EIGHTEEN
Parker
I punchthe code into the elevator access panel in Nessa’s building, the same one you use for her door. I didn’t bother to call or text her that I’m here, albeit a bit early. Once Vanessa left my house, everything became too quiet, too empty, and I found I was not a fan of it. The fact that I’d missed a solid week of work, choosing to finish out my week at home instead of heading into the office seemed like the right idea. That might change if Nessa doesn’t go home with me tonight. My mind kept wandering back to earlier this morning, waking up with Vanessa in my arms, not a stitch of clothing between us. It didn’t take much to lift her leg on top of my thigh, spreading her open and sliding in. She was yet to be fully awake. That didn’t mean I wasn’t willing to take advantage, and take advantage is exactly what I did. Fucking Vanessa lazily until she was awake, on the brink of coming, my hand full of her tit as I pinched her nipple, her body arching before finally crashing over the edge. Only then did I pull out. I hated that I was losing her heat, wanting to come inside her, but birth control was yet to be talked about, and no way was I taking the option away from her.
It doesn’t take the elevator long to take me up to her floor. No one was in the small, enclosed space with me, a small favor, since I have to make sure my suit jacket is covering my hard cock. The sound dings, the doors open, and I’m stepping off to take the short walk towards the end of the hall. I type in the passcode again. Stupid fucking things. It’s like asking for someone to walk into your place a fuck ton easier than a normal key would make it.
“Damn it,” I grumble beneath my breath when the door opens, meaning she doesn’t have the second lock in place. She and I are going to have words, or I’ll be moving her out if this place faster than she can fucking blink. “Nessa, babe, you ready?” I ask into the small space. Where my house looks like I just moved in, Vanessa’s place looks lived in. Though, the past couple of days, my house has looked more like a home than ever before. Would I be wrong to move her in this week? Maybe. Would I give a fuck? Not even close.
Nessa doesn’t respond as I step inside. I close the door behind me, making noise in case she didn’t hear me call out her name. I’d hate for her to come around the corner and lose her balance because I’m standing in her place unannounced.
“Babe!” I call out again as I walk down the hall, stopping in the doorway when I see Vanessa. She’s standing in front of her full-length mirror, in heels, a dress that’s unzipped at the back, black, short, and tight. A long-sleeved second skin, hair draping down in soft waves pulled to the side while she fiddles with her makeup. She is so lost in what she’s doing, she has no idea I’m leaning against the jamb of her bedroom door, looking my fill. The high heels she has on elongate her already slim, muscular legs and accentuate that heart-shaped ass. One that I’m ready to sink my teeth into, especially now that I know my girl likes how I play. I cross my arms over my chest, cross my ankles, and watch her like a lion as it stalks its prey, thinking about all the dirty ways I’m going to have her in one of our beds tonight.
She does one more swipe of her lipstick, dragging it along the top of her lip, then doing the same to her bottom lip. It doesn’t matter what she does—it could be a laugh, a smile, a touch, every little thing she does hits me in that spot I thought was dead and destroyed by another person. One who I once saw a future with, one who did me wrong. Now, standing here, watching Vanessa, being surrounded by her this week, it’s shown me that she was made for me, and I was made for her.
“Parker.” She finally notices me, unaware of the thoughts I’ve got running through my mind. I watch as she takes her fill of me, much like I’ve been doing to her for the past few minutes. A blush appears on the apples of her cheeks when I lick my lower lip, suppressing the need to say fuck it to our plans of dinner tonight and have my meal on her bed, head buried between her legs as an appetizer, then fucking as many orgasms as I can out of her before finally letting go and coming myself.
“Christ, babe, not sure I’m willing to share you with the outside world in that dress and those heels.” Vanessa turns around, showing me the front. The dress covers her from her upper thighs to her throat. I smirk, wondering if she picked it out because of the marks I’ve left along her collarbones. Tonight, when I peel her out of the dress, will tell me all I need to know.
“I told you we didn’t even have to go out. You’ve got a dream of a kitchen. I’d have no problem cooking a meal with you instead.” She walks towards me, a slow sensual dance as she takes her place in front of me.
“Next time.” It pains me to admit her idea is a hundred times better, and I’d probably agree, but that thought niggles in the back of my head that Vanessa deserves a man who can take her out, show her off, and not be the recluse he’s known to be.
“Okay, can you zip up my dress?” she asks, her tone so low it’s barely above a whisper.
