Page 19

Oh. Oh, I fucked up. I really fucked up.

An easy tell would be the fact that I never leave a wing behind, but suggested we abandon the basket of buffalo chicken as soon as it was clear Parker was done eating. But the real sign of just how much I messed up came from my lap beneath the table.

Either Parker didn’t realize how I was more than half hard after I broke off the kiss, or she was too terrified to point it out. I’m going with former, considering I’ve never known Parker to shy away from anything.

The kiss in the car was one thing, careful on my part, calculated. I felt in total control there. But here? I was barely hanging by a threat. The moment my hand slid down from the small of her back to the beginning of the swell of her ass, I was one fingertip’s length away from saying fuck-it and forget it. Maybe I don’t need to pull out all the stops to show Parker how I feel about her. She could just feel it herself.

But, damn. I couldn’t.

“Are you tired?” I ask as we drive home.

Parker nods, but doesn’t say anything.

I lean back against the headrest when I stop at a red light, blocks away from my apartment. I’m tempted to run it and rush into the garage just so I can get out of this car because the air is so thick, I’ve rolled my window down all the way in case the glass had to shatter to deal with the pressure.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to get carried away back there. I saw that guy filming us and I…” I take a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Even though I wanted to. Even though I want to again.

Parker flings her head toward me. “Shouldn’t have done what?”

“Kiss you,” I say. “Kiss you like that.”

She adjusts in her seat. “You asked if you could kiss me.”

The first time was an exception. But now, I can’t exactly fly off the cuff when it comes to this kind of thing with her.

I clear my throat. “I knew you couldn’t see him, the guy with his phone. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you in that way,” I say, finally mustering up the courage to look at her. “I’d never do that.”

Parker nods, giving a small, appreciative smile. “I wouldn’t have asked you to be involved with me if I ever thought you would. And besides.” She sighs. “I was the one who got carried away, not you.”

Thankfully, we’re at an intersection. I peek over, finding Parker focusing on her lap, picking at what I know is an invisible thread on her black jeans.

“Can I be honest about something?” she asks.

“I hope you’re comfortable enough to.”

“No one has asked to kiss me before.” She stops playing with her hands. “Not like you did.”

I hope no one ever kisses Parker—except me—ever again. “I told you,” I say. “I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage. We both consented to being married, but…things like kissing, I just feel like I need to ask separately.”

Parker looks up at me. “You don’t.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I mean,” she clarifies, “I trust your judgment. If you see an opportunity—” she pauses when her phone chimes from her bag and pulls it out, looking at the screen and smirking.

“What?” I ask.

She brings the phone over so I can see the messages.

MADELINE

There’s no need for the PDA in a sports bar.

You’re a Montgomery. Act like one.

I glance between the windshield—waiting for the light to change—and at the phone while Parker types back.

I’m rehearsing for when I’m a RHODES. I’m learning they’re less discreet.

I snort. “Thanks. Are you calling my family trashy whores?”

Parker smiles, tucking her phone away. “No. You’re just more fun, more real. And, see? That was the right call. So you don’t have to ask. Just…go for it.”

God, I wish I could.

“We’re both adults,” she adds. “I think we can handle it.”

I might be thirty and well into adulthood, but the thing is, Parker somehow has me feeling like I’m not a day over seventeen. So, no, I can’t really handle her warm body squirming in my lap as she opens her mouth against mine. Or at least, not very well. So I make note that I’ve got to be a little more careful about logistics, and I lie, because at this point, what’s adding one more to the pile?

“We can.” I take off when the light turns green, keeping my hands tight on the wheel as I head toward my apartment, turning into the garage. As I pull in, Parker yawns, stretching her arms slightly above her head. “Bowling took a lot out of you, huh?” I ask, pulling up next to my truck. Three seconds later, the black SUV parks next to us.

With Parker’s head against the seat, she turns to me. Her face is peaceful, eyes nearly half-mast, and her mouth relaxed and parted. “Just happy to be home.”

The word home out of her mouth—referring to my place—squeezes my heart.

Parker smiles softly. It would be the perfect place to kiss her, and I let myself wonder what my lips against hers would flow into— god , her scratching my beard, one of my hands in the ends of her hair, the other against the small of her back, sliding up her shirt like I just did an hour ago.

Thankfully Parker turns away, opening the door the moment my cock twitches.

We ride the elevator up in silence with Agent Samuels, and his presence in the small space should be enough to sober me up from my thoughts. After all, he’s the ultimate cock block. In my dreams, he stays far away from us.

