Trademarked: Bad Boys Need Love Too

by Misti Murphy

  Opening the door, she runs her gaze over me. “Do you know you’re like the definition of cheesy porn?”

  “Okay.” I raise an eyebrow at her.

  She steps out of the way so that I can enter. “You’re the smoking hot pizza delivery boy with the big cock, here to fill my...” she pauses, giving the whole sentence an extra serving of innuendo, “...order.”

  “Well, I aim to please.” I put the pizzas on the coffee table next to the empty bottle of Benadryl. I’d bought more so that she would have some next time she needed it, not because I expected her to go through a bottle of it tonight. “Hit it hard, huh?”

  She shrugs and presses two white teeth into her lip. “Maybe a little.”

  “Well, how about you take a seat and I’ll get you a plate. Let’s see if we can get some food into you.”

  “No plate needed.” She bounces onto the couch, flips open the pizza boxes, and takes a huge slice. “I’m starving.”

  “Leave me a couple slices?” I ask, picking up the bag and heading for the bathroom.

  “Only if you’re quick,” she replies before wrapping her lips around the pointed end of the slice.

  I pop the new bottle of Benadryl into her cabinet, unpack my razor, and get to work on removing every trace of stubble. Once I’m satisfied, I pack my razor and shaving cream back into the bag and clean up.

  She’s made a good indent in the pepperoni pizza. And her face is already losing its puffiness. The welts are disappearing. “Want something to drink?”

  “There’s soda in the fridge,” she says. “I can get it.”

  “No, you stay there. Doctor’s orders,” I tell her.

  “You’re not a doctor.”

  “But I’ve played a doctor.” One time. On a soap opera. Still, I’m not going to allow her to lift a finger tonight.

  I find the soda then open cupboards until I locate a couple of glasses. Taking my haul back into the living room, I pour us both drinks before I settle on the couch and snatch up a slice. “What did you decide we should watch?”

  “I thought an action flick. Die Hard or Take...” Bree grows quiet as she closes the lid on the empty pizza box. “You bought me cookies?” She picks up the edible arrangement I’d brought. A bunch of different cookies wrapped in cellophane and shaped into a bouquet.

  “I thought it would be more fitting than flowers.”

  “They’re so cool.” She smiles, cellophane crinkling between her fingers. “This is really sweet. I didn’t expect...” She glances shyly up at me. “You’re a sweet guy, Parker Kent.”

  “I’m not really.” I shrug. I haven’t been. I’ve been everything she thought I was and more. I’ve slept my way through the club scene and taken women for granted for a long time, but that’s changing. “I just want to see you smile.”

  She puts down the cookies and pounces. Her legs straddle mine as she winds her arms around my neck. “I really like you, Parker.”

  “I really like you too,” I say, settling my hand on her calf near her knee.

  “Did you...” She peers closely at my jaw. “You shaved?”

  “Yeah. I hope you don’t mind that I used your bathroom.” I slide my other arm around her waist and try to shift her away from my quickly hardening cock before she realizes how much her straddling my lap affects me. “I don’t expect to kiss you tonight, though. That wasn’t the point.”

  Her fingers dance over my clean jaw. Her touch is warm and light and makes my heart trip. They move to my chin and up to my mouth. My lips ache. They want so much more.

  “Mmm,” she hums, her gaze locked on my lips.

  “Mmm?” I ask on a rasp. I’m rock fucking solid underneath her, and I fight the need to move my hands, and my lips, and the vicious need of my hips to buck against her to see what other delicious sounds she can make.

  She bows her head, bringing us closer. Her hair falls from behind her ear like a silk wave to caress my cheek. “What if I want you to kiss me?”

  Fuck. How do I say no to her? Sliding my hand into her hair, I bridge the gap between our mouths. I’ll be gentle. Just a nibble. I groan at her sweet taste filling my senses. Her lips move against mine, her tongue pushing against my lips. Knock knock. My tongue answers, softly thrusting to meet hers.

