Afraid she’d never take that beautiful fall.
But then he gripped her shoulders, arched and thrust hard, groaning as he shattered.
And the sound of her name on his lips as he came pushed her off the ledge. A fiery electric pleasure shot through her veins, and her orgasm burst, painting colorful fireworks behind closed lids.
With a mumbled ‘Parker,’ she collapsed against him, and let herself be swept away by the aftershocks.
* * *
The smell of leather and sex filled Amber’s nose as her breathing finally slowed enough for her to think straight. Bit by bit she became aware of the hard chest under her cheek, Parker’s pounding heart gradually recovering beneath. They’d managed to shuffle their way to the thick rug in front of the wrought-iron coffee table. Now, sweat-slick bodies cooling in the aftermath, she was draped across Parker, her palms resting on his shoulders.
His hands, however, were resting by his sides.
Parker gripped her arms, gently shifting her off, and her chest cinched tight at the movement. ‘I should find my clothes,’ he said, his voice rough from exertion.
She briefly pressed her lids tight, knowing he was doing more than pulling away physically. He was pulling away mentally, too, and the memory of his words punched the breath from her throat.
You know this is all you get, right?
Pushing up on her elbows, she stared at Parker. The sex had been fantastic, and now his soft hair was spiked in all directions, delectably mussed by her fingers. His cheeks were flushed from the energy he’d expended. And he’d exerted a good deal of energy.
After they’d finished the first round, while Amber was still limp and essentially incapable of thought or movement, he had rolled them over onto the rug, pinning Amber beneath him. And started in on her again.
No one had ever made her feel so sensual.
No one had ever pulled so much pleasure from her body.
But he didn’t want more.
She watched him rub a hand down his face with a faint frown on his mouth, and a memory rose, unbidden, in her mind.
That last fateful summer she’d caught Susie and Parker making out, and while it was clear he knew exactly what he was doing, there was no emotion behind the act. As if he could have replaced Susie with either of the other two girls he was dating and been just as happy. And while, yes, horny teens were pretty much a given, from what Reese had said Parker hadn’t changed his ways much.
Random women, random relationships and nothing that lasted longer than a few months.
Amber’s gaze landed on his holster draped across the arm of the couch, an idea forming in her head. He wouldn’t like it. Heck, he might even wind up hating her for it. But getting the stubborn man to let someone in, even if it was his sister and not Amber, suddenly overwhelmed everything else—even her intense need to flee the presence of the man she’d so shamelessly seduced.
The one who seemed incapable of wanting more.
Chest tight, nerves taut, she reached for his holster, and when he reached for his pants...
She snapped the handcuffs around his wrist.
FIVE
The click of the cuff around his wrist snagged Parker’s immediate attention.
Rolling onto his back again, he stared up at Amber. Her hair was mussed, her lips bruisingly red from his kisses, and guilt pierced his chest. So, yeah, things had gotten a little rough there toward the end. But he was only so strong, and Amber’s frantic words and feverish hands had hacked away at his control until he really shouldn’t be held responsible for what came after.
The guilt stabbed harder, anyway.
‘Okay,’ he said, his voice like gravel as he dangled the handcuffs in the air, his body twitching with interest. ‘I’m assuming you want another round.’
The edgy smile, the blush that crept up her face and the way she shifted her eyes to the left had him chuckling.
‘For the record, Ace—’ he stretched out his leg, resting on his elbows ‘—any woman who goes for the handcuffs has no business being nervous.’
She stared at him a moment more and it was as if she was looking everywhere but at his groin. Which wasn’t the only part of his body that wholeheartedly approved of the addition of restraints, but it was the only part that could communicate its consent.
And then Amber reached for his boxers.
Frowning, Parker simply watched as she hooked the underwear on his feet, sliding them up his calves.
He lifted a brow. ‘FYI,’ he said, ‘the addition of handcuffs usually means you’re taking the clothes off, not putting them back on.’
Ignoring him, she slid the boxers higher.
Now he was really curious.
‘Okay, I’ll bite,’ he rumbled. She met his gaze as he lifted his hips to allow her to pull his underwear into place, and he sent her a smile. ‘You got a clothes-on fetish, right?’ The thought sent a thrill working its way down his back, wrapping around his growing erection. ‘I can work with that.’
Now that he was covered, she scooted until she was resting against the coffee table.
‘No fetish that I know of,’ she said. ‘I just can’t concentrate when you’re so naked.’
She reached for the loose end of the handcuffs, looping it through the ornate leg of the wrought-iron coffee table before clipping it around his other wrist.
Totally intrigued now, he grinned at his helpless position—which was really kinda hot.
‘That’s one of the advantages of being naked,’ he said. ‘The inability to focus on anything else.’
Gaze admiring all the creamy skin before him, he took in the curve of her breasts and hips.
He shouldn’t encourage her. He shouldn’t be so weak. He shouldn’t crave absorbing that mesmerizing light radiating from her expression. From her eyes. Seemingly from her very skin.
But he needed just a little bit more.
Desire licked at his limbs and his voice reflected his thoughts.
