Page 53 of Ashes of Saints

“Hello, Aurora.” He purrs.

“Parker.” I squeak, suddenly extremely aware of my outrageous outfit and hardening nipples.

I cross my arms.

“Don’t do that on my account,” he says, taking a few steps into the kitchen as his hands pull free and he lifts his phone to his ear. “Bring them up when they arrive. Yes. Message me.”

Parker hangs up.

“Who was that?”

What is going on? He’s just showed back up in my life after almost a whole week like he knew where my mother lived and knew I’d be here.

“Eric.”

I nod, but nothing is making sense. Parker rounds the counter and stops in front of me as I turn to face him.

“You moved.”

“You found me.” I lift my face and fight the way my body heats with desire for him.

I can’t do this. He hasn’t called for a week—not that this is a relationship—but we were intimate and then just nothing.

Or is it a relationship? He took me on an expensive date. Didn’t kiss me. Then he showed up at my mother’s funeral and put his face between my legs.

And ran.

“How did you find me?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

His inked hand lifts and brushes against my cheek. “I’ll always find you, Aurora.”

Oh god. He is starting to sound just like a serial killer. Just because Parker Stone is successful doesn’t mean jack. Aren’t they usually well-functioning members of society?

I flinch and go to move away.

His hand freezes but his gaze narrows. “Don’t be scared.”

I let out a weird laugh.

“Why are you scared?” He looks almost angry, and that just adds to my nerves.

“No. I’m not.” I press my side into the counter to stop my body from shaking. “Surprised. That’s what I am.”

The hunger in his eyes is undeniable, and I wish my nipples weren’t hard. They are, despite the fear rushing through my body.

Jesus why didn’t I put on a sweater?

Or like a bulletproof vest.

“We have unfinished business,” Parker says, his hand sliding down my arm.

What? My brain does a one-eighty. Is he joking right now? He ate me out and now thinks I owe him.

What a fucking jerk.

As his hand circles my wrist, I get mad. “Do we?”

He smiles.

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