“Baby…” Parker whispers.
Our eyes lock as I lift my head, then without a single ounce of hesitation, I do something crazy. I kiss him.
Chapter thirty-three
Parker
For a split second, I’m completely in shock. Laiken’s soft lips press to mine, the movement so sudden it takes my brain a few seconds to register it’s happening. My girl iskissingme. My delayed reaction must give her the wrong impression because she rips away from me, her fingers going to her plump lips.
“Oh my God.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t hav—”
Not letting her finish, I snake my hand around the back of her neck, tugging her mouth back to mine. Our lips crash, the reunion urgent and hard.
“Don’t ever apologize.” I pull away, long enough to mutter the words against her parted lips. “Kiss me anytime you want.”
She gasps when I slide my free hand beneath the hoodie, my palm running up the length of her bare spine. I missed this. The feel of her in my hands. The taste of her on my tongue. The way she molds perfectly to me like she was created just to be held by me.
Her hands grip at my shirt, her fists curling tightly to the fabric.
“Parker…” she practically moans when I flex my hips.
My hands drop to her waist, admiring the feel of her curves beneath my hands. The way her hair falls around her face. The way she looks so fucking good in my hoodie. I want her. Bad. But not like this. Not out in the open where Trace could come down those stairs at any moment.
“Bedroom?” I ask, brushing my lips over her pulse.
Her response is a groan before she finds my lips again. Her tongue lashes at mine, her answer clear and convincing.
“We have to be quiet.” She circles her hips, the movement sexy but subtle.
“What do you need?” My fingers trail to the front of her stomach. “My hands?” I slide a digit lower. “My tongue?”
A strange noise escapes her throat and I grin.
“Both,” she mumbles.
Right when I push to stand, to take her to the bedroom and bring all those memories back to life, a fist bangs on the front door.
“Who the hell is that?” I bark, a little frustrated that after years of dreaming of her in my arms again, someone is interfering.
“I have no idea.” She shakes her head and climbs off me. “It’s only seven. Maybe it’s Maddox.”
She hustles to the door, patting her hair while I adjust myself and try to look like I wasn’t about to violate his sister on his mother’s couch.
Nice, Parker.
Laiken clears her throat before she opens the door. I lean my elbows on my knees, trying to see past her.
The tension that rises in her shoulders tells me it’s not Maddox. I stand at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.
“Laiken Sheppard?”
“That’s me,” she answers.
A man who can’t be more than twenty, wearing khakis and a blue button-up, pulls an envelope from beneath his arm.
“You’ve been served.”
Laiken stares at the documents spread out on the island while I pace back and forth.
