All I Want Read online

  “For good reason,” she managed, trying not to stare at his mouth and failing miserably. His lips were somehow both firm and soft, and he always tasted good. So yeah . . .

  At her scrutiny, those sexy lips curved. “I bet you have all sorts of rules in bed, too,” he said.

  She had no idea how in the world he managed it, but with him she always felt a whole lot aroused and just a little bit pissy at the same time. It was a special talent of his.

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding amused and not at all surprised. “You do. You have rules in bed.”

  “I don’t.” She hesitated. “Well, maybe a few,” she admitted. Hey, it was just common sense to have rules.

  He laughed softly, the sound sliding through her belly and heading directly south. Dammit.

  “Maybe that’s why your dates aren’t working out,” he said.

  “My dates are working out just fine, thank you.”

  “Yeah?” he asked. “Did you get laid last night?”

  She squirmed. Joe had made it clear that sex was absolutely on the table and up for discussion. She’d made it just as clear that it wasn’t going to happen.

  But she did want to be with someone. She wanted that quite badly. Just not with Joe.

  Parker grinned. “I rest my case.”

  “Hey,” she said. “I could have . . . with Joe. If I’d wanted to.” But the amused doubt on Parker’s face really did her in. “I could call him back right now even,” she said.

  He slid his gaze over her blanket—The Little Mermaid—from her head to the tips of her toes and smirked.

  “Well, I wouldn’t be in this blanket,” she said. “I’d change. And not into the bingo dress, either. I’m retiring the bingo dress.”

  “What have you got instead?”

  “Plenty,” she reported. “I have a little black dress, for one.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “That and some fuck-me pumps would do it. You’ve got great legs.”

  She did her best not to flush with pleasure because she did not care one bit that he liked her legs. Correction: She didn’t want to care. “It’s not all about physical attraction,” she said.

  “No kidding,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh as he looked her over again.

  She narrowed her eyes. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Babe, you’re covered in that blanket from head to toe, and I bet beneath it your pj’s are flannel and baggy. That should be a turnoff but I’m not even close to being turned off.”

  She stopped breathing. “You’re not?”

  “Nope.” He lowered his head so that his breath warmed her neck. He stayed still for a beat, ratcheting up the anticipation within her so tight that when he finally spoke, just the brush of his lips moving against her throat made her damp.

  “Back to your bedroom rules,” he murmured.

  She huffed out a laugh that sounded nervous even to her own ears. Probably because she suddenly was.

  And unbalanced.

  So very, very unbalanced.

  To try to ground herself she leaned into his solid chest.

  “Tell me one,” he said, those lips of his still ghosting over her throat with each syllable. “Slowly and in great detail.”

  She stopped a helpless moan from escaping. “No.”

  He rubbed his jaw to hers like he was a cat, a big, sleek cat. “Want me to guess?” he asked.

  She meant to give him a shove, but her hands were still entangled in her blanket. “You don’t know me well enough to guess.”

  “You don’t want anything too intense,” he said, ignoring that. “Get in, get out, and if you get an orgasm out of it, you consider yourself lucky.”

  She’d be totally insulted if his words weren’t deadly accurate. “I’m not that uptight,” she said.

  He gave a soft, sexy laugh.

  “You were wrong when you said I had the smart mouth,” she said. “You’re the one with a smart mouth.”

  “Maybe kissing it would help contain the sarcasm,” he suggested, and this time his mouth was at her ear, drawing a shudder out of her. Somehow her hands had separated from her brain and dropped the blanket.

  He looked down at her tiny boxer shorts and thin white cami.

  “I stand corrected,” he said roughly.

  Smug, and also unbearably aroused, her hands slid down his chest.

  And then back up.

  Unable to handle the onslaught of all the emotions—hunger, desire, need, and a yearning that weakened her knees—she couldn’t hold back her moan this time.

  “You’re sweet,” he murmured.

  “No, I’m—”

  “Shh,” he said, and kissed her just beneath her ear. “You’re also fierce,” he went on. “Loyal. Tough . . .”

  She heard another moan. Still her.

  Parker sucked her earlobe into his mouth and then gently sank his teeth into her and gave a little tug.

  She gasped and would’ve slid to the floor if he hadn’t lifted her to the counter. He did it casually, easily, and then with a palm on each thigh, he pushed open her legs.

  And then he made himself at home between them.

  “But one thing you’re most definitely not,” he said, “is uptight.” And then his mouth covered hers.

  Sixteen

  The kiss blew Zoe’s socks off. It was so easy to get lost in the promise of what he offered: no wondering, wishing, worrying . . . Wrapped up tight in him as she was, she felt tempted. She also felt feminine and powerful and oh so ready for whatever came next . . .

  But then he pulled back.

  Reflexively she tightened her hold on him, and with one hand in his hair and the other spread wide over a deliciously bare pec, she stared up at him, confused. “Are we stopping?”

  His gaze shifted from her mouth to her eyes, and the corners of his sexy mouth tilted up into a wolf grin that dripped with pure male sex appeal. “Your choice,” he said, and cupped the nape of her neck as he brushed his lips against her temple. Then her jaw. The corner of her mouth. “Whatever you want, Zoe.”

  Whatever she wanted? She wanted him, now. “The kittens,” she murmured.

  “Fell asleep.”

  She craned her neck to see around him. Oreo had fallen asleep on his bed in the corner of the kitchen, and unbelievably the two little kittens had done the same, cuddled up next to him like he was their mama.

  Tilting his head, Parker began a new assault on her senses as he worked his way along her jaw.

  “So what is it you want?” he asked, lightly sinking his teeth into her earlobe.

  His low voice rumbled from his chest through hers, and she sucked in a breath trying to take it all in. The warmth of his touch on her skin, the hunger in his voice, the invitation in his words . . . He stood between her spread legs, his tough body hard against all her soft spots. What did she want? A man-made orgasm would be a good start . . .

  “Tell me,” he said, voice low and just a little rough.

  She lifted her head and met his gaze.

  He flashed a smile. “Me,” he said. “You want me.”

  God help her, she did. But she could de-lust her brain enough to roll her eyes at his ridiculous cockiness. “A little sure of yourself?”

  He laughed softly, and she was just about to clock him for it when he said, “Babe, with you, I’m more unsure than I’ve ever been.”

  The confession, uttered with a hint of bewilderment and one-hundred-percent honesty, had the knot loosening in her chest. Were they really on equal ground here?

  “Say it,” he said with soft command, holding her gaze prisoner.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  He didn’t gloat. He just let out a breath of what she chose to believe was relief before pulling back enough to look at her, really look at her. Clearly he wasn’t into instant gratification at the moment because he didn’t move, just appeared to really enjoy his view.

  But she was wanting some instant gratification, bad, and reached for the tie