  Her hands stumble and trip down my chest, push against the hem of my shirt and skate along my abs. I like the way she explores my body, slides her hands over my ribcage and up to my pecs. Down again to the buckle of my belt, her touch almost ticklish except it brings so much fucking need. My pulse is racing, my blood pounding. I want more of her. Need more. She grinds on me, and my cock throbs and aches to get inside her hot cunt.

  I squeeze her ass as I shift to deepen the kiss, and she whimpers. I can’t tell if it’s in pleasure or pain. And I won’t hurt her.

  I break off the kiss. “Babe, are you okay?”

  She touches the tips of two fingers to her lips and winces.

  “As much as I hate to say it, we should keep the kissing for when you’re better. How about we watch those movies you picked?”

  “That might be a good idea.” She glances away, her voice dropping to a whisper.

  “Trust me.” I nibble at her ear as I situate her so that she can watch TV while still on my lap. “We have plenty of time to make out. This is only our first date, remember?”

  We watch Die Hard. I lie. She watches Die Hard while I watch her. Normally John McClain would have my attention, but Bree has all of it tonight. Hanging out on her couch with her like this is... perfect. I’ve spent so much time in the catch and release program, but none of it has made me happy like this. That feeling scares the fuck out of me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Bree

  Wednesday afternoon, I’m twiddling my thumbs while on hold with another department. I swear they do it just to be annoying. They’re probably playing trashcan basketball instead of looking up the information I need to put through a claim on the Monet that went missing from my client’s personal collection last night. I’m betting the son took it. He’d seemed a little too smug. But I have no proof.

  My cell phone pings, and I smile as I pick it up. I haven’t seen Parker since Saturday when he spent the night on my couch. He was gone when I woke up and so was my pash rash, but he’s messaged me every day.

  I miss him.

  Tim’s name comes up with an attachment. Odd since he’s in the next cubicle. It’s probably a cat video. Or a Star Wars meme. I squint one eye as I open it because every now and then Tim gets great joy out of sending me porn styled vegetables. Carrots with dicks. Mushrooms that look like cocks. Freaky potatoes. That kind of thing.

  Parker’s picture pops onto my screen. He’s sexy as ever in a charcoal designer suit. Smiling widely. With his arm wrapped around a woman. She’s gorgeous. Exotic. With the face of an angel, and she’s staring up at him with so much adoration on her face that I want to stab my eyeball with a thumbtack.

  “Breezy?” Tim slinks into my cubicle, both hands thrust into his pockets, his shoulders hunched so that he looks like he doesn’t have a neck. “Thought I ought to send that to you, before you see it somewhere else and get all neurotic.”

  “Who do you think she is?” I gnaw at my lip as I study the picture. They’re obviously close. And why shouldn’t they be? The weekend we spent in each other’s company doesn’t mean anything. Not to a guy like Parker Kent. I’m not blind to his past. Hell, he flaunted it in front of me the first day I met him. It’s just I really like him. Even though I told myself I shouldn’t.

  “I don’t know. Probably a friend or something. I’m sure there’s a great explanation. Parker’s totally into you.”

  “It doesn’t really matter.” I slump into my chair. “It’s not like we’re a thing. He can see whoever he wants.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tim says, slouching against my desk. “If you say so.”

  “We’ve barely dated,” I protest. We’ve only exchanged a few kisses. “It’s not like I threw my cookie at him.
”

  Tim wrinkles his nose, the lines between his brows deepening. “Cookie is a metaphor, isn’t it? For your vagina?”

  “Um, perhaps we shouldn’t talk about this,” I say, pointing at the phone in my hand.

  “Breezy, if I was into chicks, I’d want to nail your cookie. You’re so freaking adorkable.” He pretends to aim one of the colored thumb tacks at me. “But then I’d be your first, wouldn’t I? That cookie is as unsullied as the day it came out of the oven.”

  What? My cookie isn’t unsullied. It’s a dirty, dirty cookie. Okay, so I might not have had my cookie filled with cream, but if cookies were vaginas then mine would’ve been peeled open and nibbled around the edges. It’s like the cookie at the bottom of the jar. A little rough from being banged around, but just as delicious as all those cookies that have already been consumed.

