them go away.” I looked away, unable to stare into the blue of his eyes any longer. My own were starting to water. I hadn’t been prepared for this kind of conversation, mentally or emotionally.
“Fair enough,” he said, and I heard him set down his glass. “Deirdre left things for me to heat up. I’ll stick something in the oven to heat while we get some rest. I’m tired and you have to be about dead on your feet.”
He reached for my hand and I let him take it. I was such a wuss. I couldn’t resist touching him, given any opportunity. His hand was big, strong, and capable, and it swallowed mine.
Parker led me to his bedroom and I kicked off my shoes before crawling under the covers. I heard him leave the room and sighed, trying to figure out if I was disappointed or glad that he’d gone to the couch. But before I could decide, he was back, shedding his shirt and climbing into bed next to me. My eyes shot open.
“I thought you went to sleep on the couch?” I asked, eyeing the rippling muscles of his chest and arms. Hugh Jackman as Wolverine came to mind.
“I told you, I was putting dinner in the oven.” He turned on his stomach and stretched his arms underneath the pillow, giving me an absolutely drool-worthy sight of his back. Smooth skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscle and tendon. His shoulders bulged and my fingers itched to touch.
He was facing me but his eyes were closed, which gave me the luxury of memorizing his face. Perfect cheekbones, straight nose, lush lashes that I would have to use three coats of mascara to duplicate, strong jaw, and his thick chestnut hair, that looked good even tousled as it was. Parker was gorgeous and though I’d seen him nearly every day for almost two years, he could still take my breath away.
And I was in his bed.
Albeit under less than ideal circumstances, but the last time I’d been here, I’d chosen to leave and go to Ryker. I wouldn’t be making that same decision again. Ryker was a great guy, but there was no future in the cards for us, not least of which was because my heart was owned by the man doing a really good impression of unconsciousness right next to me.
“Parker?” I whispered.
Nothing.
Wow. I wished I could fall asleep that fast. It took me forever to fall asleep, especially in a bed other than my own…
And that was the last coherent thought I had.
* * *
The gentle clatter of silverware and the smell of something spicy and Italian woke me. I stretched, prying open my eyes when I heard someone step into the room.
Parker, carrying a tray laden with the delicious-smelling food, set it on the end of the bed before sitting next to me.
“I know breakfast is traditional, but I didn’t think you’d mind,” he quipped, taking a drink from one of two glasses of red wine.
I was ravenous, my eyes glued to the steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs.
“Where’s yours?”
He snorted a laugh and I watched closely. Parker with wine coming out of his nose would be a sight worth remembering.
“I thought we’d share, but there’s more if you’re still hungry.”
Sharing seemed a little too intimate for the discussion we’d had earlier, but I was too hungry to care. I grabbed one of the two forks and dug in. One bite and I was in heaven. I moaned.
“I love Deirdre,” I said around a mouthful of the best meatball I’d ever tasted. “You should give her a raise.”
“I already pay her an obscene amount of money as it is,” Parker said, taking the other fork and spearing a bite for himself.
“Worth every penny,” I said, scooping more noodles onto my fork.
We didn’t talk for a few minutes, too busy eating, then we both slowed down at the same time. Pasta was filling and it was only as we were both twining the strands around our forks that it struck me, and I couldn’t stop a laugh.
“What?” Parker asked, looking quizzically at me.
“This,” I said, motioning to us and the plate. “Isn’t this like a
“Fair enough,” he said, and I heard him set down his glass. “Deirdre left things for me to heat up. I’ll stick something in the oven to heat while we get some rest. I’m tired and you have to be about dead on your feet.”
He reached for my hand and I let him take it. I was such a wuss. I couldn’t resist touching him, given any opportunity. His hand was big, strong, and capable, and it swallowed mine.
Parker led me to his bedroom and I kicked off my shoes before crawling under the covers. I heard him leave the room and sighed, trying to figure out if I was disappointed or glad that he’d gone to the couch. But before I could decide, he was back, shedding his shirt and climbing into bed next to me. My eyes shot open.
“I thought you went to sleep on the couch?” I asked, eyeing the rippling muscles of his chest and arms. Hugh Jackman as Wolverine came to mind.
“I told you, I was putting dinner in the oven.” He turned on his stomach and stretched his arms underneath the pillow, giving me an absolutely drool-worthy sight of his back. Smooth skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscle and tendon. His shoulders bulged and my fingers itched to touch.
He was facing me but his eyes were closed, which gave me the luxury of memorizing his face. Perfect cheekbones, straight nose, lush lashes that I would have to use three coats of mascara to duplicate, strong jaw, and his thick chestnut hair, that looked good even tousled as it was. Parker was gorgeous and though I’d seen him nearly every day for almost two years, he could still take my breath away.
And I was in his bed.
Albeit under less than ideal circumstances, but the last time I’d been here, I’d chosen to leave and go to Ryker. I wouldn’t be making that same decision again. Ryker was a great guy, but there was no future in the cards for us, not least of which was because my heart was owned by the man doing a really good impression of unconsciousness right next to me.
“Parker?” I whispered.
Nothing.
Wow. I wished I could fall asleep that fast. It took me forever to fall asleep, especially in a bed other than my own…
And that was the last coherent thought I had.
* * *
The gentle clatter of silverware and the smell of something spicy and Italian woke me. I stretched, prying open my eyes when I heard someone step into the room.
Parker, carrying a tray laden with the delicious-smelling food, set it on the end of the bed before sitting next to me.
“I know breakfast is traditional, but I didn’t think you’d mind,” he quipped, taking a drink from one of two glasses of red wine.
I was ravenous, my eyes glued to the steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs.
“Where’s yours?”
He snorted a laugh and I watched closely. Parker with wine coming out of his nose would be a sight worth remembering.
“I thought we’d share, but there’s more if you’re still hungry.”
Sharing seemed a little too intimate for the discussion we’d had earlier, but I was too hungry to care. I grabbed one of the two forks and dug in. One bite and I was in heaven. I moaned.
“I love Deirdre,” I said around a mouthful of the best meatball I’d ever tasted. “You should give her a raise.”
“I already pay her an obscene amount of money as it is,” Parker said, taking the other fork and spearing a bite for himself.
“Worth every penny,” I said, scooping more noodles onto my fork.
We didn’t talk for a few minutes, too busy eating, then we both slowed down at the same time. Pasta was filling and it was only as we were both twining the strands around our forks that it struck me, and I couldn’t stop a laugh.
“What?” Parker asked, looking quizzically at me.
“This,” I said, motioning to us and the plate. “Isn’t this like a
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