Playing Dirty (Risky Business, #2)(52)

I only wished I could tell my body that because wow, was it ever throwing a party at being in this position. My heart was racing and heat curled low in my belly as Parker braced himself above me, leaning down until our chests were almost touching.

“If someone is going to rape you,” he said, “this is how they’ll be. Close and in your face. There won’t be much space between you.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. It was all I could do not to wrap my legs around his waist, for crying out loud. Which would be bad bad bad.

“So here’s what you’ll do,” he began. “Twist your hips to the side and leave the opposite foot on the floor. The other foot is going to go on my hip.” He put his hands on my hips and legs, twisting me to show me what I should do. I forced my mind to concentrate. “Once you have some space, kick with your feet. Aim for the chin. It doesn’t matter how big the guy is, you nail him under the chin, he’s going down. Trust me.”

He moved my hands. “If you can, lock your elbows and put your hands on my shoulders. Not my chest, but my shoulders.”

Parker’s shoulders were wide and hard underneath my palms. His body was wedged between my thighs and I could feel parts of him I shouldn’t nestled against parts of me that were barely covered by my too-small shorts.

“Now lock your elbows,” he said. “Or else I can just overpower you, like this.” He pushed against me until my arms gave out and his chest rested against mine.

Our gazes caught and I couldn’t look away, their blue so deep and clear and framed by thick lashes I’d kill for.

He froze, too. Against my will, my body relaxed, sending a message I had no business sending. My hips cradled his and my hands on his shoulders drifted to his arms, the biceps hard and flexed underneath my fingers. His response was immediate, pressing between my legs against my core. Arousal had danced in my veins since we’d started this whole thing, and now it flared to life.

“You’re not fighting me,” he said in a low voice.

I scrambled for what to say. “I, um, I guess I’m just tired.” Which would’ve been a totally valid excuse … if my voice hadn’t sounded take-me-to-bed-or-lose-me-forever.

Parker’s eyes darkened and his gaze dropped to my mouth. He was hard between my legs and I was enjoying the feel of him way too much.

“We should go,” I blurted. “Or we’ll be late to that-that fundraiser … thing.”

His eyes met mine again and for a moment he didn’t respond. Then he was suddenly on his feet and pulling me up off the floor in one smooth move.

“I’m going to shower,” he said. “My tux is in the car. I’ll change at your place. Give me ten minutes, okay? Don’t go anywhere without me.”

My head was spinning from the abrupt change in topic and what had just happened. “Um, yeah, okay.”

He waited a beat, his eyes searching mine for … I didn’t know what. I smiled brightly.

“Thanks for the lesson, by the way,” I said. “It was, uh, really helpful. I hope I never have to use any of that stuff.” I gave a halfhearted laugh.

But Parker didn’t smile back. “Me too.”

I watched as he disappeared into the men’s locker room before hightailing it to the women’s to get dressed in my work clothes again. I didn’t bother with the nylons and was waiting for Parker only a couple of minutes before he came back out. This time he had damp hair and smelled like soap and fresh cologne. He’d put his slacks and shirt back on, but hadn’t bothered with the jacket or tie, and he carried a duffel bag.

“Let’s go,” he said, glancing at his watch.

He drove us to my apartment and by now it was full dark. I had a good hour before the fundraiser started, but knew it would take every minute of that time to get ready. So I hit the door running.

“Make yourself at home,” I said, dropping my purse and coat on the kitchen table. “I’ll hurry.”

“Take your time,” he said. “Fashionably late works for me.” He’d brought in a garment bag that I assumed held his tux.

I showered in record time and blew my hair dry. I needed to figure out what I was wearing before I did my makeup, so I stepped out of the bathroom … only to stop short at the sight of Parker standing in my bedroom.

He was dressed in his tux and stood with his back to me in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of my bedroom. I was suddenly glad I’d taken the time to make my bed this morning.

He must’ve heard me because he turned around and I was abruptly aware that I was still wrapped in a peach towel.

Parker cleared his throat and took a few steps toward me. “I was messing with this tie,” he said with a sheepish grimace. “Bow ties don’t like me.”

That’s when I noticed the length of black silk around his neck. It was obvious he’d tried tying it several times as the fabric was slightly wrinkled.

“I can do it,” I said automatically, reaching up to take the fabric between my fingers. That’s when I realized what a bad idea that was.

Being so close to him wearing nothing but a towel was trouble waiting to happen, but it wasn’t like I could back out now. I ignored the way he was watching me and prayed he wouldn’t look down to see my breasts about to pop out above the towel. Concentrating, I began tying, the loops and method drilled into me by my mother, who thought that “all ladies should know how to properly knot a man’s tie.”