Page 23 of Taming Waves

He reaches out and runs his knuckles over the front of my still-damp sweatshirt.

“Don’t think I can handle the thought of you …wetin my bed,” he murmurs as he steps in closer.

The deep, seductive tone of his voice and the heat of him render me speechless for a few beats.

“What?”

“You heard me, Tiger.”

The sound of his old nickname for me pulls me from my momentary brain fog, and I bring my hands up between us and give him a firm shove.

He doesn’t budge.

“Step back,” I demand. “And save your dirty mouth for someone who would appreciate it.”

“I seem to remember my dirty mouth being one of your favorite things,” he whispers into my ear before he leans back.

The man is walking, talking sex on a stick. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? A gentleman would have gone away for a few years and returned with a beer belly and a receding hairline, but not Parker Alston. No, this asshole came home taller, broader, and with fucking rock-hard abs.

I glance up at him and narrow my eyes at the triumphant grin gracing his stupidly handsome face.

“Yeah, well, I had nothing to compare it to back then. Turns out, that mouth isn’t as talented as I once thought,” I say.

His grin widens. “Oh, trust me, it was talented then, and it’s only gotten better with practice.”

My bravado drops as a shiver runs down my treacherous spine.

“Whatever,” I mumble as I squeeze past him into the dark bedroom.

He follows me inside and sets the candle on the nightstand. Then, he bends and opens a drawer on the side of the bed frame. He pulls out three T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. He hands a shirt to me and drops the rest on the bed.

He stands and reaches behind him, grabs the neck of his henley, and pulls it over his head, exposing his chiseled chest. Hetosses it in the hamper in the corner of the room before pulling on one of the dry tees. Then, he takes the sweatpants in his hand.

I turn and face away from him. “Geezus, Parker.”

“Don’t worry. I’m keeping my pants on. Just taking these with me.”

I let out a breath and turn back to him.

He tucks the pants under his arm and picks up the candle. He walks over and reaches behind me to place it on the mantle above the small fireplace set into the wall. Then his eyes flicker to mine, and his hand comes up to softly brush his knuckles against the side of my face.

His touch lingers on my cheek before his thumb sweeps over my bottom lip. In this moment, I want him to kiss me so badly. My eyes dart between his gaze and his mouth, then back again as he sucks his lip between his teeth and bites down. After holding it for a moment, he releases it.

“Audi,” he murmurs.

“Uh, huh?”

“You need to stop looking at me like that, baby, if you want me to walk out of here.”

I swallow, a small gasp escaping me as he drops his hand.

“Do you need a minute?”

I blink at his question. “What?”

The lust that had filled his gaze is now replaced with smug amusement.

Asshole.

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