The Penthouse Pact

by Cathryn Fox

  “Holy fuck,” he growled as she drew him to the back of her throat. He grabbed her hair, twisted it around his hand, and watched her work her mouth over him. He grew thicker beneath her tongue, and she reveled in the taste and texture, loving that she could make him so hard.

  “Stop,” he commanded in a soft voice, and she pulled back, her mouth still open as she glanced up at him. “Jesus,” he said, and dropped to his knees. He gripped the hem of her sweater, and she lifted her arms to make it easy for him. In one quick pull, he removed it. Then with an ease she didn’t want to think about, he unhooked her bra and tossed it away. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth to her bare breasts. Strong hands gripped her ribcage, and he bent forward to run his tongue over her quivering nipples.

  “Yes,” she said and gripped his head to shamelessly hold him to her.

  “You like that, huh?” he said.

  She writhed, and he gently nibbled on one nipple, the combination of pain and pleasure unlike anything she’d ever felt, and she wanted more. “Don’t stop.”

  “Don’t plan to,” he murmured. Slowly, methodically, he caressed her nipples, alternating between breasts, licking and sucking and rattling her to her very core. The sensual overload nearly fried her brain.

  With her mind and body spiraling out of control, he gave her a little nudge on her shoulder, and she soared backward, falling against his mattress. Her hair splayed, and she widened her legs in invitation as he kicked off his pants and shorts to stand before her completely naked.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, a hungry gleam in his eyes as his gaze moved over her body. He leaned in and tapped her hips. “Lift,” he said.

  He growled as she raised her hips the way he liked. Deft fingers went to her button and he popped it, shimmying her jeans from her hips. He touched her panties, running the lace between his fingers. Lacking any kind of modesty, she moved beneath him, trying to force his hand where she needed it most, and leaving no question as to what she wanted.

  “In a hurry are you?”

  “Parker, please. I need you to touch me.”

  “Oh, I will. Eventually. But I plan to take my time, tonight,” he said, his voice rough with lust as he wet his bottom lip. “Oh yeah, I’m going to slowly reintroduce my mouth to your body this time, Layla.”

  “Oh, God,” she cried out, then bit back an impatient moan as he leisurely stripped the lace from her hips. His fingers grazed her inner thighs, his rough fingertips igniting her blood to near boiling.

  She ached deep in her core as he leaned over her. He moved with grace for a man of his size and strength. His tongue skimmed down her body, awakening so much desire in her it was almost frightening. As his mouth danced on her skin, she whimpered, needing him to end the sweet torment before she went up in a burst of flames.

  Red-hot need gripped her, and she shivered in delight at that first sweet touch of his tongue to the hungry spot between her legs. Her hips came off the bed. “Yes,” she cried out.

  “You taste so fucking good,” he said. She went up on her elbows to see him. Her pulse leapt. Watching him work his tongue over her sex had to be the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. He pushed her thighs farther apart, giving himself better access as he ravished her with his mouth. Ripples of sensual pleasure overtook her, and she wanted to hang on, but the second he pushed a finger inside her, a tremor worked its way through her body, and she let go.

  “Parker,” she murmured as she rode out the ebbs and flows of a powerful climax. She took deep, gulping breaths, the room around her swirling as she gripped at him, running her fingers through his hair.

  When her tremors subsided, he stroked her sex softly, dropping gentle kisses on her body that turned her on all over again. She tugged him to her, and he kissed a path back to her mouth. She ran her hands over the hard contours of his shoulders and back as he shifted to press his hot mouth to the hollow of her throat.

  Her flesh burned wherever he touched, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on the erotic sensations. She moaned and whimpered, her body growing so needy for him again. She writhed beneath him and his crown pressed between her legs.

  “Shit, condom,” he said.

  She held him to her. “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.”

  “I’m clean, too. I always use a condom.” His gaze raced over her. “Are you sure about this?

  “Positive. I want to feel you. Parker, please…” Lightly scratching his back, she put her legs around him and tried to draw him in, but he only gave her one glorious inch at a time. Honest to God, this slow seduction was going to be the death of her.

  She rocked against him, moving, pressing, seeking what her body craved, and finally, finally he drove all the way inside her. “Yes,” she cried out, barely able to catch her breath as he filled her. He pumped, his hips jerking forward, but then in a move that took her by surprise, he rolled, pulling her on top of him.

  As she straddled him, taking him deeper than ever into her body, her cupped her ribcage, and ran his thumbs over her breasts. God, she’d never felt such a deep level of intimacy before. He lifted her slightly, only to pull her back down again. She trembled, the pleasure so exquisite, another orgasm pulled at her.

  He reached behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his. Gentle yet rough, caring but selfish, he powered into her, driving, pounding, seating himself as deeply as possible as his mouth moved over hers, kissing her like he couldn’t get enough. A pleasure so intense it stole her breath gripped her, and she gave herself over to it, letting it take her higher and higher until she tumbled over the edge a second time. Her sex clenched, and she closed her eyes against the flood of heat. Parker cursed under his breath, like he was trying to hold on for her.

