She’d boarded the bus for the party and sat next to her partner in crime, Gisele, hoping she’d feel better with someone who likely felt equally hungover. After all, misery did love company, right? But then the brother boarded the bus. And parked his butt—his delicious-looking butt—right smack-dab in front of her. He had on some cologne that should have made her want to throw up but instead had her yearning to bury her nose in the crook of his neck and just inhale the aroma. While twirling her fingers through his straight-from-the beach blond hair.
It was a sort of oaky, woodsy, hike-in-the-mountains-followed-by-crazy-good-sex-on-a-bed-of-pine-needles scent. Not that she’d ever had sex—good or bad—on a bed of pine needles. But if she did, she knew it would smell just like him. Which was making her crazy because she so did not want to think good thoughts about the scent of Parker Hornsby or how her hands would fit just so over the curve of his perfectly shaped ass or how, in another world—one in which she hadn’t licked wounds caused by him for years—she’d give strong consideration to jumping the man’s bones right here, right on the bus, were it not for royal protocol, which of course she had to adhere to, what with it being her cousin’s wedding after all.
When Parker was leaning toward Tomasso, engrossed in conversation, Valentina discreetly inched her hand over the edge of his seat-back and touched his coat. Yeah, yeah, that sounded sort of weird. But she’d noticed it when they were in line to board the bus. It was a black camel-hair topcoat and it fit him so well, and it looked so soft and inviting and sort of well-loved. She wanted to stroke her hands over it for just a minute, just to prove to herself that it couldn’t feel as amazing as she thought it would.
But she was wrong. It felt even better. And maybe it was because filling it out was one entirely hot piece of man, one she outwardly detested but if she were to be honest with herself, she’d have to admit that old feelings might be harder to kill off than she’d hoped. Because all she could think of was how it would feel to wrap herself around him in that coat. And then slowly, with great deliberation, unbutton it, slip it from his strong shoulders, then run her hands down the crisply pressed field of his sexy blue dress shirt, fondling his strong pectoral muscles, stroking her hands down the length of his cut stomach, which would eventually lead to one of her favorite parts of a man’s body: that happy trail, the beacon that led inexorably to where she wanted to go.
Of course she knew the road to perdition was paved with that very sexy trail of hair she even now could recall ogling all those years ago when Parker wore his swim trunks at the beach. Or went shirtless while playing football, sweat dripping down his belly just there in that perfect spot. Back then she hadn’t a true clue what exactly that led to, but now, good Lord, she had a gunnysack of ideas about what she could do at the end of that goody trail. Talk about a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow...
Valentina closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like just to ease her hand beneath the waistband of his suit pants. She wouldn’t bother taking the time to undo his belt buckle or even unzip his fly. She’d be too impatient to get to the goods. And now she even had an inkling how good those goods were: when he’d tried to save her from falling at the table last night, he’d pressed up against her just so, and suffice it to say it did indeed rescue her. And fueled her vivid dreams last night as well. Shame she was such a stubborn thing, because otherwise she could have just gotten things rolling with that very hip-to-hip introduction and by now they’d be kicking back and smoking a Camel.
But alas, about as close as she was going to let herself get to Parker Hornsby would be copping a feel of his soft overcoat, not whatever might be hard beneath his undergarments, darn it.
Parker turned to say something his sister, snagging Valentina’s fingers in the collar of his coat. He cocked his head toward her, a look of confusion on his face.
“Trying to choke me with my own clothing now?” He smirked at her.
Valentina pulled her hand away as if she’d touched a hot stove.
“Go away,” she said, embarrassed she couldn’t compose a better comeback than that but glad she had at least deflected the fact that she’d been creeping on his coat.
“Trust me, Valentina, if I could, I would,” he said, his lips pursed together. “You’ve made it abundantly clear I’m not welcome in your little slice of the universe. And I’m doing my best to steer clear of you. But I’m here for Luca, and you’re just going to have to deal with that.”
Valentina was so glad it was dark in the bus because a flush of embarrassment had no doubt stained her cheeks a bright red. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, why she couldn’t bring herself to act in a civil manner around this man. All she knew was something about Parker Hornsby caused her to revert to behaving like an idiotic, awkward teenager, and it was making her crazy.
~*~
True to her word, Valentina capitalized on the free-flowing champagne and the multitude of toasts and managed to tamp down her hangover with the aid of a slight alcohol infusion into her bloodstream. Amazing how that worked. Eventually she slipped upstairs to the family quarters to find a bathroom to use, having tired of bathroom lines in the downstairs powder rooms.
As she came out of the bathroom, she noticed a sitting room where coats had been hung on several racks lined up side by side. There weren’t many left as buses had been transferring guests back to town for the past hour or so, and many guests had already departed. She flicked on the light and slipped into the room, making a beeline to the coats. Sliding the hangers down one by one, she shifted the garments until she found the one she was looking for.
