He flipped the damper in the back, the stove roaring and putting out some healthy heat now. He straightened and turned to face her, putting his hands in his back pockets, trying to appear non-threatening. The thoughts her question elicited would seem less than … friendly. Still, he couldn’t help it. “You ask me that on a night when you aren’t shit-faced, and I’ll show you.”
Ashley snorted. “Promises.” She tried to stand up, and Parker strode over to her, grabbing her arms again as she overbalanced once more.
“Jesus, I‘m not normally this bad. I can usually hold my alcohol.”
“It’s all right.” He flashed her a grin. “You can make it up to me in the morning.”
Parker had a good idea why she couldn’t hold her alcohol. She was too thin. He could see how her clothing hung a little loosely on her. He would very much like to see her filled out more, see that skirt straining at the hips, the buttons of her blouse a little tight. She had the body type for it, no skin and bones her, but he had the distinct impression she was underweight from what she normally would be.
Something we would definitely work on, my dear. If you were mine.
She reached for him as he moved toward the stove, her hands lain along his shoulders. He turned back toward her and she hugged him, her cheek against the hard line of his jaw.
“Parker,” she whispered, her lips brushing his skin. “What’s happening?”
Squeezing tighter to him, she pressed her soft breasts against his hard ribcage, her hips moving against his in a languid circle. His erection brushed against her belly, and she froze. Then her hands grasped the back of his shirt in a strong clench, and she pressed herself against his hardness.
“Parker. I want—”
He pulled her back. “You’re drunk, girl.”
She shook her head, smiling up at him. Her half-lidded eyes, the moistness of her lips, the glint in her gaze, all of it, was devastating. He had to ignore it though, he not being in the habit of taking advantage of intoxicated women.
Fuck.
Parker turned her around, the movement brusque. He had a tight leash on himself; the urge to do so very much more to her was overpowering. “Let’s get you in bed, Ashley. You’ll feel better. It’s gonna be a bitch of a hangover tomorrow though.”
“Your fault,” she murmured over her shoulder as she let him guide her to the bedroom, his arms clasped loosely under her breasts, her fingers wrapped around his corded forearms. He tried not to let her buttocks rub against his cock as they walked, but it was a close-run thing.
Parker moved her to the edge of the bed, letting her try to stand unaided.
“Can you do this yourself?” His brows raised, a hand on her forearm, gently squeezing.
Her head moved as if a doll’s; it was a sort of nod, he guessed. Then she fell back onto the bed with a grunt. She was out like a light.
Shaking his head, a smile on his lips, he clutched her upper torso to him, her head lolling on his shoulder as he pulled the covers down. He tried to ignore the soft press of her breasts against his chest; his hard cock utterly failed to ignore it. He noticed she’d kept the matching lavender bedspread, surprising him. He’d taken her for the type to want to personalize everything as hers.
She mumbled, unintelligible, as he lay her back down against the soft pillows, the clean smell of the linens mixing pleasantly with the spicy scent of her hair. God, there was so much of it. He didn’t realize it because she’d always had it up around him. Now, as he pulled the pins from her tresses, it fell all around her in deep, silky browns. He rubbed a soft lock of the blonde streaking through his fingers.
“Ashley,” he whispered. She was still, her breathing steady and deep.
He brushed some of the hair off her forehead, his fingers lingering on her warm skin, the pulse of her temple faint against the edge of his hand.
You need to go. This is not a road you need to walk. Yet.
He wriggled her out of her blouse, groaning at the white lace bra that contained her pale breasts. Parker wanted to feel them in his hands; their weight had been a tease when pressed to his chest moments before. He resisted the urge, and unbuttoned her skirt at her hip. He murmured to her, and she raised her ass a little to allow him to pull the skirt all the way off of her legs.
Some of her consciousness was still there after all.
Her matching panties molded to her mound in a close embrace and he longed to clutch that warmth in his own palm, the heart of her in his grasp. He lay a gentle hand on the smoothness of her thigh, a thumb caressing the flesh a moment, then pulled the covers over her. It was one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do.
Resisting the urge to plant a kiss on her hair, he instead stood over her for a moment, just listening to her breathe. Her pale pink lips were partially open, the perfect white of her teeth just hinted at. He wanted to take those lips with his kiss. Feel how she yielded to him.
Soon.
He checked the windows, and pulled the damper on the stove before leaving. His hand clutched the worn handle of the door for several moments as he stood outside her front door. Then he drew the deadbolt with her key and headed back toward the house, gazing up at a sky awash in stars.
Chapter Seven
The grating tone of her cell phone alarm woke Ashley from oblivion. She rolled over to hit the snooze and groaned.
“Fuuuuccckk,” she croaked, pressing against her closed eyes with thumb and index finger.
It felt like someone was trying to chop off the top of her head with a dull hatchet. She threw the covers off, grabbed her phone, and stumbled into the bathroom, cursing at the coldness of the floor.
Her phone rang as she leaned over the bathroom sink to splash warm water over her face.
“Ashley?” It was Tara.
“She’s dead,” Ashley said, shaking her head slowly. “We buried her. This is her pickled corpse.”
