Page 106 of The Wrong Heart

I suppose it still is.

Important, anyway.

But it’s noteverything.

“Yes,” I answer honestly, drawing my eyes back to Parker. The lines in his forehead crease, and his jaw stiffens. “He’s gone now, though. We don’t talk anymore.”

“Why not?”

I spit the words out quickly, because if I don’t, I’ll choke on them. “He saw what I looked like and never spoke to me again. I must not have been what he was hoping for.”

A flash of pain crosses Parker’s face, a wince, almost as if my admission were a sharp slap across his cheek. He grits his teeth together. “Or maybe you were everything he was hoping for, and he wasn’t ready for that.”

My next breath lodges in the back of my throat, not expecting something so kind and reassuring to pass through Parker’s lips. I inch closer to him on the couch, placing my palm against his thigh. “Thank you. That was really sweet.”

“Sweet,” he parrots, glancing at my hand. And then in one fell swoop, he snatches it up, pulling me by the wrist with his left hand and using the other to scoop me off the couch and position me on his lap. His fingers glide up my spine until he’s gripping the back of my neck, our foreheads almost touching while I straddle him. “If you knew all the things I wanted to do to you right now, I don’t think you’d be calling me sweet.”

A surge of desire blazes through me as I press my groin into his, running my fingers through his soft hair. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want to.”

“Oh, I fucking want to. I want you so much it’s killing me,” he nearly hisses, grinding his erection into the heat between my thighs. “It’s killing me because I can’t…”

Parker’s eyes close, and he goes silent.

“You can’t what?” I brush a lock of loose hair from his forehead, then place a tender kiss to his hairline. “Tell me.”

A heartbeat goes by, and then a growl rumbles through his chest, vibrating into mine. He yanks me off his lap and flips me over on the couch until I’m faceplanted into the cushions. I squeak in surprise when he lifts me up by my midsection, my ass jutted out, ramming into his hard arousal. Parker’s hands sweep up the back of my thighs as he drags my dress up over my hips, then palms my cheeks sheathed in lace. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

I hear his belt buckle unlatch, and something in me freezes.

God, I want him, there’s no doubt about that…

But I don’t want him like this. Something doesn’t feel right. He’s angry, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his transferred aggression with my face buried in his sofa cushions. “Parker, wait.”

He hoists me up until my back is flush against him, one hand cupping my breast. I lose myself for a moment, yielding to his touch, relishing in the way my skin dances to life when his lips dip to my ear, and he whispers, “You on that pill? I want to come in you.”

His words shoot tingles straight to the throbbing juncture between my legs. I arch against him, nodding. “I am now.”

A little late to be inquiring about that, considering I had to race to the pharmacy and purchase the morning after pill following our foolish, unprotected sex romp in my backyard. Then I panic-called my OB-GYN to order in a prescription for birth control since I’ve been on-and-off it for over a year now.

Parker rasps a quick “good” into my ear, and then his zipper unfastens as he tugs my panties down my hips. He gathers my mane of hair in his fist and moves it aside while he holds me up with his opposite arm. His mouth finds the back of my neck, his tongue teasing me into submission. When his fingers drift from my hair and snake around my midsection, delving between my thighs, I instinctively bow my back, seeking his touch.

A groan reaches my ear as he thrusts two fingers inside me, causing my knees to buckle. I drop my head back against his shoulder, feeling his hot breath kiss my temple.

But when I twist around to make eye contact, he removes his fingers and pushes me back down onto the couch until I’m on all fours, and he’s grasping my hips between both palms, aligning me with his pelvis.

Damn it.

“Parker, stop,” I murmur, low and hushed because part of me doesn’twantto stop, but loud enough that he can hear me. Because we should. “Not like this.”

He stills, his fingertips digging into my waist. “You want to stop?”

“I think so.”

“Did I do something?”

Pushing up on my arms, I lift to my knees and situate my clothing, tugging up my underwear and pulling my dress back down. I face him, noting he’s staring at me with a wounded expression, wrought with confusion, propped up on his knees like me. “I just… I want more than that,” I admit, swallowing down a wave of emotion.

I feel a little silly.

---