Taken by the CEO (The Scandalous Wentworths)

by Stefanie London

  Eliminating the competition for what? This isn’t The Hunger Games.

  “Of course not. You’re absolutely deserving based on your work alone.” He reached for his wine. “At least from what I’ve seen. You still owe me that communications plan, by the way.”

  “Yes, sir.” She rolled her eyes. “I bet you’re a delight at family gatherings. Do you boss your brother and sister around over dinner, too?”

  “That would require me to attend family gatherings.” Parker downed half his glass in one long gulp. Funny how any mention of family had him drinking like a fish.

  “Right. So you haven’t changed your mind?”

  “No.”

  Emmaline offered a sad smile. “Are you not close with your siblings?”

  “We used to be.” The words shriveled up on his tongue. He couldn’t imagine what his brother and sister were saying about him right now…actually, he could. It wouldn’t be pretty. “The whole family scandal thing didn’t do good things for our relationship. Apparently, they don’t feel as strongly about infidelity as I do.”

  “Oh.” Her cutlery clicked as she speared a piece of pasta with her fork. “They’ve forgiven your dad?”

  “My sister has. He could never do anything wrong in her eyes. And my brother…” He let out a breath. “He’s too absorbed in his own world, plus he always sides with her. Which makes me the odd one out. I’m like the juror who won’t give in to the majority vote.”

  “That’s a tough spot to be in.”

  “Yeah, it is. But he put his own desires before the well-being of his family. All he thought about was what he wanted.” Parker raked a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t one slip up, either. He kept this woman and their child a secret for years. Beau was born before Sydney, but we had no idea.”

  “And your dad married this woman?” she asked. He nodded, reaching for his wine and taking a long gulp. “Have you ever thought that maybe he fell in love with her? People do stupid things when they’re in love.”

  “Then why not call things off with my mother first?”

  She sighed. “He probably thought he was protecting you.”

  “If that’s the case, he made a huge mistake. Secrets don’t do anything but make the truth more painful when it inevitably comes out.”

  You’re such a fucking hypocrite. Hadn’t he been blowing off the guilt over his actions not moments ago?

  “You’re certainly a straight arrow,” Emmaline said, sipping her wine.

  He shook his head. “I’m not perfect.”

  “But you damn well try to be.” Her sweet lips curved into a smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I like a guy with morals. Especially with my history. But people make mistakes.”

  “Not like that, not when they know 100 percent that what they’re doing is wrong. Have you forgiven your husband for cheating on you?”

  “You know, in the grand scheme of things the cheating wasn’t the worst thing he did to me. If anything, him cheating saved me from more years of unhappiness. I’m glad there was a catalyst for me to get myself out of that situation.” She pushed her pasta around her plate. “Besides, you forgave me for lying.”

  “That’s different.”

  Part of him was sick of the fighting with his family. Sick of holding onto his anger so tightly that it left him in isolation. But what else could he do, give up on his values? Let them win?

  “You didn’t hurt anyone,” he said carefully. “You didn’t cheat on anyone.”

  “That’s true.” Her voice was sweet and smooth like honey, but he detected a darkness beneath the sugary tones. Something bitter. A faint resentment?

  “Besides, I forgave you because I like your company.” He winked and she swatted him across the table.

  “You like something of mine.”

  Truthfully, he liked the whole package. The contrast between her softness and her sass, her beauty—both on the outside and the inside. He was drawn to her from all angles.

  “I’m sure I’ll like your apple pie,” he said as he rolled up the sleeves on his business shirt.

  “Only you could make apple pie sound dirty.”

  “It’s a gift.” He finished his wine and topped them both up. “How about we fast forward to dessert?”

  She stood, leaning across the table to collect his bowl, bending forward in such a way that she gave him an eyeful of her breasts uncontained beneath the dress. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, and his mouth watered at the thought of drawing that long zipper down inch by inch. Possibly with his mouth.

  “Would you like ice cream with your pie?” she asked.

  “I would.” He pushed up from the table.

  She raised a brow and stacked his bowl on hers. “Do you think I need supervision in the kitchen?”

  “I’m trying to be helpful.” There was no way he could hide the hungry smile that pulled at his lips. “Isn’t that what a good guest would do?”

  “You don’t fool anyone, Parker Wentworth.” She headed to the kitchen and he followed, taking the time to enjoy the way her body moved slowly and sensually.

  “Sounds like you have me all figured out.”

  The kitchen was designed in white wood with elegant neutral trimmings. A silver teapot sat on a tray with two white china teacups. The pale monochrome room exaggerated the boldness of Emmaline’s black dress and blue heels. It showed she was out of her comfort zone and experimenting…with him.

  The knowledge surged through him like a drug.

  “I don’t know if I have you all figured out, but I’m certainly getting closer.” She placed the dishes in the sink and retrieved dessert from the oven.

  There was something inexplicably sexy about a woman in a hot, barely there dress and oven mitts. “Do tell.”

  “Do you want to prove me wrong?”

  “Let’s call it curiosity.”

  “Well.” She looked him up and down. “I think you’re a lot more committed to relationships than you think.”

