Page 58 of Parker

For days, he’d been praying to hear those exact words. And at night he’d dreamed she had.

Working nearly around the clock to find something that would lead him to the man who’d broken into Quinn’s home had helped. As had the multitude of phone calls, emails, and texts he received on a daily basis pertaining to his company.

I don’t want that to be my life anymore.

Parker didn’t know what had come over him. He’d been thinking of selling for a while now, but before today, he’d never spoken the declaration out loud. Not to himself or Sydnee.

Only her.

Quinn released a soft, throaty moan as she framed his face with both hands. Following her lead—because she was one hundred percent in charge, whether she knew it or not—he bent down, pulled her into his arms, and lifted her off her feet.

She gasped, her hands flying reflexively to his shoulders to keep from falling backward as her long, toned legs locking around him with ease.

I’ll never let you fall, sweetheart. Fucking. Never.

Deepening the kiss, the strokes of Parker’s tongue grew feverish with need. “Bed or couch?” He panted after finally coming up for air.

Because they were damn sure headed to one or the other.

“Bed,” Quinn responded without hesitation. “More room to maneuver.”

“Always knew you were a smart woman.” The low rumble of his laughter was lost in their kiss, his words intermittently broken by the touch of their lips as he began walking them through the foyer and toward the hallway.

If she wanted room to maneuver, his California king would do the trick.

Parker held his precious cargo tight against his body as he moved. Keeping the occasional eye out to avoid running them into a wall—or tripping over one of the three accent tables his interior decorator had insisted “made” the narrow space—his focus was split between keeping Quinn safe and relishing in the feel of her in his arms.

Lips against his. Covered breasts pressing against his chest. And the heat from her core…

It was right there, radiating from behind those thin, tempting-as-hell leggings. Even now, fully clothed, Parker could feel how much she wanted him. And suddenly, he couldn’t get to his bedroom fast enough.

Can’t. Fucking. Wait!

They reached the end of the hall. With one hand holding Quinn close and the other cupping the back of her head, he continued to kiss, nibble, and taste as he lifted a foot and pushed open the partially ajar double-door.

Parker stepped into the master suite. Using that same foot to kick the door shut behind him, he made his way across the open space to the awaiting bed centered on the wall to his right.

His footfalls were silenced as the soles of his boots landed on the plush rug beneath the bed. The woman in his arms opened her eyes. He watched and waited, his own insecurities rising to the surface as he prayed history wasn’t about to repeat itself.

It won’t. She’s different than the others, remember?

She was, but even with her held tightly in his arms, Parker couldn’t keep those intrusive thoughts from weaving their way in.

The women he’d brought to his home in the past—and he could count on one hand the times that had happened—this was the moment when things would change. And it was always the same.

Things would be going great. They’d heat up and move into the privacy of his bedroom. He’d shut the door and get them here, and then… they’d start to look around.

Like clockwork, they’d grow wide-eyed and slack-jawed, spending the next several minutes going on and on about the windows and view. They’d move on to the expensive light fixture centered above his massive bed…and the corner fireplace.

Even the area rug protecting the tile from the bed’s frame interested them more than Parker.

And almost as if he could set his watch to it, they’d always,alwaysmake a comment about how much it all must’ve cost.

But Quinn didn’t look at any of those things.

Not the sizeable room or wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. She didn’t turn toward the impressive fireplace or ridiculously large flat-screen, nor the luxurious chaise with the million-dollar view.

The woman in his arms—the woman inthismoment—only had eyes for him.

---