  “Parker, come inside me,” she whispered, and he stilled, the hand on her neck tightening as the tension eased from his body as he let go. When he stopped throbbing, he rolled again, until he was on top of her. He pushed her hair from her forehead, and the warmth and tenderness in his eyes twisted her up inside as she breathed in his warm, familiar scent. He stroked her arm, his fingers sliding softly over her bare skin. This time his touch was different, deeply intimate, doing the strangest things to her insides. Unnerved by the things she was feeling, she swallowed, and when the oven timer went off, she was grateful for the distraction.

  Parker grinned. “That was good timing,” he said, rolling off her.

  Her stomach was so tight she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat now. “I hope you’re hungry. I made a ton of food.”

  “Starving,” he said. “Take your time to get dressed, and I’ll turn the timer off.” He pushed off the bed, went to his closet, and grabbed a pair of jeans. He pulled them on, and she stared at his wide back as he dashed into the hall.

  Feeling completely out of sorts, she climbed from the bed and pulled her clothes back on. A shower would have to wait until after dinner. She caught her reflection in the mirror and ran her hands through her hair. After putting herself back together to the best of her ability, she padded down the hall, and when she found Parker in the dining room, rubbing his chin and looking over the place settings with haunted eyes, her heart stalled.

  “Parker,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah,” he said without lifting his gaze.

  “You okay?”

  He nodded. “I’ve just never had a meal in here before. The table looks…nice.”

  “It’s Thanksgiving,” she said, shrugging. “I thought this would be better than sitting at the kitchen island. Makes it feel more homey, you know, and makes me realize how much we have to be thankful for.”

  His head lifted slowly. “What are you thankful for, Layla?” he asked, his eyes narrow, serious as they locked on hers. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he stared at her, but there was a tenderness about him that held her captive, a gentleness she’d only ever seen during their lovemaking.

  Lovemaking?

  She swallowed the knot in her throat before answering his question. “I’m
thankful for a roof over my head, clothing, food.”

  Being here with you.

  “I’m thankful for those things, too.”

  “Speaking of a roof over my head. My apartment is musty. I left the window open to air it out, but it’s livable again. I can move back in tomorrow.”

  He went quiet for a moment. “If it’s musty, why don’t you wait until after we return from Maine?”

  “Okay,” she said readily, too readily. She should have argued with him. He would have expected that, right?

  Cripes, the last thing she wanted was for him to think she wanted to stay here with him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Parker pulled the collar up on his coat and paced outside the college, waiting for Layla to emerge after her presentation. With mid-December upon them, the temperature was dropping rapidly, and the night air was getting cooler. Finally the front doors flung open, and students filed out, making their way to their cars or to the local pub to celebrate. He searched the crowd, and his heart beat a little faster when he spotted Layla. She gave him the thumbs-up, a huge smile on her pretty face. Warmth settled in his stomach, pushing back the cold. He hurried to her, and scooped her up, and when she laughed, the sound went right through him, heating him even more.

  “It went well?” he asked, as she cuddled up to him.

  “Really well,” she said, and he couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss her and didn’t care who was watching. Which was strange, he was always so careful in public. He brushed his lips over hers, and when she kissed him back, he breathed in her sweet scent and held her tighter, never wanting to let her go. She just felt so right in his arms. Fun to be with, easy to talk to, and the way she fell so easily into the role of his fiancée rattled him a little bit.

  Up until Layla, he lived by a certain set of rules, but now, well…he just wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

  He inched back, and her eyes were still closed. His heart squeezed as he took in the smile on her face. When her lids opened, her breath caught, and her smile widened. “I feel a million times lighter.”

  “Good.” He checked his watch. “Let’s hurry. Our reservation is for seven.”

  “I told you we didn’t have to go out to celebrate. I could cook something for us at home.”

  Home.

  Shit, over the last month, she’d cooked every night and filled his walls with paintings she had at her place—not to mention the scattering of her clothes and books—and had turned his sterile, orderly apartment into something that resembled a home, rather than a staged museum.

  “I want to go out. You’ve been doing all the cooking, and I want to do something nice for you.”

  She nudged him playfully. “Oh, you’ve been doing nice things for me.”

  “Cut it out,” he warned. “We’re in public, and I’m in dress pants.”

  She laughed, then looked at her own clothes. “I’m in jeans. I should change before dinner.”

  Desire stirred as he looked her over. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  “Seriously, Parker. I’m underdressed for Lucien’s.” She frowned and crinkled her nose. “Then again I’m not really sure I have anything appropriate for a place like that.”

  Damn, the last thing he wanted was for her to feel out of place. “Okay, fine. Come on.” He slid his hand over hers and tugged, leading her toward the mall. “Let’s get you a dress.”

  She pulled away from him. “You’re not buying me more things.”

  Her took in the defiant lift of her chin, but the more she protested, the more he wanted to do for her. “This is kind of about me and not you, though. You need a dress for the wedding anyway, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So lets get it now, and you can wear it tonight, too.”

  She opened her mouth and he said, “I roped you into the wedding, so I’m responsible.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Parker, how do you do that?”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Turn everything around until you get your own way.”