  “Do you guys have cookies up there?” The guy I’ve been holding for chooses that moment to pick up.

  “What?” I shriek, bouncing out of my chair so that I nearly fall in a heap on the floor. “No. No cookies. We have no cookies.”

  Tim laughs and rolls his eyes as he drops the thumbtack back into the tin with the rest of them. “Drinks after work?”

  I cover the receiver with my hand. Drinks are a damn good idea given how today is going. At the very least hanging with my bestie will keep me from doing something stupid like showing up on Parker Kent’s doorstep. “Yeah.”

  “Great.” Tim pushes away from my desk and wanders away.

  “Did you find the information I was after?” I ask, going back to the conversation about the Monet. The picture of Parker and the woman he has his arm around stares up at me from my phone, which is still in my hand. I can’t believe I was considering giving him my cookie. He’s a casual guy, and women adore him. A few dates that were hardly dates at all shouldn’t change that. Chalk it up to temporary insanity on my part. I got a little star struck, that’s all.

  Pity that isn’t at all what it feels like.

  ***

  Tim’s already seated when I get to the bar, a margarita in his hand and one across from him. Great, he’s ordered for me, which means I don’t have to wait. Dropping into the seat, I pick up the cocktail and down two-thirds of it.

  “Uh-oh.” Tim’s brow ruffles with concern. “You okay?”

  “Yep. Absolutely. Of course.” I raise one finger to hold off any more questions while I drain the rest of the citrusy liquid.

  “Mmhmm,” he hums. “Looks like it.”

  “Ugh.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as the ice in the drink catches up to me, causing a headache and my eyes to water. “Ouch.”

  “Brain freeze?” Tim asks.

  “Mmhmm.” I nod, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth and wishing the pain away.

  “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  “Is that the menu?” I lean over to snatch the paper out of his hand. I’m such a coward. “What looks good?”

  “The sliders.”

  “Sounds good. But I’m going to need cheddar fries too.” I set down the menu and pick up my empty glass. “And more of these.”

  I lean over the bar to get the barkeep’s attention, and Tim grabs my arm. “Are you kidding me, Breezy? I’m sure he can see you without you climbing over the bar.”

  I settle back in my seat once the tender acknowledges me. Tim’s probably right. I’m losing my cool in the worst possible way.

  “What happened?” Tim nudges me with his elbow. “Did you talk to him?”

  “Not exactly,” I say as the tender joins us, barely noticing me as he smiles and makes eyes at my bestie.

  Tim orders our food and more drinks, handing his credit card over to the man without his usual flirting banter.

  “What’s with that?” I ask once the guy hands him back his card and moves on to his next customer.

  “What’s with what?”

  “You didn’t flirt with him. He was obviously into you.”

  “Yeah, well.” Tim shrugs, and a half smile flickers over his face. “I’m kind of seeing someone.”

  “What?” I gape. “When? How did this happen?”

  “Friday night when we met up with Parker, I met someone too.”

  “Death Star guy?” I ask, and his eyes widen. “Oh my God, you really did go to the dark side.”

  “Yeah maybe.” Tim shrugs. “It’s new. And we’re supposed to be talking about you.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” I go easier on my drink this time. The alcohol is already going to my head. It’s making my chest ache.

  “I’m only your best friend so if you don’t want to tell me...”

  “I couldn’t help myself. I looked up the photo on the internet. Read the article. They looked so cozy together. And once I started I couldn’t stop. So many pictures of him with so many women. Why the hell did I even agree to go on a date with him at all? I knew what kind of guy he is.”

  “You really went and embraced the crazy, didn’t you? Got lost in the maze of TMZ and Entertainment Weekly?”

  I rest my head on the bar top and whimper. “Yes.”

  “You know it’s mostly bullshit, right? Photoshopped lies to sell magazines and keep you hooked. Chances are there is nothing going on between him and whoever-she-is.”

  “I know, but...”

