so screwed and probably half in love with this man already.

My driver pulls me up to the front of the theme park. Parker is standing there, looking hot as ever.

“I think I’m really becoming attached to those boots,” I tell him as I get out of the car.

The biker style boots never really did it for me before, but tonight, between the boots and the unbuttoned flannel hanging over his gray shirt with the sleeves cuffed, I want to push him into the car and take advantage of him a little bit. His hair is, understandably, pulled back in his low bun, but I have every intention of pulling it free later and running my hands through it.

“I’ll wear them whenever you want,” he says, hugging me to him.

“I thought you promised me a kiss,” I say, upset his lips are not already on mine.

“I didn’t want to be too presumptuous,” he admits.

“Presume away.”

Permission granted, he leans down and gives me a firm but chaste kiss. Pulling away too soon, I look up at him.

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