  He laughed. “First rule of negotiation: know your opponent.”

  “You think you know me, do you?”

  He looked at her, and it occurred to him that he really did know her. She’d been in his bed for weeks, his apartment for even longer. “Yeah, I do.”

  She poked him in the chest, and he captured her hand, pulling her fingers to his lips. “Well I know you, too, dude.”

  “Really, if you know me so well, what am I thinking?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and opened her mouth, but when her gaze met his, sexual awareness leapt between them. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m thinking that after dinner, I want to take you home, strip off your clothes, and put my mouth all over your body.”

  Her indrawn breath filled the air, and he touched her hair. “Is that what you’re thinking, too?”

  “It is now.”

  “So do you want to stand here and argue about the dress, or get to dinner quicker so we can get home faster.”

  “Let’s go,” she said, and hurried her steps.

  He pulled her tightly to him as the cool night air fell over them, and they made their way down the lantern-lit streets. As they passed a couple dark figures crouched near a building, Layla slowed.

  “Jo, is that you?”

  “Layla.”

  Jo stood, and Layla gave her a hug, then she pulled back to look her friend over. “Your coat. How…when?”

  Dressed in a knee-length Canada Goose coat, Jo turned, reached into a bag and produced the old coat Layla had given her. “Here, you can have this back.”

  Layla stood there, eyes wide as she looked at Jo’s new coat. “No, keep this. Someone else might need it.”

  “No,” she said. “Coats were distributed to everyone. Look at Blaine.”

  A man on the ground dressed in a bomber-style coat, lifted his hand to wave, and Layla gave a slow shake of her head. “Someone just distributed them?”

  “Yup.” Jo winked, and sat down next to her friend, tucking Layla’s old coat back into her bag. “Santa Claus I think.”

  “Yeah, Santa Claus,” Layla said, her head slowly angling Parker’s way as she gave her friend a little finger wave.

  “What?” he said, holding his hands up palms out. “I have no idea who did this.”

  She narrowed her eyes, but a ghost of a smile played on her lips as they started back down the street toward the mall. “No?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Guess you don’t know me so well after all.”

  “Well, whoever did this was pretty sweet, and if I knew him, I probably would have done something very, very nice for him.”

  “Damn, sure wish it was me.” She went quiet, but the smile on her face filled his heart. At least now she’d keep her damn coat on and not give it away, even though her generosity was one of the things he really liked about her.

  They hurried to the mall and found an upscale dress store. He stood back as she looked over the dresses, and she produced a blue one, the color beautiful with her skin. “I like it.”

  “Are you just saying that so you can get out of here?”

  Hanging out in woman’s dress store wasn’t his favorite thing. “Partly,” he said.

  She laughed. “I’ll just be a second.”

  He followed her to the back of the store and sat in one of the wing-backed chairs as she slipped inside the fitting room. She began humming, and the sound made him smile. He liked when she was happy.

  The door opened, and his breath caught when she came out. “Beautiful,” he said, his gaze raking over her.

  She spun around, showing him the slit in the back.

  “It’s a bit tight. I think I need to go up a size.” She gazed at herself in the mirror. “I’m kind of putting on weight. All the meals I’ve been eating.”

  It was true. She had put on a bit of weight, but it looked good on her. “You’re gorgeous, Layla.”

 
“You’re just saying that so I don’t stop cooking for you.” She frowned and poked him in the shoulder. “How come you’re not putting on any weight?”

  “Ah, been working it off,” he teased.

  Her cheeks warmed, and she glanced around to make sure no one heard them. But shoes clicking on the tile floor heralded the sales lady’s approach.

  “You look amazing in that dress,” she said.

  “I think I need to go a size up,” Layla said, slipping her flats on to see how it looked with shoes.

  “I’ll grab it for you, and if you’re interested, I have a great pair of shoes that will look gorgeous with it.”

  “No—”

  “Yes,” Parker said, cutting her off.

  The lady disappeared and came back with a larger size and the sexiest shoes she’d ever seen. Layla slipped into the dress and shoes, and emerged again.

  “I feel better in this one,” she said, and then stuck her foot out. “And these shoes.”

  “We’ll take everything,” Parker said. “If you could just remove the tags, she’s going to wear it out of here.”

  Layla gathered her jeans and sweater, and when she came back out, Parker put his mouth next to her ear and said, “The shoes stay on tonight.”

  Chuckling, they made their way to the front of the store. After clipping tags and paying, they stepped back out and made their way to his car. A few minutes later he pulled up in front of Lucien’s, and Layla stared at the place with big eyes.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  She nodded. “But you’re not going to order one of everything are you?” she teased.

  “If you can’t decide what you like, I might.”

  She laughed and poked him. “You’re crazy.”

  “Come on.” Even though she no longer had a concussion, he still walked to her side of the car and held his hand out to guide her out. They made their way inside, and he helped her from her coat and handed it over to the hostess. Another hostess guided them to a quiet table in the back, one he reserved for privacy.

  “This place is amazing, Parker.”

  “Wait until you try the food. Not as good as yours, though.”