She pulled it from the hanger and held the collar up to her nose, inhaling the scent. She moaned. God, she was going to need to do something about this weird need to have some contact with that man. But not quite yet. Because the coat felt so warm and soft in her hands and she started thinking about how wonderful it would feel if she could just wrap herself up in it and maybe close her eyes for a few minutes while she thought about the finer points of Parker Hornsby (disregarding all the jerky ones, which she knew were there somewhere). Only this room was lacking a bed, which sounded really perfectly comfortable right about now.
She listened for the sound of any potential people approaching. The last she’d spied Parker downstairs, he’d seemed pretty engrossed in a conversation with a count from some far-flung country in Eastern Europe. Surely that meant he’d remain downstairs for a good long while still.
She grabbed Parker’s topcoat and slipped out the door, turning off the light behind her. She approached the very next door she found and, turning the knob, found herself in a lovely room with a large, soft bed and no one there to bother her. She slipped off her shoes and settled herself onto the bed, tucking Parker’s soft coat around her, a makeshift security blanket of sorts, and she drifted off to sleep thinking about the previous occupant of that coat and how good it would feel if it were him and not his outerwear she was pressed up against.
In her dreams she nuzzled up to Parker, mashing her body to his like a puppy finding a cozy spot atop a pile of his littermates. Not even a tiny bit of space between bodies, all warmth and snuggling and hard body up against hers. She knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t help herself—her hands kept reaching for his body, the feel of his hard chest, and even harder parts farther down. She wasn’t sure if she moaned in her sleep or out loud, but she turned over and drifted off again, secure in the knowledge that no one would find her here.
Chapter Thirteen
It was late and Parker was ready to get back to the palace. He really didn’t want to wait for the next shuttle back, so he was about to order an Uber, but first had to retrieve his coat. It was too cold outside to leave that behind; with heavy snow in the forecast he was going to need it all week long.
He mounted the steps to the family wing of the estate. Luca told him he thought he’d find his coat in the room that was the second or third door on the right down the right-hand hallway. He hoped it would
be where it was supposed to be so he wouldn’t walk in on anyone doing God knows what. It was so quiet upstairs; amazing how these old homes were so soundproofed you could hear nothing, even with a large crowd right downstairs.
He found the second door closed and he tapped lightly on it, just to be sure he wasn’t intruding on anyone. He opened the door, which creaked quietly as he entered the darkened room. Weird, he’d thought he’d find the room with racks of coats lined up, but there seemed to be nothing of the sort. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed someone appeared to be sound asleep on the bed. God, he needed to slip out and fast; clearly he’d gone to the wrong room. But wait—was that his coat covering up whomever was snoring on the bed?
He tiptoed over to the bed and inspected the coat as best he could given the lack of illumination in the room. It was most definitely the long black camel-hair coat that had belonged to his father. He could tell just by the feel of it that it was his; he knew the touch of that from years of his father’s wearing it, long before it became his. It was one of the few things his father left behind when he moved out, and Parker treasured it as something good that remained of his father’s memories.
He slowly stroked the sleeve of the coat, so familiar was he with the touch of the thing it stirred up long-ago memories of sitting alongside his father at church every Sunday when he was young, tucked securely in the safe umbrella of his arms, stroking his tiny fingers along it as if it was a small child’s blankie. His hands came to the leather dome-woven buttons at the base of the sleeve just as he heard a woman groan, and he jumped back.
“Do it again,” the woman’s voice said.
He tried to make out in the dark who was talking to him, but still he couldn’t see.
“Do what again?” he said. What a strange thing that he was even asking that of someone who was lying there wrapped in his father’s vintage coat. He should just demand it back and leave.
“Stroke my arm the way you just did,” she said. “It felt good. Very sensual.”
Okay then. Whatever. While he was certain nothing good could come of this, what was he to do? So he slowly dragged his fingers down the sleeve again, taking a minute to enjoy the sensation of the soft camel hair on his fingertips.
Just then a hand reached out and began to stroke his arm slowly, softly. He got chill bumps.
“Does that feel good?” the voice said.
He nodded. But of course the person wouldn’t even know he’d done that.
“Of... of course,” he said, stammering.
Then he felt the hand slide up his abdomen, across his chest, and, helllloooo, what the hell was going on here?
“Does that feel even better?” she said.
And he wanted to tell her no but that would be lying, and while he had no idea what was going on, somehow he was unable to drag himself away from whatever it was. Whether it was his curiosity or his seemingly chronic state of horniness that had vexed him ever since he’d laid eyes on that cursed Valentina Romeo... Damn, he needed a cold shower.
Aaaannnnd that wasn’t going to happen because that soft hand was now stroking across his crotch, featherlight, but it didn’t take more than a feather to turn that thing into a tool that was hard as steel, and his breathing quickly became labored.
“What are you doing?” he said, dying to know who this person was. “And who are you?”
He wanted nothing more than to reach over and reciprocate, place his hands on this strange woman’s most intimate spots as well, but he couldn’t do that, not without knowing who she was and what she was up to.
“Listen,” he said, pressing himself to her hand even as he knew he had to not do that. “As amazing as this feels, we have to stop. I don’t even know who you are.”
“Pretty please,” she said, pressing harder, giving his cock a squeeze. “For me, Parker?”