  “I didn’t send you that photo so you could freak out about it. I sent it because Marissa was showing it to everyone who walked past her desk and I didn’t want you to get blindsided. She’s been smitten with him since he took you out to lunch the other day.”

  “You really don’t think it’s anything?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter what I think,” he says. “Did you ask Parker about it?”

  “Uh-huh.” My voice box tries to strangle me.

  “Why does it sound like you didn’t?” He stares at me.

  “No, I did.” I nod like a bobble head, picking up my glass and hoping to bury my next words in the tart frozen drink. I am aware I’m a coward, but what Parker Kent does is really none of my business. “All fourteen feet of him.”

  Tim’s brows shoot up so fast they almost take flight. He blinks slowly. “What the fuck, Breezy? You’re telling me instead of actually talking to him you talked to his billboard?”

  “More like yelled,” I murmur. “I almost rammed the car in front of me.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t talk to him,” Tim says, pondering his drink. “But I still think you need to ask him.”

  “I know,” I admit. “I just can’t do it right now.”

  “Look, he’s into you. It’s obvious. Tell him you can’t date him if he’s dating someone else. I bet he’s not though. He’s a casual kind of guy. You’ve said it yourself. He wouldn’t have asked you out if he didn’t like you for more than your cookie.”

  “Stop talking about my cookie,” I tell him. “I wish I’d never mentioned cookies at all.”

  “Yeah, well, you did.” He chuckles.

  The server brings our order over and we stop talking while he places our food in front of us. Tim orders another round of drinks, and the conversation turns to work. I’m glad for the change of topic while I munch on my cheddar fries. I know I’m probably making a fuss over nothing, but it doesn’t help. I like Parker far more than I thought I would. So much that he has the ability to hurt me. I’ve been hurt before. Do I really want to open myself up to that possibility again?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Parker

  “What do you want to do tonight?” Jeanie walks into the kitchen, adjusting the hoop in her right lobe. “I thought we could hit Studio Paris. Do a little dancing. You could ask Dutch to join us if you want.”

  “Hmm.” I hit send on the message I just finished typing. Four days without seeing Bree is too long. At least I can let her know I’m thinking about her. She’s on my mind constantly. Every time I recall snuggling on her couch last Saturday, I can’t help but smile.

  “Are you listening?” Jeanie
asks.

  I push my phone into the pocket of my chinos to find her checking her candy apple red lipstick in the mirrored splashback. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Your head is obviously somewhere else.” She finishes adjusting the tight bodice of her red silk minidress. “So dancing at Studio Paris. Call Dutch and ask him to join us. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  “I don’t really feel like going out.” I shrug. “Couldn’t we hang out here? You could tell me about your trip.”

  I get a glimpse of something I don’t like in her gaze. My jaw clenches in response and my chest thunders. Jeanie’s upset over something. I hate that I can tell, but I can’t do anything. Unless she decides to tell me about it. Which is why I’ve spent the past four days at her beck and call. Shopping, eating at the trendiest restaurants, and dancing at the hottest clubs when I’d much rather be hanging out on Bree’s couch.

  She props her hip against the counter. “What’s her name?”

  “Who?”

  “The girl you keep messaging. The one you wish you were hanging out with instead of spending time with your sister.”

  “It’s not like that, Jeanie. You know I love when you visit.”

  “I do. Even though it disrupts the line of women coming and going from your apartment. But you haven’t even flirted with anyone since I arrived. Last night you were hit on ten times. I counted. You didn’t notice. You had your head in your phone the entire night. This girl... what’s her name?”

  “Bree,” I say, the beginnings of a grin etching my cheeks.

  “And does this girl have a last name?” Jeanie asks.

  “No.” I shake my head with a chuckle. “I’m not going to tell you that. I know you. You’ll stalk her on social media.”

  “No, I won’t.” She pouts.

  “You will,” I argue.

  “Okay.” She grins. “I so will. But come on, my big brother is interested in a girl outside of the bedroom. She must have one magic vagina.”

  “Uh.” I scratch the back of my neck and mutter into my chest. “I wouldn’t know.”