Parker (Rich & Single #2) (4 page)

Call her.
Sitting on his couch with the TV flickering in the background of his awareness, Parker contemplated the cell phone he was holding in his hand. Was he really going to play into her game? She didn’t have any leverage on him. Not really. No matter how much she called him out, his clients were loyal. But that didn’t mean that if he refused to answer the challenge it wouldn’t be all over the tabloids that he’d been too afraid to go up against another trainer. And a woman, at that. Parker knew plenty of women in fitness – employed a good number of them, in fact. He knew just how hard they could push it. But not everyone felt that way.

Was he willing to let everyone think he was a coward? Could he pass it off as if he didn’t care about her challenge? Like he was so secure in his own ability that he didn’t have to answer her?

Would that actually do him any good, or would it just make people think he was arrogant?

She’d actually managed to back him into a corner he wasn’t sure how to get out of. Parker was almost impressed.

He ran a hand through his hair and set the phone down on the coffee table. Whatever he decided, he wasn't going to do it tonight. Jackson would want to have input. Anyway, it was too late to make a business call. Likely Jennifer was at home relaxing, too.

Maybe he would go out.

Parker glanced down at the time. Eight. Early enough that if he headed out now he could probably spend a couple enjoyable hours at one of the local clubs before he had to head home for bed. Might even find someone to spend a little of that time with, if he was lucky. And, man, did he need someone to spend a little time with.

So that settled it. He stood up from the couch and headed into his bedroom to go through the clothes in his closet, deciding what to wear. It was an easy decision. He pulled on a shirt, and fastened his pants, and then he headed out into the living room to scoop up his phone and tuck it into his pocket.

The club was a few miles farther into the city. Parker took the vehicle that didn't have the business logo on it, because he didn't really feel like being swarmed. He wasn't big enough that the paparazzi came after him when he went out without identifying logos, and the club wasn't big enough that there were likely to be any there just out of principle, but taking the truck was asking for attention he didn't really feel like getting. He wanted all the attention to be for him, not for his brand.

Parker pulled into one of the street-side parking spots and turned off the engine, then stepped out of the car, making sure to hit the button that would lock it before he headed inside.

It was a Wednesday night, and the line for the club wasn't long. The bouncer greeted him at the door with a nod and grin.

“Back so soon, Parker?”

Parker lifted one shoulder in a shrug and let it drop again, grinning back at Frank. “Hey, a man's got to do what a man's got to do.”

“True enough. Enjoy your night.”

With a nod, Parker stepped past him and into the club.

It was dark inside, colored lights flashing over the crowd on the dancefloor. The space wasn't packed, but there were enough people to make a respectable crowd. Parker made his way over to the bar and leaned against it on both elbows while he waited for the bartender to finish with the group of giggling woman he was currently serving.

“Parker,” the tall man said when he'd moved down from the other end of the bar. “What can I get you tonight?”

“You know me. Just whatever's on tap.”

A moment later he was being handed a glass. He dropped a twenty on the bar and took a long drink from the heavy mug. Then he moved out into the big main room, claiming a small table for himself at the edge of the dancefloor. Usually he'd jump out there right off, but some nights he felt a little more like watching first.

There was a handful of single girls. Others danced with big groups of friends, and Parker usually didn't bother approaching them. They were out for a night with the girls; he wasn't going to try to insert himself into that. Instead, he scanned for the women who were dancing alone. As he watched, he drank the beer. It wasn't enough to have him drunk by a long shot, but he wasn't looking to get drunk. He was looking for a better time than that.

Glass empty, Parker finally stood, weaving through the people on the dancefloor to get out close to the middle of it. Eyes lifted as he passed, and he saw more than one woman turn to whisper to her friends. The one he'd chosen looked up at him when he got closer, and he saw one of her eyebrows arch up toward her hairline in the shifting light. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Hey, there,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Coming this way?”

Parker stepped past the last person in his way and stopped just short of too close to her. “That was the plan.”

The slinky little brunette in front of him looked like the cat who'd gotten the cream, and he knew he'd made the right choice. He grinned, and held out a hand in offer. She laid her own in it, letting him pull her in and wrap an arm around her waist. Her own slid up to curl around his neck, and she danced up against him like she'd been waiting for him to show up all night.