Parker? Whoever this was knew him. But he hardly knew anyone at this party.
“Why don’t you let me have my coat? And if you want, I can call for a ride home for you.”
“But first kiss me. I want to feel your mouth on mine, Parker.”
Parker’s eyes widened. Should he? She knew who he was. But this seemed all wrong. But her hand was pressed to his crotch, and she wasn’t showing signs of stopping.
He leaned over, unable to make out whose face it was. “Who are you and how do you know my name?”
“Huh?” she said, her voice sounding distant. Her hands came to rest, unmoving, right on top of his very swollen cock. Parker thought he could die. And then he heard snoring.
“I’m sorry, Miss... whoever you are,” he said, reaching for the coat and gently nudging her shoulder. “Wake up.”
The woman muttered something and rolled over so she was facing him. He leaned down so his face was close to hers, trying to make out who it might be. He gasped.
“Valentina?” he said, perhaps a little too loudly. “What are you doing in my coat?”
“You?” she said, her voice suddenly shrill. “What are you doing to me?”
“Me? Doing to you? More like what are you doing to me?” He stepped back. “You were talking to me. I didn’t even know who you were. You rubbed your hands up against me. You asked me to kiss you.”
“I did no such thing!” She rolled over on the bed to create distance between them.
“Are you kidding me?” he said. “I came in here to get my coat. Just minding my business, ready to leave. I just needed my coat. And I come up here to find you curled up in it and, and, well, I don’t know what you were thinking. But I do know you called out to me. You asked me to kiss you.”
Valentina climbed out of the bed, grabbed her shoes, and stood face-to-face with him. “I would no sooner ask you to kiss me than I would, well, than I would choose to kiss you myself.”
Parker smiled. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.”
“How do you know what you don’t want when you’ve never even tried it?”
She glared at him in the dark room. “Trust me, that I can live without.”
He arched his brow. “You said yourself that you wanted me to kiss you. I think I owe it to you to give you a taste of what you’re missing out on. And you owe it to yourself to give it a try.”
With that, he lowered his lips to hers, placing his hands softly on her waist and pulling her toward him. He knew he had to tread lightly, like trying to trap a cornered animal. Calm words and gentle motions were in order. He ever so softly traced a path along the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open them to him.
“There,” he said between soft licks. “That’s not so bad, now is it?”
He pulled her slightly closer, his hips pressed to hers so she wouldn’t be able to mistake how she was making him feel.
“I know you want me, Valentina,” he said. “I’m yours for the taking, baby. Go on, just give it a try. If you decide it’s not for you, then we can call it a night.”
His hand reached up to the back of her head, angling her head just so, giving him the right position to again place his mouth over hers, pressing his tongue to part her lips, which he could tell were relaxing into his kiss.
“That’s it, baby,” he said, and before he knew it her tongue had joined in the fun, tangling with his, stroking along his licks. She let out a moan that caused him to pull her closer, rubbing his cock to her pelvis. He groaned.
In the darkened room they were far from the bustle of the party downstairs; they couldn’t even hear the music playing or the din of conversation. All they could hear was the chorus of moans and panting breath as the two of them grappled with one another. Valentina tugged on his shirt, pulling it loose from the confines of his belted pants, and she slid her hands up and under his shirt and over his chest, moaning aloud once more. Parker slipped the metallic strap of her cocktail dress down past her shoulder, exposing her breast for his pleasure. He took a chance in separating from her mouth so he could lick his way toward her breast, finally finding a hard nipple that he pulled int
o his warm mouth.
Meanwhile, Valentina’s hand had worked its way beneath the waistband of Parker’s pants, impatiently fumbling with the button and zipper, mercifully freeing his erection from the prison it had been contained in. Parker’s mouth had found its way back to Valentina’s as his hand deftly lifted the hem of her body-hugging metallic dress, his fingers sliding beneath her skimpy thong and finally just there, right where he needed them to be.
“Oh. My. God,” he moaned. “You’re so wet.”
He pushed her gently against the bed and she fell back against it, and for a minute she began to protest but he pressed a finger to her lips and lowered himself to his knees, spreading her legs apart and planting soft kisses along her thighs as he worked his mouth toward her warm center. One long stroke with his tongue, another, and another and Valentina moaned aloud.
“Oh God, Parker. More.” She rocked her hips against his tongue and he pressed first one then two fingers inside her slick center, burying them and pulling back, then pressing farther in, letting her know in no uncertain terms what he wanted to do with another appendage of his just as soon as he made sure she was satisfied. He dragged his tongue over her clit, drawing masterful circles around it. She pumped madly against him.
“Right there, oh, shit, Parker, God, fuck!”
He could feel her climax rolling through her, her muscles clamping on his fingers as her body shuddered under his efforts. He held her as her orgasm settled down and she remained quiet, breathing heavily.
Parker climbed up on the bed so they were side by side and took her mouth with his as she licked his wet lips and reached for his desperate cock. He groaned.
“I need to be in you so badly,” he said in a whisper.
“I don’t have any protection,” she said. “Do you?”
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