All I Want Read online

  Or not return at all.

  He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

  When he finally pulled up to the house, it was dark and still. He looked at his phone.

  Midnight.

  Damn . . . The implication of Cinderella not being home wasn’t wasted on him. He heaved himself out of the vehicle and headed up the walk.

  He let himself in and out of habit did a quick search of his surroundings.

  Definitely alone.

  Halfway back through the living room toward the kitchen, he became aware that someone was watching him. Reaching for the gun tucked into the back of his jeans was second nature.

  So was checking his surroundings without looking obvious. He heard a sound on the other side of the front door, but either his instincts were seriously off or he was just that fucked up in the head at the moment because he didn’t check the peephole before whipping the door open.

  He had a flash of Joe pulling back from Zoe, who fell backward into Parker’s arms. He shoved the gun into the back of his pants and gripped her arms until she gained her balance.

  He was ridiculously happy to see her because if she was here, it meant she was not in Joe’s bed.

  Joe stood facing them both. Clearly Parker had just interrupted something because the guy was looking frustrated and Zoe was looking . . . relieved?

  “Well,” she said quickly, flashing her fake smile—yes, Parker knew each and every one of her smiles and this one, the brittle fake one aimed at the man who had clearly just pressed her up against the door to kiss her, was most definitely Parker’s new favorite.

  “Thanks for opening the door for me, Parker,” she said brightly. “Night, Joe!”

  “But—” Joe started, taking a step toward her.

  Zoe backed farther into Parker, forcing him to take a step into the house or have them both fall to their asses. She waved at Joe and . . . slammed the door.

  Parker laughed. “Good to know you do that to every guy and not just me.”

  Zoe whirled around to face him, her eyes a little wild as she put her hands on her hips. “What was that?”

  “You slamming the door on yet another man’s nose?”

  “Not that.” She gave him a look that said she was contemplating trying to kick his ass. She wouldn’t be able to, not even close, but it would be fun to have her try . . . Not that he was stupid enough to say so.

  “You followed me,” she accused without preamble. “You followed me on my date.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We were at the bar when you got there,” she said. “What the hell was that about? Why would you follow me?”

  Like he was so hard up he’d actually follow her on purpose?

  Shit, okay, yes, he was totally that hard up. “I didn’t follow you. I was meeting Wyatt and Emily for a late dinner.”

  At this, she made a sound that conveyed volumes on what she thought of him regardless. “If you saw us, why didn’t you stop by and say hi?” he asked, putting the ball back in her court.

  She crossed her arms. “Because . . . because it was a date,” she said. “I didn’t need to hang out with my brother on a date.”

  Or you, were the unspoken words.

  “How did it go with Joe?” he asked, wondering if he was a complete ass for hoping it had sucked.

  She didn’t answer. Which meant it hadn’t gone well. He tried to feel bad about that but he didn’t. Not even a little bit. “We made it an early night,” she said.

  “Because of your dress?”

  “Oh my God,” she snapped and brushed past him, shoulder-checking him as she went through the living room ahead of him. “You’re impossible. I don’t know why I even try to have a conversation with you.”

  He had no idea, either. He was a complete asshole.

  “What was that in your hand when you opened the door?” she asked.

  “My hand?”

  “You tucked something into the back of your jeans,” she said. “Was it . . . a gun?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She rolled her eyes, pissed at the world and most definitely him, too. She stalked off.

  Then suddenly she stopped short, stared down at her feet for a beat, and then turned back. She came toe to toe with him, hands on her hips, to stare at him.

  He met her gaze. She was clearly seriously ticked, and since he had some strong self-preservation instincts, he held his silence.

  Finally, she sighed. “Listen,” she said. “I need to do something. Like, to you.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Just go with it.” And she fisted her hands in his shirt, hauled him down to her level, and kissed him.

  WTF, his brain said. Oh yeah, his body said, taking all of one nanosecond to get on board. Somehow he managed to hold himself perfectly still because this was her show. But Christ, she’d taken him straight to heaven, pressing her soft, beautiful body in close, murmuring something that sounded like, “Dammit, no man should smell so good, ever . . .” before deepening the connection and kissing the living daylights out of him.

  He moved then; he couldn’t help it. His arms came around her, one of his palms sliding to the nape of her neck to hold her in place. The kiss detonated: a hot, intense tangle of tongues and teeth, one of those raw hot kisses that was so real, so in the moment that he lost every single thought in his head. Well, except one, which was Holy shit hotness, Batman. “Zoe,” he heard himself growl, and in response she shivered in his arms and tightened her grip on him before slowly pulling back. “What?” he managed to ask.

  “Your phone’s ringing.”

  He hadn’t even noticed. He was hard as a rock and yep, his phone was indeed ringing, although not as loudly as they were both breathing. Pulling back, he glanced down at the ID screen just as the phone stopped ringing. He’d missed a call from Amory. He blew out a breath and met Zoe’s gaze.

  “You get a lot of calls,” she said. “From women.”

  He could have told her Sharon was his boss and Amory his sister, but he didn’t. For one, his equilibrium was off and he never dealt with that well. And maybe it would be best if she thought he was a player. No way would she fall for a player.

  His own personal insurance policy.

  He always kept his worlds all carefully compartmentalized, each division in its own little box. His family and all that went with them in one box. Work in another.

  He needed a whole new box for Zoe . . .

  She took a step back from him. “Not that I’m keeping track or anything,” she said. “Your life’s your life. The three W’s and all that, right?”

  He suddenly wished he’d kept his mouth shut about the three W’s. “Why did you kiss me?” he asked, his voice unintentionally thick and husky.

  “I was trying to figure something out.”

  “Yeah? And what was that?”

  She stared at him and slowly shook her head. “Never mind. My fault. I muddied the waters.” She started to walk away and then turned back. “No, you know what? This is all your fault. You and your stupid sexy smile.”

  “Wait— What’s all my fault?”

  She blew out a breath. “Everything!”

  “Perfect,” he said. “Thanks for clearing that up for me.”

  “Hmph,” she said, and vanished upstairs.

  Fifteen

  Zoe lectured herself through her nighttime routine. That was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid . . . Kissing him had been so stupid. Because she’d started out in perfect control but he’d wrenched that from her with ease as he’d taken over her kiss . . . God.

  What had she been thinking?

  Nope, scratch that. She knew exactly what she’d been thinking, that she’d needed to compare Joe’s perfectly nice—and very short—kiss to Parker’s perfectly not-nice kiss. Granted, Parker’s kisses were a lot of things—panty-melting, heart-attack-inducing, sensually charged among them—but “nice” wasn’t one of them.

  An