“Name?” he said, bending down a little closer so he didn't have to shout over the music quite so loudly.

“Melissa.”

“Parker,” he offered in return. He heard her laughter through the driving beat, and felt her press a little closer, hips rolling.

“I know,” she said.

Parker almost stopped moving. “You know?”

“Oh, come on. It's not like you're not recognizable. I have access to the internet.”

That wasn't necessarily a red flag. Parker looked down at her.

“And what's your opinion of me, then?”

“That you're hot as hell,” she shot back, grinning. One of her hands slid down from his neck and over his bicep, fingertips tracing the ink of his tattoos. She watched it for a moment, then looked up at him, smiling. “So, you going to run for the hills yet? Or are you the kind of famous guy who gets off on knowing that your groupies want to fuck you?”

“You calling yourself a groupie?”

More laughter, and Parker found himself grinning despite his brief misgivings. Even knowing who he was, she obviously had no problem talking to him like he was just some guy off the street, and he appreciated that. Groupies were fine. Well, groupies were sometimes fine. The obsessed and worshipful stalker sort were totally not. He didn’t get too many of those, but the ones he did get had been more than enough to turn him off them for life.

“I'm calling myself a fan, I guess.” She ran her nails down his back with just enough pressure that he could feel them through the fabric of his shirt, and he reached down to palm her hips, dragging her closer. He was sure that she could feel him getting hard between them. She didn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, she arched closer against his body.

“Groupies are usually a bit too obsessed for my personal taste,” he admitted. “But a fan I think I can handle.”

Her hand strayed down to stroke over the curve of his buttock, then his thigh, like she was exploring the muscle there. She slid it back up, and squeezed. “You think you can handle me, then?”

It was his turn to laugh at that. “I know I can, sweetheart.”

She looked up at him with sparks in her eyes. “You're going to have to prove that, hot stuff.”

Well, no one could say that he didn't have a type.

Parker growled, leaning down for a kiss she enthusiastically returned, his hands tightening on her hips. One of hers was sliding up his back again, the other tangled in his hair and pulling just enough to make him feel the pressure. Her body rolled against his.

When they broke apart, he was panting for air, and so was she, her breath washing warm against his shoulder. She abruptly pulled out of his hands and spun so that her back was to his chest, pressing herself against him again. Parker leaned down to rest his head against her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist the way they had when he had first started dancing with her, and they moved together to the bass beat rocking through the club. When she tipped her head so that the long line of her throat was on display, Parker slid his hands down her thighs and back up again, rucking her dress up toward her hips, though he didn't take it any farther than was appropriate in a public space. He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck, and she turned her head enough to meet his eyes.

The song ended.

Parker straightened up, pulling back. “Want to get out of here?”

Melissa nodded, and threaded her fingers through his so that she didn't get left behind as they worked their way back through the milling bodies and out to the edge of the room.

“Anything you need to pick up?”

“My purse is in one of the lockers.”

He leaned back against the edge of the bar while she went to get it, arms crossed over his chest, and watched the sway of her hips.

“You ever dance more than one dance with anyone?” the bartender asked behind him. “Or are you just that good?”

Parker laughed. “I dance more than one dance, sometimes. Most nights, though, the second dance is private.”

That got a chuckle out of the bartender.

They didn't have time to converse any further. Melissa was back, her purse slung over her shoulder, and she let Parker lead her out of the club and into the warm night.

“You drive here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Took a cab. I didn't want to have to worry about getting too drunk to drive back home. You?”

“I've got my car. I'll give you a ride home in the morning.” Parker hit the button to unlock the vehicle, and watched her eyes widen a little as she realized which car the sound of the locks opening had come from. The sleek silver convertible wasn’t exactly practical, but even he occasionally bought something that wasn’t. It had looked like too much fun to turn down, and his instincts had definitely been right.

“Can we take the top down?”

He laughed, and opened her door for her. “Anything for you, babe.”

In the car, he hit the button that would retract the top while she reached into her purse for something that proved to be a hair tie. She wound her long curls into a tight braid, and then grinned across the seat at him. “Not quite as sexy as hair blowing back all loose in the wind,” she said, “But trust me when I say you don't want to deal with the result of that.”

