His gaze drops to my lips.
“Don’t you dare kiss me.”
“I really want to, though.”
“No.”
“What if I let you insult me a little more? Maybe you can call me a few more names, make yourself feel better.”
He’s still staring at my mouth. He moistens his lips. In response, my nipples harden.
“Let me try it out. Here goes: you’re a smug, no-good, lying, egotistical, heartless, money-grubbing bastard with absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever.”
His brows lift. “Money-grubbing? Now you’re just bei
ng petty.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
His hard cock twitches against my thigh. “Excuse me. Please proceed.”
“You’re overconfident. And bossy. And…mean.”
Parker’s eyes soften. His caresses on my warm behind are getting a little firmer, a little more sensual than soothing. “Are you feeling better yet?”
I swallow. My voice drops. “No.”
He bites his bottom lip. We stare at each other, our faces inches apart. His erection is now insistently throbbing against my leg.
I wish I could ignore it. Instead—much to my chagrin—I’d like to take it out and have a play date.
All thoughts of Luciano and Marie-Thérèse are now toast.
I whisper, “And you’re…scary.”
Parker knows exactly what I mean by that. His brows furrow. He breathes, “Oh, baby.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“Why?”
Now it’s my turn to bite my lip. “Because I like it too much.”
He gazes at me, unblinking, his gorgeous hazel eyes both hot and soft. “So that feeling I was telling you about yesterday? The one I can’t describe, that you called a crock of shit?”
“Yeah?”
He whispers, “It’s back. And it’s bigger than ever.”
Because that really throws me for a loop, I decide to distract him. “Bigger than ever like the churro in your pants?”
My little plan works; Parker’s smile is wicked. “The very same. I believe you said it was your favorite thing to eat?”
“Churros in general, not yours in particular.”
He chuckles. “Ouch. You sure know how to make a man feel special, Cruella.”
“And you sure know how to push all my buttons. Which I hate, by the way.”