One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(12)

“I don’t think you want to know,” he whispers.

I agree. I definitely don’t want to know.

We’re silent for a long, heated moment, both waiting for the other to say something.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” I blurt, unable to stop myself. I clamp my lips shut as soon as the words are out, instantly regretting my lapse of control.

“Ask you what?” The humor in his stare has heated into something else entirely. “About your little Jane Bond act, with the costume change?”

I swallow my words when he takes another step closer and give a small nod of affirmation.

Two feet left.

“No,” he murmurs. His eyes are fixed on my lips and suddenly my lungs feel too tight, like someone’s sucked all the air out of them. “I’m not going to ask when I know you won’t tell me.”

I don’t say anything, partly because he’s right but mostly because I don’t think I’m capable of coherent words, at the moment.

“You don’t know me. You don’t trust me.” He pauses and I see something in his eyes — the thrill of a challenge. I hear the echo of unspoken words humming in the air between us.

Not yet. But you will someday.

I push the strange thought away.

He takes that final step, until the space between us has all but disappeared. We’re not touching, but our faces are so close if I rise onto my tiptoes we’ll be kissing.

“What are you doing?” I breathe, pressing tight against the wall.

His eyes drag away from my mouth. Our stares clash like swords on a battlefield.

“I’m taking what I want.”

Before I can blink, his mouth claims mine.

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 f*ck 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.