“I don't think you need an allure-boost,” Parker answered, and she laughed. He pulled out into the street, and started back toward the apartment.

“So,” she said over the noise of the engine and the wind, “Parker. What’s a famous person like you doing slumming it in a club like that?”

“I actually live pretty close to here,” he said, because she would find out anyway as soon as they pulled into his apartment complex. “I like it a little quieter. Midtown was too busy for me.”

“I saw your interview in
Rich & Single
. Country boy.” Her tone was teasing.

“Then you know what I'm doing slumming it,” he said in the same tone. “What about you? Are you slumming it?”

“I'm a brand new editorial assistant at one of the smaller publishing companies. I was splurging.”

He turned onto his street and turned his head enough to look at her for an instant before he turned his gaze back to the road.

“What is it you do there?”

“Pretty much exactly what it sounds like, to be honest. Eventually, if I don’t turn out to be too terrible at my job, I’ll be an actual editor. But for now I'm mostly the assistant to the people doing the job I really want. I fill out a lot of paperwork. And fetch a lot of coffee.”

Parker chuckled. “That's the problem with those high-end jobs. You start so low on the totem pole. At least in blue collar work everyone is pretty much equal. You actually get to do what you took the job to do.”

“Blue collar? That's not exactly what I would call a job as a personal trainer to the rich and sort of famous.”

“I started in construction work. The gym is something else.”

He slowed the vehicle, and turned into the lot for his apartment complex, taking his usual space. When they were parked, he rolled the roof back up, then went around the car to open Melissa's door for her. She gave him a smile and took the hand he offered, stepping out of the car carefully on her high, spiked heels.

“You know,” he said, holding out an arm for her to put her hand on, “I don't know how you wear those things.”

“It's not as hard as you'd think it would be. Mostly you just have to know where to put your weight.”

Parker wasn't sure he believed that, but he didn't have the experience to argue with it. “I'll take your word on that.”

They stepped into the building, and he led her to the elevator. They were the only ones who stepped into it. The door slid shut, and he wrapped an arm around her to tug her close. She laughed, and arched up higher on her toes to kiss him. Parker was more than happy to oblige.

When the car dinged at his floor, they reluctantly separated. He let her take his arm again, and they went down the hall to his apartment, where he opened the door and ushered her in, locking it behind them.

In the light from the overhead lamp, she looked a little less put together than she had at the club. He could see that her eyeliner was smearing, and her lipstick was a little messy from the kisses they'd shared. Glitter from somewhere was scattered across her cheekbones. He didn't think she looked any worse for it. The little black dress she was wearing, however, would look a whole lot better on the floor.

“You need anything? Water?”

She shook her head, and reached down for the hem of the dress, pulling it up over her head like she had read his mind, and dropped it at her feet. Then she slid the hair tie from her hair, finger-combing it loose again around her face. The curls fell over the bare skin of her shoulders, and down her back, and Parker couldn't quite resist the urge to step forward and wrap his hand up in it, using it to gently tug her head back as he claimed another kiss. His free hand settled on the small of her back, pressing her forward. He felt her fingers curl around his shoulders for support.

They kissed, long and slow, both of them lazily exploring each other's mouths, and when they broke apart he was half hard again. He let his hand slip from her hair.

Her eyelids fluttered open. “You know,” she said. “I was expecting something a little different.”

“Different?” Parker asked, but he already knew what she meant.

Back at the club, the teasing had promised a night that slow and lazy didn't apply to. If that was what she wanted, Parker was glad to give it to her.

“You think you're ready for that?” he asked, taking a step forward.

She didn't back down. “I'm game if you are.”

His hands caught her around the backs of her thighs, and he lifted her easy as anything. He'd benched more than she weighed. Melissa laughed delightedly. Slim arms wrapped around his neck, and her legs around his waist, and Parker let his hands slide up to cup her backside instead, working his fingers over the muscle. He moved toward the bedroom.

Her teeth nipped at his throat, his collarbone. Parker moaned.

“Anyone ever tell you that you're impatient?”

She laughed against his skin. “All the time.”

“As long as we're clear.”

He dropped her down onto the bed, and she wiggled around on her back until she was comfortably settled. Parker crawled across it to kneel between her thighs.

“So, impatient Melissa, what is it you want from me?”