‘You just need additional practice,’ he said. ‘And I’m—’
She reached for her blouse and slid it back over her head, and Parker stared, stunned. And while she had been rendered mute by the sight of him naked, he had a similar problem with the vision of her putting her clothes on.
When she picked up her underwear and pulled them into place, he finally found his words.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he asked.
She studied him for a moment, and Parker was briefly grateful that the long expanse of her legs was available for admiring.
Amber said, ‘You clearly aren’t a man who likes to cuddle.’
The statement slammed into him. ‘Cuddle?’
So what if the word spit from his mouth with a vengeance. He didn’t like the turn in the conversation.
‘And if there is anything that Parker Robinson needs,’ she went on, eyeing him steadily, ‘it’s a good cuddle.’
Heart thumping in agitation, he was sure he made a ridiculous sight, what with being handcuffed to a table leg and his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
When he finally found his voice again, it was rough. ‘Amber—’
‘We’re going to talk, Parker.’
The swearword that echoed through his mind wasn’t fit to be uttered out loud.
Scooting over to sit by his side, Amber’s eyes settled on his. ‘Why didn’t you answer the phone when your mother called the day your father died?’
The one-two punch to his chest had his jaw falling open wider, and then he slapped his lips shut, his mouth growing grim.
‘Damn it, Amber,’ he said, struggling to prop up on one elbow, despite the restraints. ‘We’re not high school sweethearts.’ Frustrated he couldn’t even plow a hand through his hair, he went on. ‘Let me up.’ Anxiety pressed in on his chest, leaving it difficult to draw in a breath. ‘I don’t want—’
She gently cupped his cheek, her thumb landing at the corner of his mouth, and he froze, unable to do anything but blink like an idi
ot.
Looking up at her, he wanted to curse and rant and rail against the understanding in her eyes and the bloody confinement of the cuffs. He finally managed to pull off a sparse rattling of the chain between his wrists.
Which, unfortunately, earned him a gentle swipe of her fingertip along his lower lip. It was just a simple stroke, barely noticeable, but the tenderness curled like a knot in his belly.
‘Why?’ she asked again.
He lobbed a hard look in her direction and didn’t spare the truth. Sweet little Amber wanted to know, so sweet little Amber was going to hear.
‘You were following me that day,’ he said. ‘You heard what she said.’
Amber didn’t pretend she had no idea what he was talking about.
Her gaze warm on his, she said, ‘I heard some of what your mother said, yes.’
Unsure of which parts she’d missed, he gave her the full version. ‘Marrying my father was a mistake.’ His next words came out louder than he’d intended. ‘I was a mistake.’
Letting the words echo in the room, he forgot to breathe for a moment.
‘I was just a symbol of everything my mother had done wrong,’ he said. ‘Of everything she regretted.’
None of it mattered.
The mantra had served him well in the past. He’d learned as a kid it was best to exist on the surface and ignore or bury or compartmentalize the rest. Because it was the rest that bit you in the ass.
Be polite to your mother, but don’t try to get her to show you she cared. Hugs weren’t necessary, but an occasional expression of some sort of affection would have been nice. He’d given up looking around the age of ten.
None of it mattered.
Or at least, that’s what he’d told himself.
Until the summer he was seventeen and he’d tried again. But the years of being the rowdy boy who only got noticed when he got into trouble had taken a toll. Maybe by then his mother couldn’t have cared, even if she’d wanted to.
‘She hated my father’s job,’ he said. ‘Looked down on what he did for a living.’
And Parker had despised her for being such a snob.
‘Which was exactly why you followed in his footsteps,’ Amber said as, still cradling his cheek, she stroked his lip again.
His mouth twisted beneath her finger. Man, she always was such an observant little thing. Even as a too-sweet, freaky stalker of a kid.
‘Maybe in the beginning,’ he said, though he knew she was absolutely right. Growing weary of his awkward posture, he laid down on his side. ‘But now...’
Well, not right now. Cuz right now everything was dull and flat and he got little enjoyment out of much of anything. But there was a time when helping victims’ families find justice had been incredibly satisfying.
‘You’ve always been good at taking care of people,’ she said.
Barking out a laugh of disbelief, he tilted his head as he stared up at her, amazed she was still cradling his face. Strangely, he was starting to like the comforting feel of her palm.
‘Who did I take care of?’ he said.
‘Reese,’ she said. ‘When we were kids, anyway.’
She gazed down at him, like she had as a kid. The same light in her eyes. He just didn’t get it. What did she see in him then? What did she see in him now?
And then she went on. ‘And you took care of me....’
He couldn’t talk about how he’d felt that summer he left his mother’s home and never went back. As a seventeen-year-old he’d been too cool to admit he’d missed Reese’s and Amber’s company. As an adult it seemed too late to confess the truth.
With a huff of humor, he said, ‘You’re just saying that because I saved you from drowning.’
Finally dropping her hand from his face, she sent him a small smile. And he didn’t miss her touch. Not at all. Damn it.
‘Your father loved you,’ she said, and he swallowed back the groan.
Apparently, nothing in his history was sacred.
His dad hadn’t been the type to hug or tell you he cared with his words. But he’d shown him in other ways.