  That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. Steam curled up from the pie, and Emmaline took a second to breathe in deep, her eyes closed and lips formed a satisfied smile. For a moment, he could see their future—her baking on the weekends with a child sitting next to her on the countertop. Their cheeks and noses dusted with flour. He’d come in, capture her from behind and breathe in the smell of her hair.

  That’s not even a fantasy—it’s a complete and utter myth. You’ll never have that because it doesn’t exist.

  “You’re worried about the way your actions are affecting your siblings,” she went on, removing the mitts as she reached for a knife. “I get the impression part of you wants to make up with your father.”

  “I don’t,” he said bluntly.

  “I think you do.” The knife made a clinking sound as it hit the bottom of the pie tin. “There’s part of you that wants to trust, you just don’t know how.”

  “Don’t get any ideas in your head that you’ll be able to teach me how to trust.” She was a lot of things, but Emmaline wasn’t a miracle worker.

  “Oh, I won’t. You know I’m only in this for the orgasms.” She gave him a saucy wink, but something didn’t quite ring true in her voice.

  That unsettled him. Greatly.

  But whether that was because the thought of her wanting more would mean he’d need to end things with her or the fact that he’d too started having those niggling “what if” moments himself, he couldn’t be sure.

  …

  Emmaline must have been trying to subconsciously push Parker away. Why else would she be probing him about his family and his past? It was none of her business. They didn’t have that kind of relationship.

  Hell, technically they weren’t even friends.

  Maybe it was because she could already see the way things were going to end. Knowing that he was on the panel to decide the ASTAR applications was a huge red flag. If she got in now, she’d never know whether it was because she deserved it or if it was because Parker wanted to
continue getting into her pants. Not only that, if anyone else found out about their relationship, she’d lose all the credibility she’d worked so hard to build.

  And that wasn’t a risk she could accept.

  There were only two ways forward: end things with Parker or withdraw her ASTAR application so she could keep seeing him. But then she’d be no better than she was when she’d married Conrad—she couldn’t keep sacrificing things for men.

  One more night. Indulge yourself and then you can figure out how to end it tomorrow.

  “I think you should make amends with your family, for what it’s worth.” She shoved the swirling thoughts to one side and reached above her to pull down two plates from the cupboard. “You never know when you won’t have that opportunity anymore.”

  “Is that all you’ve figured out?” He raised a brow.

  “You also have an unhealthy obsession with blue shoes.” The heels clicked as she walked to the freezer and grabbed a tub of vanilla ice cream. “And I think you’re a dessert man.”

  “Damn straight. Sugar and spice and all things nice…” He came up behind her and splayed his hands over her hips. “I might be addicted.”

  “You have to be careful not to have too much. It’s bad for your teeth.” Her bottom wriggled back, and he wedged her against the counter with his hips. God, he was so hard already.

  “I don’t care if it kills me, at least I’ll die happy.” He stifled a moan as she swished back and forth.

  “Don’t die yet, I’m not finished with you.” She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “I still have to figure out what else you like.”

  “You know exactly what I like.” He spun her around and pressed himself into her, wedging a thigh between her legs. “Teasing you. Tasting you.”

  A small moan stuck in the back of her throat when he rubbed his thigh up and down, creating sparks inside her. If they didn’t stop the teasing soon, she’d explode…and not in a good way.

  He took the spoon from her hand and dug it into the tub of ice cream. Her eyes fluttered shut, pulse racing as he pushed the dessert between her lips. A frisson of his excitement zipped along her nerves as he leaned in close, his breath warm on her ear.

  “I bet you taste even better now,” he whispered.

  “So come and find out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  His lips slanted over hers and his tongue pushed into her mouth with an edge of aggression. His kiss was cold and hot all at once. Emmaline vaguely heard the clatter of something hitting the floor—probably the ice cream.

  But she didn’t care, all that mattered was joining her body with his. God, she wanted him with a feverish desperation. Every cell in her body craved him.

  “Parker,” she gasped. “Touch me.”

  Unable to stop herself, she ground against his thigh, rolling her hips to generate as much friction as possible. Nothing he gave her ever seemed to be enough. Her desire was insatiable.

  One hand came to her breast, roughly tugging the neckline of her dress until skin met skin. His palm was hot as it cupped her, his thumb and forefinger rolling her hardened nipple with the right amount of pressure. Thank God, she hadn’t bothered with a bra.

  “That dress,” he growled, bowing his head to her breast and sucking where his fingers had been a moment ago. His hands came around to her ass and kneaded, his fingers slipping beneath the elastic of her lacy underwear. “Fuck, Emmaline. Were you trying to torture me wearing that thing to dinner?”

  “I wanted to be sexy for you.” Her head lolled back and her hands yanked at his shirt. They needed to be closer. So much closer.

  “You’d be sexy in a paper bag.” He nuzzled her other breast before grabbing the material of her dress with his teeth and pulling back until her other breast sprang free. “You’d be sexy in a bag of kale.”

  A giggle bubbled up in her throat. “No one would be sexy in a bag of kale.”