Parker curled his fingers in the waistband of her panties and began dragging them down. He did it slowly, and she was writhing in his hands before they had even reached her knees.

“Fuck. Want you to touch me.”

The panties went over the edge of the bed, and he stroked his palms up her legs from ankle to thigh, nails dragging against the skin to wake goosebumps behind his touch. She gasped.

“Like that?” Parker inquired, like he didn't know.

“My clit. Fuck. Please.”

“So worked up already,” he murmured. “Are you this eager after just one dance?”

“What did I say about hot?” she shot back at him. “I can't help it if you're a walking wet dream, Parker. Come on. Please touch me.”

He tilted his head and looked down at her, hands sliding slowly between her thighs. She was looking back at him with wide eyes, her pupils big and dark in the green of her irises. Parker hummed like he was thinking about her request and whether or not he should grant it.

His hands pulled her thighs open wide, and she whimpered and bucked on the bed.

“Into that, are you?”

The noise and the helpless little jerk of her hips had been answer enough, but she nodded a little frantically, and Parker grinned. Slowly, he settled himself down between her thighs, his broad shoulders keeping them spread wide.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” she answered instantly. “On me. Please. I need it, Parker.”

“Need it...” He leaned in close enough that she would be able to feel the heat of his breath against her wet, sensitive skin. “I don’t know about that.
Need
seems a little extreme.”

She growled above him, and he grinned.

“No? You really do need it, babe?”

“Fuck, yes. Please.”

She writhed, and he looked up to watch the undulation of her body, the way her fingers curled in the sheets.

“I suppose I might be able to do that for you,” he said finally.

He leaned in and slid his tongue up the curve of her sex, and she moaned loud enough that he was a little worried the neighbors would hear. In the next instant, he decided he didn't care. Another slow lick, and he heard her nails scrabble at the sheets, her legs trying to close around the width of his shoulders. Parker laughed against her skin and she gasped his name.

“That what you wanted, sweetheart?” He pulled back enough to ask, licking the taste of her from his lips.

“No. Fuck. Don't stop.”

“Not what you wanted?” He stroked a hand up the inside of her thigh, close enough that his thumb brushed against the apex between them, and she whimpered. “I thought you said touch you.”

“I did. I do. Damn it, Parker. You’re a tease.” She lifted her head enough to glare down at his too-pleased grin, and then dropped it back to the bed with a frustrated little huff. “Please. Lick me. I want you to.”

“Well, in that case...”

He licked her again, then pulled her clit between his lips. She proved just how much of a screamer she was. The neighbors were going to hate them. Parker really didn't care what they thought. He liked the way she gasped and whimpered and yelled with his mouth on her. Liked the way her hands tugged at the sheets and her body rocked pleadingly up toward the stroke of his tongue.

This time, he didn't draw back to tease her. Just kept licking, occasionally pausing to press kisses to her skin while she writhed and begged. One of her hands dropped down and almost slid into his hair, almost tugged at him, but then she pulled it away again to yank at the sheets instead.

Her thighs shook against his shoulders. He picked up the pace a little, and lifted one of the hands that had been holding her leg to slide a finger inside her. It went in easy, and he pulled it back to add a second. One thrust, two, and then she was coming around him, her body gone tight under his hands and his mouth.

Slow and gentle, Parker drew his fingers out and pulled away.

“That what you were looking for, babe?”

“Fucking hell,” she whispered.

He laughed. “I'm going to take that as a yes.”

She swatted at him, but the motion was slow, and he easily avoided it. His cock, still trapped in his pants, made him newly aware of its presence. Parker pulled his shirt off over his head, and then reached down to unbutton his jeans. Melissa blinked up at him, and he saw new hunger spark in her eyes. Seemed like maybe she had a type, too.

“Like what you see?”

“I want to lick every inch of your body.”

She flushed as soon as she said it, like she hadn't meant for the words to leave her mouth, and Parker paused in unzipping his jeans to lean down with one hand braced against the bed and kiss her.

“I think I could maybe be into that,” he said as he pulled away, and it was her turn to laugh.

He finished unfastening his jeans, and turned around to yank his shoes off, pulling the jeans off after them and throwing those and his boxers aside. Then, completely naked, he reached up and unfastened her bra, tossing that off the bed to join the rest of their clothes.