‘But then he died,’ Parker said, and he hated the way the words came out so harsh. So bitter. He tried to ease the mood with a small smile, failing by a mile. ’Cuz life is mostly just a nasty little bitch who’s looking to collect.’
Amber’s expression shifted into one of sadness and he hated that he put that look on her face. The urge to take it back, to put a smile on her mouth, was overwhelming. And then suddenly she was crawling over him and sliding onto her side to lie next to him. Shocked, he didn’t move as she wiggled her way up between his cuffed arms, settling against him as she embraced his chest.
Staggered by the comforting contact, the press of b odies from torso to toes, he took a moment to respond.
‘You know,’ he said dryly, ‘I don’t do the morning-after thing.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’
‘And hugs don’t count if they’re not freely given.’
‘I know,’ she said as she gave him a gentle squeeze. ‘That’s why I’m freely giving this one to you.’
Paralyzed, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Silence stretched between them as they lazed on the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms. His by force. Hers by choice
And it was really intimate in a way that sex usually wasn’t, and wasn’t that just the kicker?
Something in Parker shifted. Just a little, but enough to voice the thought he’d been having for weeks. ‘Plenty of people have it worse than me,’ he said quietly.
He didn’t know why he needed to say the words. Other than the fact that they were the brutal truth. And if there was anything he was comfortable with, it was the brutal truth. Maybe it was the comfort of her arms that seduced the words from his mouth.
‘Who?’ she asked. ‘Who has it worse?’
He didn’t want to look into her eyes, so he stared up at the chandelier on the ceiling. ‘I’m working on this case,’ he said. The dark cloud encasing his heart grew thicker, denser. Something he hadn’t thought possible since the day his dad had died.
An acid rain just waiting to break.
‘Our current suspect is just a stupid seventeen-year-old,’ he said. ‘And his parents...’
He didn’t want to repeat the words they’d said about their son.
‘You know,’ he said instead, his voice hoarse. ‘Family should stick by you, no matter what.’
Man, now the woman had both hands on his cheeks.
Turning his head to face hers, her gaze clear, she said, ‘Yes, they should.’
Staring into her amber eyes, he clenched his jaw.
The case had been eating at him for a while, draining what little color remained in his already-mucked-up life. He refused to lean into the warmth of Amber’s palms, but the urge was there. He remembered the stricken look on her face when she’d overheard his mom that day, and the comforting hand Amber lay on his shoulder later.
Not that he’d wanted her sympathy. No, he’d hated the caring in her touch, the gesture of concern from a twelve-year-old when he couldn’t even get that kind of emotion from his own mother.
Something in him had died that day, something vital that he’d lost. And damned if he knew how to get it back. He was pretty sure he didn’t even want it back.
Blocking Amber’s beautiful gaze, Parker closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his breathing even. She held his face, and her sweet scent surrounded him, the silky legs entwined with his. But it was the warmth of her body that captivated him the most. Surprisingly, he wasn’t really thinking of her skin in a sexual sense, but more of the gentle give-and-take of shared heat. It was refreshingly simple. And kind of nice.
Like a handful of summer sun on a dark winter’s day.
But the unfamiliar feeling of comfort, of contentment—of...happiness?—scared the bejesus out of him.
Parker didn’t know how much time passed as he grappled with the dueling urges to push her
away or pull her closer. Maybe he should do something more productive, like bang his head against the nearest wall.
‘You’re right, family should stick by you,’ she said, and he lifted his lids. ‘No matter what.’ Amber raised her chin to look up into his face, her eyes warming him in ways he’d never imagined. ‘Which is why you should come to your mother’s dinner party,’ she went on, and Parker didn’t bother suppressing the groan.
Christamighty, not this again.
‘To support Reese,’ she went on.
Without warning, she slid down from between his arms, and he instantly missed the feeling of warmth.
That tiny bit of...security, for lack of a better word.
‘You should go to the party, Parker,’ she said again.
After sitting up, she slipped on her jeans. Her shoes came next, and he absolutely did not panic that she was dressing to leave. Because that would be a stupid thing to do.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because your sister loves you,’ Amber said as she stood to look down on him.
Something inside him rejected the notion, and not just because Reese had never said so in as many words.
‘And if you can’t do it for Reese,’ she went on. Her voice dropped an octave, creating an ominous pressure in his lungs. ‘Then do it for me.’
This time the word came out harsher. ‘Why?’
* * *
Reese stared down at Parker, her heart pumping wildly in her chest.
‘Do it for the kid who saw you as worthy of adoration all those years ago,’ she said.
The rest was on the tip of her tongue as she hesitated. But her insecurities suddenly seemed so insignificant compared to all that Parker had been through. He deserved the truth. He needed to hear the truth.
So she went on. ‘And do it for the woman who’s falling for you now.’
Denial, exasperation and a massive dose of confusion flared in his eyes just before he slammed his lids shut, muttering, ‘Damn.’
She hadn’t started out intending to share so much. But suddenly her choice to tell Parker the words that were so simple and complex, the words she was pretty sure he’d never heard in his life, was important—not just for Parker, but for herself. An extension of her decision to finally fight for what she wanted. And she wanted this man in her life.
The First Crush Is the Deepest Page 22
