“Let go, Zoe,” he said, his mouth working its way to her other breast. “I’ve got this.”
She choked out a laugh at how he’d used her own words against her, and melted for him. The morning air was cool and should have chilled her bare skin, but Parker had his torso pressed into hers, and heat poured off his large body. Threading his fingers in her hair, he tipped her face up so he could kiss her as thoroughly as he wanted.
And apparently that was very thoroughly.
She was breathless in seconds, clinging to him, panting, whimpering for more as she explored his arms, his chest, everything she could reach.
He continued to do the same, kissing his way over her shoulder and collarbone, and then back to a breast where he once again drew a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and her eyes rolled back in her head a little. Realizing she had her hands fisted in his hair pulling hard, she tried to let up. “Sorry,” she gasped.
She felt Parker’s lips curve, and when he shook his head, silently telling her no worries, the gentle rasp of the stubble along his jaw made her moan for more.
This time his soft laugh huffed against a breast.
“Not funny,” she managed, wanting to give back as good as she was getting, her hands skimming over the smooth muscles of his back, her fingertips searching out every ridge, every dip and sleek line of sinew. When she’d made it to his hips, she kept going into the back of his sweats, grabbing his very fine ass as she spread her legs wider and rocked into him.
At that same moment, he slid a finger into her and groaned along with her. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he rasped.
“For me to grab your ass?”
“For you to be ready for me.”
She’d been ready for him at first sight, not that she was about to admit that. “Well, you’ve got it now,” she whispered, and then nipped at his throat. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Plenty.” He kissed her hard and long before pulling free. When she mewled in protest, he flashed her a smile and hooked a foot in one of her chairs, dragging it toward him.
“What—”
“Shh,” he murmured, and dropped into the chair and then leaned in to run his mouth up her inner thigh. When the material of her thin boxers thwarted him, he merely scooped them to the side. “Oh Christ, Zoe. You’re so wet.” Then he put his mouth on her and in less than two minutes she was nearly to that orgasm she’d been hoping for, so . . . very . . . close . . . as he held her there on the very thin precipice . . .
And then . . .
Her cell phone rang.
As it was plugged in on the counter right behind her, the ring nearly startled her heart right out of her chest.
“Ignore it,” he said against her, and did something especially wicked with his tongue that made her forget the phone and cry out.
And then he did it again and just like that she was back on the very edge, her toes curled, her muscles trembling, her entire body tight and—
The house phone rang this time, obnoxiously loud, and she lost her place. “Dammit!” She pulled him up and let out a breath when what she really wanted to do was cry.
But ignoring a phone call went against the grain. She didn’t get all that many calls, and some of the ones she’d received in the past few years had been life-changing. The news of the car accident that had nearly killed Darcy, for one. “I’m sorry,” she said, breathing like a lunatic—or like a woman who hadn’t gotten lucky in far too long. And damn, she’d been sooooo close. “I have to at least look.”
Parker pulled back, his hair tousled from her fingers, his eyes liquid jade, torso bare, sweats untied and sagging low thanks to her wandering fingers, his breathing not any more even than hers.
She wanted to jump his bones, but instead she slid off the counter and pulled her top back on before pointing at him. “Remember where we were,” she said.