Tara laughed, not quite able to make it seem unforced. It snapped Ashley fully awake.
“He came by this morning.”
She swallowed, her throat feeling like thousand year old parchment paper.
“Already? Jesus, I hoped he’d just leave you alone.”
“You knew that was a slim chance.”
Ashley pulled down her panties and sat on the toilet, her head cradled in her hand. “What did you tell him, Tara? Does he have a clue where I went?”
There was a short pause. “He didn’t ask where you were, Ash.”
“Huh?”
“I wanted to slap the sonofabitch, but Brian made it clear there would be consequences for doing so.”
Was she hearing this right? “Tara, I think I must still be drunk. Can you start over again? This is not making sense.”
She flushed the toilet, and pulled her panties back up. She realized she had no memory of how she’d gotten into just her underwear.
Parker?
“Ashley, he — he didn’t ask about you at all.”
“Not at all? He must be trying something. Getting me to let my guard down. Something.”
“I don’t know, Ash. It was really … weird.”
“What did he say then? I’m guessing he wasn’t dropping by to shoot the shit with you.”
Ashley splashed some water into a glass and downed it with a couple of aspirin.
“He told me that he was … sorry. Sorry for being an asshole to me.” Tara’s voice reflected the incredulity that Ashley felt.
“You’ve gotta be kidding, Tara. Don’t fuck with me, please. My head can’t take it.”
“This is no joke. You can ask Brian, if you want. He saw the whole thing.”
“Jesus, Tara.” She shambled back into the bedroom, and slipped beneath the blessedly soft covers. Her stomach flip-flopped as she lay back. She guessed she might be running back into the bathroom sooner rather than later.
“There’s more, Ash. He — I still can’t believe this. He told me that he wouldn’t be tracking you down. He knew that you wanted to end it
.”
She felt like the world had taken a turn for the surreal. Terry was not a man who apologized — for anything.
He’d had more than one run-in with Tara. One time, her boyfriend Brian even had to step in to physically restrain Tara at a New Years Eve party they’d all been attending. Everyone had been drinking, and of course Tara had to tell Terry what she really thought about Mr. Tough Ass Cop. And of course, Terry replied right back with what he thought about Ashley’s nosy, big-mouthed best friend. There was zero love lost between those two from that night forward.
“I know he’s up to something, Tara. He told me I’d never leave him. That I needed him too much. What he gave me.”
Part of her believed it too, even when it got out of control. A small, persistent part of her that she tried to ignore still told her that not all of what Terry did was bad. Some of it — she was still ashamed and confused by this — was very good indeed.
Fucking whore.
“The asshole just said his peace from the porch — didn’t even try to barge in with the whole cop-on-duty bullshit. Just told me what he had to say and left. I still can’t believe it myself.”
Whatever shit Parker gave her last night apparently had reality altering properties. It was so unlike Terry as to completely dumbfound her.
“I don’t know, Tara. Maybe I should call him.”
“Are you fucking nuts?”
“See what he’s—”
“Listen, you drunk trick,” Tara’s voice had an edge to it now. “Sleep it off because you’re not thinking straight. You need to see this as a good thing. If he really is giving you space, then take it. Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.”
“I know. Look, you’re right. It’s just — I know there’s something up.” She rubbed her face, squinting to try to get her vision to clear.
“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. But you need to not worry about that until you have to.”
Ashley could feel tears welling. Last night had been so fun, so relaxing. She was able to forget everything, if only for a few hours. Being with those men had felt … secure. Safe.
Well, maybe not safe in the chaste, chivalrous protector sense; Parker made her feel disturbingly — appealingly — not safe, in that regard.
Not the only one, Ash.
Then her past had to dredge itself up again. A recurring nightmare. Maybe it would never be over.
“I’m sorry, Ashley,” Tara said, a slight quaver to her voice. “I’m still pretty keyed up from the whole thing. Brian’s been holding on to me for the past half hour. Some tough bitch I am, huh?”
She could hear Brian’s amused chuckle. “He says ‘hi’ by the way.”
Ashley smiled. She was jealous of Tara now, there was no getting around it. Brian was something she’d never had in Terry; kind, considerate, even gallant. A sweetheart. He was not really the kind of man she’d ever imagined her best friend ending up with though, truth be told. She’d always imagined a bad boy to be more Tara’s type.
Tara had hinted that there was a whole lot more to him than met the eye once they were behind closed doors though. Oddly, though they had always talked in great detail about each of their men, her best friend had been unusually circumspect about information related to Brian. Maybe he was the bad boy only in the bedroom?
She hoped so. Tara needed something as a reward for her putting up with Ashley the Drama Queen.
“So, why are you hung-over, Ash? You get shit-faced and taken advantage of last night? Please God.”
Ashley snorted. “I’m not sure. I was so out of it, I don’t even remember getting into bed. There wasn’t anybody in here with me when your call woke me up, so I’m guessing the drought continues.”
“Damn it.”
She was glad, really. Knowing that Terry was sniffing around was a warning. She needed to keep aware, stay vigilant. This was going to be rough, and so far it had been way too easy. Getting involved with someone (or more than one) else was not a good idea.