  “Yes. You. Would.” His teeth scraped her nipple and arrows of pleasure drove through her. “You drive me absolutely wild, Emmaline. I can’t get through a day without imagining your taste on my tongue. I think about burying myself between your sweet thighs every night.”

  “Me, too.”

  His head popped up. “You think about burying yourself between your own thighs? Holy hell, please tell me you’re flexible enough to do that.”

  “You know what I mean.” She swatted him and he laughed against her breast. “I think about you.”

  “Do you touch yourself?”

  She couldn’t hold back a grin. “That’s between me, myself, and I.”

  “There’s two more of you?” He bent and pressed a kiss to her navel. “How do you feel about group sex?”

  “I never picked you to be such a joker.” She threaded her fingers into his hair, bucking as his lips came to the sensitive spot between her legs.

  “I’m not, usually.” He peppered kisses along the seam of her hip. “It must be you bringing out my funny side.”

  “And you bring out my sexy side.” She yanked his head back to her center. “And my demanding side.”

  “I like your demanding side.” Goose bumps rippled across her skin as he slid her panties down. “But I’ve got the plans for tonight.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Uh huh.” He traced the seam of her sex before pushing his finger inside her. “I’m going to get you off, and then I’m going to fuck you on this counter. Then I’m going to take you outside and fuck you again.”

  “Parker,” she moaned. Between the naughty talk and his skillful hands, she had no hope of hanging on.

  “But we’re not going anywhere until you come.” His thumb nudged her clit, moving in slow circles so that orgasm built up slow and steady inside her. “I want to feel you clench around my finger. I want you to be ready for my cock.”

  “Uh,” she’d started to say something, but the words disappeared and her brain couldn’t manage to keep her upright and form sentences. Tremors wracked her body and she held on, fisting her hands in his hair and in his shirt.

  “You’re close, baby. I can feel it.” He moved his thumb faster. “Are you going to come for me?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. Tremors wracked her body. “Oh God, yes.”

  There was nothing delicate or teasing about the way he’d brought her to orgasm. It was hard and quick and needy.

  “Time for step two.” He hoisted her up onto the kitchen bench and nudged her legs apart.

  “So bossy,” she teased, her fingertips grasping at his black leather belt. Yanking the buckle, his hips jerked as they worked to undress him together.

  “I know what I like.”

  Deft fingers popped the buttons on his shirt—one, two, three. Then he was bare chested, and Emmaline couldn’t help but stare. He was smooth and fair, with a hint of a tan that said he might have been running without his shirt recently. Her mouth watered at the thought.

  “You seem to know what I like, as well.” She splayed her hand over his chest, rubbing a flat nipple with her fingertip.

  “You don’t exactly leave me guessing where your needs are concerned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s easy to tell what you like.” His pants and boxer briefs hit the ground, and he stood before her like a god. “You’re expressive.”

  “I’ve been told that I’m not good at communicating what I want.” Conrad had said it on more than one occasion, that keeping her happy was like digging for buried treasure with a toothpick.

  “I can see it all over your face.” His hand reached up to slide along her jaw, his thumb skating over the corner of her lip. “You’re beautifully expressive when you’re turned on. I can tell when you like something because you close your eyes and tip your head back.”

  A warm feeling kindled in her chest. This might be casual sex, but Parker made her feel as though she was the most important person in the world when they were together. As though he were giving her his whole attention, making their tim
e together the only thing in his focus.

  This was a new feeling to her. Trying to get time with her ex had always felt like an imposition. While he hadn’t come right out and said it, she knew what her role was; look pretty, be quiet, and stay in the background until he wanted something from her. But Parker made her feel like she was the most precious thing on the earth, like he wanted to devote himself to her entirely while they were together.

  “You also make this adorable little sound.” His hand came down the side of her neck, his thumb pressing ever so slightly against the center of her throat. “Right here.”

  If anyone else touched her like that she’d push them away, but Parker’s possessiveness made her feel wanted. Desired. With him, she was safe.

  “Very observant.” She reached down and wrapped her hands around his erection.

  The weight of him, heavy in her palm, made her blood pulse hotly. She liked being able to learn his body without being self-conscious. Stroking him slowly, she moved her hand in a slight twisting motion, and a guttural moan shattered the quiet air.

  “Emmaline,” he breathed.

  Hearing her name said like that—like he could barely hold on—sent a shiver down her spine. “I want you inside me. Now…please.”

  “Don’t be polite.” He planted his hands on her hips and pulled her right to the edge of the countertop. “I want you to be rude and pushy and loud. Demand what you want.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  He retrieved a condom from his wallet and sheathed himself. “You can. Just stop worrying about how it sounds.”

  “What should I say?” She gasped when he positioned himself at her entrance.

  For a moment, he held back, teasing her with his cock, rubbing it up and down against her. “I want you to tell me exactly how you feel when I’m inside you. Tell me what it does to your body, what it does to your mind.”

  She let out a gasp when he entered her, burying himself to the hilt. The whoosh of blood in her ears almost drowned out the sound of her own excited moan. Every part of her body sung. He planted one hand on the counter next to her, and the other tangled in the hair behind her head, starting a slow and steady rhythm.