All I Want

She had no idea what it was about his soft commands that turned her on so much, but there was no denying that she was very, very turned on.

Her skirt was snug and a stretchy material that Parker had no trouble sliding up to her hips. He took in her plain black bikini panties and smiled. “I like.”

“You like everything.”

He chuckled but his eyes stayed hot as he leaned her back on the table, dropping kisses across her shoulders, her breasts, her belly. “You always taste so good,” he whispered against her hip now.

“Parker . . .” Freeing her arms of the cami’s straps with some arm flapping, she reached down and entangled her fingers into his hair.

He lifted his head, eyes glittering. “I’m starving for you, Zoe.”

“First of all, that can’t be true,” she said. “I can see you finished off the muffins. And also it’s been less than twelve hours since we did this.”

“I always save room for dessert, and it feels a lot longer than twelve hours.” He had his fingers spread wide on her legs, his thumbs brushing over the heated skin of her inner thighs, moving higher and higher with each stroke.

“Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you?” he asked, his voice so low as to be nearly inaudible.

With each brush of those callused pads of his thumbs she whimpered and writhed and rocked her hips up for the touch that wouldn’t come. Did she want to know what he was going to do to her? Hell yes. She desperately wanted to know, but she couldn’t formulate a word.

“Still, Zoe,” he warned, and then went on with his story. “First,” he said, “I’m going to make you come with my mouth. Lift up.”

When she did, he slowly pulled her panties down her legs, letting out a low, sexy growl at what he’d exposed.

“Then I’m going to bury myself in deep,” he said, “until you want to rock into me and thrash around, maybe try to claim the control for yourself.”

If she’d had a breath left in her lungs she might have laughed. Or grabbed him down onto the table with her.

“But you’re not going to,” he said, his mouth working its way south. “You’re going to stay still, very still because of your files and my laptop.” He sat on a chair and ran his hands up her thighs again, almost getting all the way to the top this time before stopping.

She slapped her hands down to the table, desperate for something to hold on to.

“Don’t move,” he said. “Not an inch. We’re on borrowed time here and I don’t want to have to stop before you cry out my name.”

“I’m not going to”—she had to pant for breath—“cry out your name. I don’t do that.”

He didn’t argue with her, nor did he talk again for a few minutes. Instead he licked his way to her center, doling out sucking little kisses that drove her wild, but ignoring The Spot until she started to sit up.

The coffee mug next to her, the one so close to the laptop, sloshed a little. Parker’s hands tightened on her thighs, a silent warning. With great effort, she stilled.

Parker went back to his ministrations.

And then he made her cry out his name.





Twenty-two




As Zoe left for work, Parker mentioned he’d be out that night late, and though he didn’t say and she didn’t ask, she knew it was job related. And for a minute, just a minute, she’d let herself entertain the thought of them meshing their lives together. The realities of his job were fairly terrifying, but she could work with that.

What she was starting to realize was that what she couldn’t work with was being without him—a problem. A big one.

At the airport, Joe was all business for their weekly production meeting, but as soon as the room cleared out, he asked Zoe to stay.

Jill Shalvis's books