Too bad her pussy wasn’t on board with the plan.
“We had dinner last night at Parker’s house. Couple other guys were there too. It was fun.”
“Dinner? Other dudes? What the hell, Ashley! Back up the truck. You have some filling in to do here.”
Ashley laughed. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, really. Just Parker’s best friend Drake —whose also his roommate — and a young college kid named Erik. Parker grilled up some steaks for us. You should see the house. Total bachelor pad. Very manly — testosterone city.”
“Sounds like heaven,” Tara murmured.
“His friends were really cool, nice guys. I’d seen them when I first went to meet Parker about the house, but hadn’t talked to them.”
“And?”
“Are you looking to add a couple studs to the Tara stable? Brian not keeping up with you?”
“Oh God no, it’s not that. I’m the one who can’t keep up with—” There was a muffled jostling on Tara’s end, and Ashley thought she could make out voices.
“Tara, you there?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Tara sounded a little out of breath. “So, anyway. Tell me about them. Are they cute?”
“Damn, Tara! Brian is right there!”
“Oh, he doesn’t mind. We’re both still allowed to look! He looks at other chicks all the time, though I have no idea why he’d want to — I mean he’s got T! Now, it’s payback, bitch.”
Ashley laughed again. “You’re gonna get your ass busted, Tara.”
“Too late now, Ash, I’m already in trouble. Now I might as well make it worth it. Spill it. Details.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. What do you want to know about them?”
“Everything.”
***
Parker winced as the scalding coffee burned his lips. At least the pain helped him wake up, if nothing else.
Drake sat at the butcher’s block wolfing down a bowl of cereal, the morning light slashing brilliance across the dimness of the kitchen. Parker leaned against the counter, looking out the window. He could see the house from there.
Her house.
He knew it was an extraordinarily bad sign that the first thing he thought of when he woke that morning, was of the alabaster perfection of her smooth thighs, the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. It was especially worrisome considering the fact that the night before he’d slipped off to sleep with the image of her half-lidded eyes dancing in his mind. Not good.
“You think she’s sick?” Drake sat back, dropping his spoon into the empty bowl. He squinted against the sunlight washing over his dark features.
“It would be a miracle if she’s not worshipping the porcelain god as we speak.” Parker shook his head at the image of his poor girl kneeling on the bathroom floor, throwing up, him standing behind her, rubbing her back with one hand while he held her hair back with the other.
“I like her, Park. But she’s hiding.” Drake stood, stretching his massive arms over his head, groaning.
Parker snorted. “Can you blame her? A room full of testosterone? I say she did pretty damned good, all things considered.”
“It was more than that, and you know it.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Parker sat down his coffee mug.
“You like her.”
Parker nodded. He wasn’t about to admit just how much he liked her though. Not yet anyway.
“So why are you here talking to me then?” Drake grinned. “You losing the touch, old man?”
“You’re a year younger than me, asswipe.”
Drake waved a dismissive hand, his eyes glittering in the sunlit room.
Parker turned toward him. “Look, I know you saw it that first day. We all saw it last night — even Erik, though he’s too stupid to realize it. If she’s the one, do you still want to do this? We haven’t talked about this in … a while.”
It was Drake’s turn to nod, his dark eyes serious once more. “Question is, are we seeing something real there, or just what we want
to see?”
“I don’t know Drake, but you might be right about last night. I’ll be careful, but I’m gonna make damn sure I find out.”
“I thought you would.” Drake walked to the sink and dropped his bowl in. “I’m driving Erik back to Seattle today. I’ll probably be back tomorrow night.”
Parker winked at his friend. “Paying a visit so soon? I’m sure the place has done just fine without you, big guy. Meatheads to run security are a dime a dozen.”
“Fuck off,” Drake muttered, as he walked out of the kitchen.
Parker heard the bathroom door in the hallway close.
He knew where Drake would be tomorrow night. He knew his best friend missed some of the people there, missed the energy. Truth be told, Parker never liked it that much, though he’d never tell his friend that. Clubs were too much of a contrivance, a front. Play.
He wasn’t interested in just play. Never had been. He needed more, needed a lot more than most clubs would be comfortable with. More than that, he wanted to be able to concentrate. There was too much distraction (pleasant or otherwise) at a place like Sanctum. A good Dom — a good Master — took the time to focus on one thing. His submissive. His slave. Everything else was bullshit.
Drake walked back into the kitchen, punching something into his phone.
“So.” Parker crossed his arms over his chest. “If we’re really going to do this, what about him?”
Drake looked up at him.
“Yeah, Erik,” Parker said, holding out a hand. “We haven’t really decided on that yet, Drake.”
“I think he could be ready — if we do it right.”
“He’s young. He doesn’t know shit.” Parker thought about how incredibly clueless he’d been at Erik’s age, and it made him shudder. Too stupid to even know how clueless he was. The blissful ignorance of youth, to not know what you didn’t know.
“True. But he has the instinct. We’ve talked a little bit about it.”
Parker’s brows lifted. “He talked — to you?”
Drake flashed him a sharp look. “Why wouldn’t he?”
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