I make a sound of surprise, but it’s lost as soon as our lips touch. He’s everywhere, all over me — invading my senses, stealing my breath. His hands pull me close, cup my face, slide into my hair, touching me in all the places he can reach as if his desperate fingers can’t decide where to linger. I’m stunned to find I’m just as ravenous – plastering my front to his, winding my arms around his neck, sliding my fingers through his thick, gorgeous, golden hair until it’s messy, like I wanted to the first time I saw him.
Some distant part of my brain is screaming this is crazy, reminding me I don’t even know this man, but I can’t hear it over the rush of desire flooding my veins. I can’t help myself.
Maybe I lived on the streets too long — learned the hard way that good things don’t come easy. Ever. If someone hands you a dollar bill, you grab it and don’t look back. You want something, you take it before it slips away.
And, for some inexplicable reason, what I want right now is him. This infuriating, entitled, egotistical playboy whose easy jokes don’t quite reach his eyes.
It’s just sex. Just lust, I tell myself. You want it.
So… take it.
I pull him closer, my leg slipping out the slit in my dress to wind around the back of his thighs as my hands grip his shoulders to get better leverage. Feeling my response, he makes a rough sound as his tongue seeks entrance to my mouth. I open for him without hesitation. Our mouths collide with such heat I forget to breathe, to think, to do anything except press closer to him.
There’s a terrifying edge of familiarity to this kiss — as though we’ve kissed a thousand times before, as though our mouths were made to fit together for only this purpose.
Not for speaking or eating or breathing.
Kissing.
I’m filled with need, a devouring, deep-rooted desire that surpasses the fact that we’re strangers, that he doesn’t even know my name, that I’m relatively sure we don’t even like each other. Desire trumps it all, threading through me until I don’t care about any of the reasons I shouldn’t be making out with a stranger in a dingy bathroom.
The straps of my dress fall down my shoulders with a flick of his fingers. His hips pin me roughly against the wall, so hard I can’t move, and I’m shocked to find I like it, shocked to find I want more.
More pressure, more weight, more Parker.
I’ve never liked to lose control. Never been the meek little girl in missionary position.
Oh, yes, let me lie here subdued while you fuck me.
Sex, like life, is about power. I don’t relinquish mine in either the business world or the bedroom. My previous partners have learned quickly — try to domineer me and you’ll find yourself blue-balled so hard, you’ll look like an extra in Avatar.
But this is different. There’s something about him that breaks every single one of my rules.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that he doesn’t know me, that he’ll never see me after this moment… or maybe it’s just him.
I don’t care.
All I know is, he could have me any way he wanted and I’d like it. Up against a wall, flat on my back, driving in from behind. It’s an addictive feeling. An adrenaline rush.
I pull him closer, until his frame dwarfs me completely, and abruptly find myself kissing empty air as he tears his lips from mine and moves them to my neck.
“I don’t even know your name,” he mutters against my skin as his hands move inside the bodice of my dress, beneath my bra.
Dear god, I’m going to come undone and he’s barely touched me.
“Does it matter?” I ask, craning to give him better access.
Something about that question touches a nerve. He goes still and lifts his head so our eyes meet. I don’t know him well enough to put a name on the emotion in their hazel depths. I feel dazed, my lips still tingling from his kisses as I stare up at him. His thumb moves to brush my bottom lip, as if he can’t quite help himself.
“It matters,” he says quietly. “I’m not fucking you for the first time in a bathroom stall. In fact, I’m not fucking you anywhere except my bed for the foreseeable future.”
The way he says that — with such certainty, like there’s no doubt in his mind we’ll be doing this again — sends alarm bells ringing inside my head.
Common sense returns in a flash.
What the hell are you doing? my brain is screaming at me. You aren’t the kind of girl who gets carried away because of… what? Lust? The promise of a good fuck? You’re here on a job. Get your head out from between your legs and get the hell out of here.
“I have to go,” I say, pushing against his chest and sliding past him before he has a chance to corner me again. By the time he’s turned around, I’ve already crouched to retrieve my backpack and pulled it from the cabinet beneath the sink.
“Go?” His voice is full of disbelief. “I just had you pinned to a wall, with your hands in my hair and your tongue in my mouth. Darling, where exactly do you think you’re going? If the answer isn’t my place, you need to rethink it.”
“Listen, this was…” I trail off, fighting a blush as I slide the strap of my backpack up over one shoulder and edge toward the exit door. “This was…”
“Hot as hell?” Parker supplies.
I shake my head.
“Not nearly enough?” he suggests.
Another head shake. God, I’m actually blushing. Like a virginal little schoolgirl.
What the hell is this guy doing to me?