I shoot him an evil stare he probably doesn’t deserve when the elevator chimes and the doors open, sticking my hand out to secure the sensor so Parker can exit first. I feel Samuels follow, so I take her hand as we walk down the hall and into the apartment.

“Do they count?” I ask in a whisper as we approach the apartment door where another agent stands. “Will they tell your family they saw us kissing in the hallway?”

“We’ll have to see another time,” she says, and maybe I should be hurt by the rejection, but then she leans her head on my shoulder and, man, that’s how I know I’m wild about this girl. Something as simple, as innocent as this fills my cup. And when she yawns, I swear I feel her nestle a little more against me and that cup over flows.

Opening the door for her, Parker steps out of her shoes, picking them up. “Thanks for a great date, Fitzy.” She stretches on her toes, pressing her lips to my cheek.

Fucked , I think to myself as I clench my fists because all I want is to turn and seek her lips out with mine.

Parker backs away, and turns around, walking past the stairs and into her room.

Beyond fucked , I think to myself as my eyes trail the swell of her ass. My fingertips twitch, angered that they barely skimmed the top of it.

I lift my head to the ceiling and exhale.

I hear the gentle click of the door and toe off my own shoes before I walk upstairs, shutting my door and charging into the bathroom. I turn on the water, and tug my t-shirt up to slip it off, but something stops me taking it off all the way. I say something, because it’s Parker’s scent. Somehow, when she sat in my lap, my front pressed into her, she wove a potion of vanilla and soap that has me in such a chokehold, I nearly suffocate.

Finally, I free myself and fling my hand into the warm water, turning it to cold . Because god damn, I smell bits of myself mixed with hers and it’s got my head spinning and my blood pumping south again.

The smart option would be to get into the shower and let the temperature do its magic.

The better option would be to toss the shirt into the hamper.

I bite my lip hard. “Fuck it.”

Parker has rubbed off on me. And god , do I want to rub off on her.

I turn off the water and quickly unlatch my belt. I’m cursing myself as I go in more ways than one because I’m damning myself to total misery as I conjure up how it would feel to breath this scent straight off her skin instead of through the shirt I bring back to my nose.

But one more inhale, and I’m hard. I wrap my fingers around the base of my cock, stroking upward, a mixture of pleasure and straight up relief from trying to keep myself in check flows through the thick vein at the underside.

“Fuck.”

Folding my left arm against the wall, I lean my forehead on it. The shirt in my hand dangles in my face, giving me fuel, but the truth is, I don’t even need it. I’ve got the taste of Parker on my tongue, the near memory of the weight of her in my lap, and a lifetime of fantasies stockpiled in my mind. I start with something similar to where I am now.

I imagine it’s her forehead I’m leaning against, that it’s her soft hand stroking me as she teases my mouth with soft whispers and light kisses that have me leaning in for something deeper. Her tongue rolls out to invite mine in, but she pulls back, rubbing her nose against mine.

I squeeze my shaft, adding pressure as I stroke up before gliding back down to the base, dreaming of Parker’s smaller, smoother hand, the way she breathes into my mouth, the wicked grin she gives when I whimper as she circles her thumb around the tip. In my mind, I go in for another kiss, but she pulls back.

“If you want me, Fitz.” I hear her say. “ You’re going to have to do better than that.”

So I do. I snatch her up quickly, drawing a surprised yelp from Parker’s mouth before I silence her with my own—but not entirely. There’s still room for those sweet sounds, the breathy moans and fuck, the way she whimpers my name. I don’t have to work to slide into her. That’s how easy we are together. We fit, two pieces of a puzzle. I slide into that pussy like it was made for me, like she was made for me.

I’m racing against myself. My strokes match the pace I take her in my mind, pinning her to the wall, the sounds of her moans accented by the sounds of our bodies slapping together right where it matters.

“Fuck,” I bite into the flesh of my forearm the way I dream of doing to the juncture of Parker’s collarbone and neck. I want her to give every piece of herself to me—her sounds, her body, her fucking soul I’m aching to touch. That’s what I do in my head. I fuck her deeper and deeper, fueled by the way she claws at my back, clutching me closer, wanting me, needing only me.

“Fitz ,” she whimpers. And that’s it, just my name out of her mouth because that’s all Parker wants and needs—me.

I lean back, flinging my arm from the wall down and catching my load in the bunched up t-shirt. Looking up from where I cover and hold the warm, sticky mess, I find myself in the mirror.

You’re totally fucked .