Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Thanks,” I say, smiling as I slide lower in my seat. “Yours isn’t bad, either. Our hotel tonight looks swanky.”
“I just hope the shower pressure is fierce,” he says. “Campground showers leave me feeling dirty. I need a real shower with real tile and no need to wear flip-flops while I’m washing up.”
“Agreed,” I say, doing my best not to think about how we’ll be showering.
Separately?
Together?
How serious was he about the hot tub, then the chaise lounge, then the bed?
I guess I’m about to find out…
Mobile’s skyline rises from the haze like Oz, all glass and promise. My stomach does a little flutter that has nothing to do with the side effects of all those fried oysters and everything to do with the conversation we’ve been dancing around since we left the campground.
A right turn and a couple of lefts toward the ocean later, the hotel materializes from behind a screen of palm trees. The valet who takes the truck is too professional to comment on my “spent last night battling a crawfish in one-hundred percent humidity” hair, but I catch him glancing at the thinly controlled chaos in the truck bed.
Parker tips him well enough to ensure amnesia, and we carry our own bags inside a lobby that smells of perfumed luxury and a hint of grilled seafood. It’s only four-thirty, but the old folks eat early, and there are plenty of old folks puttering through the lobby or on their way in from the golf course.
All of them look less like refugees from the Land of the Lost than Parker and I do with our fuzzy hair and wrinkled clothes.
“We should tidy up before we go looking for dinner,” I mutter as we join the check-in line. “Do you think they’ll let us in? I’ve never stayed anywhere this fancy before.”
He grins. “I have a credit card and a reservation. They’ll let us in.”
They do. The desk clerk’s smile doesn’t even flicker at our disheveled state. She hands over key cards in a little envelope, wishes us a pleasant stay, and we’re on our way to the elevator.
To potentially the last elevator I will ever ride before I’ve also ridden Parker’s cock.
My pulse spikes at the thought.
Shit. I really don’t want to mess this up, and sometimes sex messes things up. The first time with a new partner can be awkward. Especially stone cold sober, in the bright light of a summer afternoon, with nowhere to hide from the fact that you’re doing the damn thing.
Parker takes my hand.
His palm is a little sweaty.
Somehow, that helps.
“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers.
“I’m not,” I lie. “But if you are, we can wait until later. When it’s dark and we’ve had mixed drinks at the crab party. Like normal people.”
“I don’t want to be normal,” he murmurs. “I want to be with you, weirdo.”
I arch a brow at him, fighting a smile. “I’m touched.”
“You should be,” he says as we step off the elevator on the tenth floor. A few steps later, we’re pushing into one of the suites and…wow.
Our room is fucking amazing.
A massive bed dominates the space, big enough to require its own GPS. The bathroom door stands open, revealing a tub that could double as a small pool. And yes, through the sliding doors is our balcony—with that jacuzzi I’ve been thinking about for the past hundred miles.
Late afternoon sun streams in, making everything glow.
I drop my suitcase and turn, my heart in my throat. “So, I—”
Before I can finish, his mouth is on mine, cutting me off with a kiss. His lips are rough and wild and certain, as if all his patience is finally gone, evaporated in the heat between us. His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones as he devours me like he’s been starving for this.
Starved for me.
His tongue strokes against mine, setting me on fire.
“Shower,” he says against my lips, one hand sliding down beneath the hem of my dress, brushing hot over my thigh. “I need you in that shower. Now.”
“Parker—”
“I’ve been good.” His teeth graze my neck, making me gasp. “So, fucking good. I don’t want to be good anymore, do you?”
“Hell no,” I say, fingers fumbling with his belt.
Before I can get him loose, I’m airborne, his hands cupped under my ass as he lifts me into the air, guiding my legs around his waist. My thigh brushes against his brace as he spins toward the bathroom—a reminder of everything we’ve been through, of just how far he was willing to go to be there for me.
And now, I’m finally ready to be there, too.
For him, with him—ready for the fire and the fall and however this cookie crumbles.
Chapter
Sixteen
PARKER
It’s happening.
It’s finally fucking happening, this thing I’ve dreamed about, longed for, wanted more than I’ve wanted anything since that morning junior year of college, pacing by the phone, praying for the golden ticket that would finally take me to the NHL.