Page 12 of The No Touch Roommate Rule (That Steamy Hockey Romance #2)

Chapter

Seven

MAKENA

H is mouth is on mine, and I’m gone.

No thoughts. No regrets. Just heat and pressure and the taste of Slim Jim and mandarin orange liqueur as Parker kisses me like the world’s ending, and I’m the last thing he wants on his tongue.

And God, I want him back. Want him with a ferocity that burns straight through every rule and reason I swore I would keep my hands to myself around this man.

Who the fuck was I kidding?

This was inevitable. From the second Parker scooped me up and hurled me into his truck like my own personal superhero, we were destined to have hot sex in a public bathroom.

Okay, maybe not the public bathroom part, but the sex part.

Maybe, if at any time in the past five days, he’d shown some sign that he wasn’t still the same sweet boy I once knew, all grown up, things would have been different.

But he didn’t.

He’s actually a good guy.

And I’m about to be very, very bad.

I press closer, but it’s not enough. Never enough.

Nearly a week of watching him limp around shirtless and sexy as hell after his morning workout, of catching him staring at my ass in the garden, of cold showers that did nothing to cool the heat building between us—it’s all combusting at once.

My hands are everywhere, sliding under his shirt to find warm skin and solid muscle, mapping the territory I’ve been fantasizing about since I forced myself to run away from him after the wedding.

I had reasons for running, obviously.

Good reasons…

I just can’t remember any of them now.

His tongue strokes against mine again—slower now, deep, deliberate, devastating. He kisses the way he moves on the ice—like he knows exactly where he’s going and how to get there, but he’s savoring the glide.

The game.

I arch into him, shameless, chasing more, and he gives it. One hand fists in my hair, the other grips my ass, dragging me closer to the thick ridge straining against his cargo shorts.

His teeth graze my lower lip, and then he’s kissing me again, harder this time. Like he wants to melt every last boundary between us with his mouth.

His crutches clatter to the floor—hopefully not into anything too biologically hazardous—as he flips our positions, giving me my turn against the wall. The fake wood paneling is cold against my back, but Parker is a furnace against my front. The contrast makes me shiver.

“Cold?” he murmurs against my throat.

“Burning up,” I correct, proving it by grinding against his erection.

He makes a sound—half growl, half laugh—that shoots straight to my clit. “We can’t fuck in this bathroom.”

“Of course not,” I agree, even as I fumble with his belt, desperate to get my hands on him.

But the angle is all wrong. I shift to one side, flinching as I come face-to-face with a squirrel in a leather vest and spiked collar. “Oh my God, why?” I bleat, heart racing as I quickly slide back the other way.

Parker shrugs. “I don’t know. I thought it was a biker theme at first, but maybe it’s bondage? There’s one with a ball gag by the soap dispenser.”

I shift my gaze, eyes widening. “There sure is.”

“And pretty sure a couple of squirrels are getting spanked in the display above the changing table.”

“How did you have time to notice all that?” I ask, returning to my work on his belt. “I gave you two seconds before I kissed your face off.”

“What can I say? I’m an observant guy,” he says, his lips hooking up on one side. “And I’m observing that you’re having a little trouble with my belt. Been a while since you got a man out of his pants, baby girl?”

I shoot him a mock glare. “No, I got you out of yours just the other night. Maybe if you’d lean back and quit crushing me, I’d have an easier time, baby boy .”

“No baby girl, then?” he asks, still smirking.

“Not unless you want to lose a finger.”

“Why would I lose a finger, F.C.? Are you going to bite it off?”

“F.C.?” I echo.

“Feisty Critter,” he says as he leans back, granting me better access, but summoning a pained expression to his face in the process.

Guilt stills my eager critter fingers. “Are you okay? Should we stop? This can’t be good for your knee.”

“Don’t you dare stop. My knee is fine,” he says, then proves it by lifting me off my feet.

“Parker!” I protest, but my legs wrap around his waist automatically, and oh…

Oh .

This angle is…educational. He’s even bigger—thicker—than I thought. So big we might have a little trouble at first.

But I like trouble.

It’s one of my many potentially fatal flaws.

“Put me down, and I’ll turn around,” I murmur against his lips as he kisses me again. “From behind will be easier on your leg.”

“I don’t want easy,” he says, rolling his hips in a way that makes me see stars.

“If I wanted easy, I wouldn’t have spent seven months obsessing over a woman who swore I didn’t have a chance with her.

” He bites my lip hard enough to make my pussy throb before pulling back to meet my gaze.

“And our first time isn’t going to be from behind.