“Of course.” I stand up straight as she turns around, pulling her hair off to the side in case it gets in the way. The tip of my finger travels from the nape of her neck, watching as her skin pebbles along the way. It’s a damn shame to cover up her smooth, soft skin. I reach the base of her spine, a slow tempting torture for both of us, and pull the tab up. Slowly. She turns back around yet again. “Christ, I want to take your lips.”
“They’re yours for the taking, Parker.” It doesn’t matter that she took all afternoon to get ready for our date or that I watched her line and gloss her lips for five minutes. Vanessa wants me just as badly.
“We do that, we’ll be late. It’ll take you ten minutes to fix it all over again for me to mess up.”
“Once again, we could have stayed home. I need to grab my bag, then I’m ready.” She walks to her bed and grabs the small clutch. My hand goes out to take hers once she’s back in reaching distance.
“I’ll be kissing you later, and more than your lips, baby.” I hear the deep breath of air she takes. My words turn her on. I’ll be taking advantage of the fact that my woman loves when I tease the both of us.
NINETEEN
Nessa
“Mr. Hudson,Miss Taylor, your table is ready, if you’ll follow me.” Parker’s hand is on my lower back, possessively holding me as close as possible while we walk. He was pissed when his phone rang two minutes into the ride on our way to the restaurant. He apologized, but I told him it was fine. Still, he was annoyed. The call took the entirety of the ride. My gaze was on Parker, taking in how he commanded the conversation, a dominating man in every facet of his life. When he noticed I was looking, he held my eyes while dealing with whatever catastrophe was happening on the other end of the line. Parker knew he was controlling the situation like he does in any and all things. The fact that we had someone driving us to dinner, no partition in place, was the only thing holding me back from launching myself at him, or for him to demand me to take my panties off and sit on his cock. I would have, too, very easily, since this dress is another skin-tight one where lines would be visible even with the lace overlay.
“Parker,” I utter his name so low that the maître ‘d won’t hear us. I’m noticing that as we walk by the other guests, most have stopped what they’re doing. There’s no talk, no eating. It’s almost pure silence, which is odd for a place like Emilio’s. The reason I love this place besides the food is also the atmosphere. It’s light, not like the stuffy places you’re accustomed to when it comes to money.
“You okay?” he asks, understanding, squeezing my side as we’re taken to the back of the restaurant, where the crowds aren’t so thick.
“Here’s your table. Please enjoy your night at Emilio’s,” we’re interrupted. Parker holds the chair out of me. It’s soft, supple, and on wheels. A great idea because with the amount of food everyone seems to consume as well as the unique drinks and rich wines, I’ll need it in order to push away from the table. A definite necessity, at least for me.
“Thank you.” I situate myself, waiting for Parker to take his seat across from me. I take the opportunity to look at the man who steals my breath, makes me dizzy with need, and while we only met this week, I know he’s the man for me. His eyes hold a hunger in them as he moves his hand across the small intimate table. I give him mine, locking our fingers together. The one thing missing since our time earlier this morning is the stubble along his jawline. It’s gone. I loved that when he kissed my collarbones, my lips, or between my thighs, I was left with the feel of a beard burn along my skin. He’s wearing another custom Brioni suit perfectly tailored for his body, this one a dark gray supple fabric with a black shirt beneath. Parker wears the suit; the suit doesn’t wear him.
“Tell me, Vanessa, what were you going to tell me?” he nudges again. My head tips to the side. The restaurant has gone back to eating and talking. I’d be a fool not to see that quite a few people have their phones out, pointing them in our direction.
“Is it always this way when you go out?” I ask. My father may be a billionaire himself, but we never had to worry about cameras flashing or people gossiping as we walked into a restaurant. Which is exactly what just happened, along with the stares. Talk about different worlds. That’s more than likely because my parents shielded me from the press, staying in their bubble and not stepping out of line in any way, meaning I didn’t either. A rebellious teenager I was not, a rule follower to the core in any and all things, a lot like my father minus his techy side.
“Babe, I don’t go out enough. I leave the publicity shit to Ezra, Theo, and Boston. I’ve had my fill more than enough when we first broke out, hitting the fortune five hundred our first year as Four Brothers was a shit show. Our lives were ripped to shreds. Nothing was left out from our pasts. It’s a wonder we’re all still standing. Our bond is what it is because of it, and it taught me a lot of valuable lessons along the way.”
“Okay, I mean it makes sense.” I’m saved by the waiter who steps up to our table.
“Good evening. I’ll be your waiter for this evening. Can I get you started on a bottle of wine or one of our house cocktails?” He has a white towel draped over his arm. Parker pulls his hand away from mine, not in a mean manner but in a way that exudes control.