I’m going to look right into those big, blue eyes while I fill every inch of you.

I want to see your face when you’re coming on my cock with my name on your lips. ”

“God, you’re so…” My head falls back against the wall as his mouth finds my throat again. “So good at dirty talk. How did you get so good? I didn’t dirty talk like that until I was at least twenty-eight.”

“Liar,” he whispers before sucking hard enough on my neck to leave a mark.

“No, it’s true.” My hands are in his hair—fisting, tugging the way I’ve wanted to all week. The sexy smell of him rises all around me, making my head spin. “I’m still not very good at it. The only thing I can think to say right now, for example, is that I’m not sure I’ve ever been this wet.”

He groans against my skin, and I feel it everywhere. Feel it in places that haven’t been properly touched in so long, I was starting to think they’d atrophied.

But they haven’t.

Thank God, and Leo Parker.

“I need to feel you,” he murmurs against my collarbone. “Been thinking about fucking you with my fingers every time you wiggled past me in those evil yoga pants.”

“They’re not evil.”

“They’re a crime against the roommate code.” His teeth scrape against my pulse point. “And my dick. I’ve been hard for you pretty much constantly. Was that part of your master plan to drive me absolutely fucking crazy?”

“Says the guy who keeps walking around with his shirt off and all his sexy muscles out, even though we promised we wouldn’t—oh God. Damn, Parker.” I gasp as his hand slips under my tank top.

His thumb brushes over my nipple through my bra, activating a direct line to my clit that’s so intense, I’m instantly trembling.

“So sensitive,” he rumbles, his voice going even deeper as he begins to rock against me through our clothes. “I knew you would be. I can’t wait to get my mouth on every inch of you, F.C. I’m going to edge you until you apologize profusely for making us both wait so long to get naked together.”

“I had my reasons,” I pant, clinging to him as he dry humps me with a skill that leaves no doubt, he’s going to deliver in the bedroom.

“You had a case of scaredy-cat-itis.”

“Shut up,” I shoot back, afraid it’s at least partly true.

“Make me.”

So, I do. I kiss him like I’ve been wanting to all week—desperate and dirty. He kisses me back, hard and deep, as he spins us away from the wall.

I hear something crash to the ground—sorry, ball-gag squirrel?—before I’m suddenly resting on a solid surface.

I glance back to see the changing table beneath my ass and wrinkle my nose.

“This is probably a biohazard,” I point out, even as I cup Parker’s face.

“This entire bathroom is a biohazard.” He glances up at the bondage rodents on the shelf above my head.

“Not to mention kinky as fuck. Speaking of kink…” He leans in, rolling his hips again, making me sigh and scoot forward on the table, desperate for the friction.

“What’s your kink, Mack? Bondage? Spanking? I know it’s not younger men, so…”

“Don’t remind me,” I say, working open the buttons on his shirt. “Honestly, not sure. What about you?” I bite my lip, but can’t resist adding with a smirk, “Aside from women who used to change your diapers, of course.”

“You wish, brat,” he says, transforming my laugh to a moan as he swats the side of my ass.

“That hurt a little,” I murmur, my nipples so hard they’re starting to hurt, too. “But I liked it.”

“I could tell, baby. Fuck, everything shows on your face.” His other hand traces patterns on my inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where I need him.

“And you’re probably going to show how pissed you are in a second, too, because there’s no way I’m fucking you in this bathroom.

It’s just too gross. And you’re too fine for gross. ”

The horny hope balloon in my chest deflates, but I get it, I really do.

I’m about to tell him so when he adds, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t get you off.” His thumb traces so close to where I’m throbbing, I want to scream. “Would that be okay?”

“So okay,” I say, gasping as he finally cups me between my legs. My hips jerk forward, seeking more pressure, more friction, more everything.

“So fucking wet,” he groans. “I can feel you through your jeans, Mack. You’re soaking through your clothes all for me?”

“All for you,” I assure him, clinging to his shoulders as his palm rocks against my clit through the fabric. “Don’t stop,” I beg, the last shred of dignity out the window. “Please don’t stop.”

“Never.” He finds a rhythm that makes my eyes roll back. “Been wanting to touch you like this since you ran away from me last fall.” He finds the perfect angle, the perfect pressure, and soon, I’m grinding against his hand like a teenager at prom.

My hands fumble for his zipper, needing to give him what he’s giving me, needing to feel him.

“No, baby, I?—”

“Fair’s fair,” I cut in as I finally work his shorts open. And holy hell… “Jesus, Parker.”