Page 40 of This Wild Heart

I snapped upright on a gasp.

My shit. All over the guest space.

“Parker,” I yelled.

The door burst open, his flushed face poking through. “What’s wrong?”

“My stuff,” I hissed. “It’s all over the guest room. What if Logan and Paige want to see your place?”

There was no hesitation. He started yanking hangers out of the closet, darting across the hall to shove it in his own. With jerky movements, I opened my cosmetic bag and swept my hand over the counter, shoving it all inside.

By the time I had the bathroom cleaned up, he’d moved all my clothes from the closet, only a sports bra and a pair of leggings crumpled on the floor, leftover from my workout. I flung it in his direction as soon as he came back into the room, and he caught it deftly, an amused crook to his lips when he realized what it was.

“Flinging your bra at me already, wife?” He hummed, holding it up to his nose. “Slow down a little bit.”

I snatched it out of his hands, ignoring the low, amused chuckle as I flung it onto the floor of his bedroom. “Don’t pick it up,” I told him. “It looks more realistic.”

“Like I tore your clothes off after you’d worked out?” Parker whistled. “Nice touch. Sounds like something I’d do.”

“You are insufferable.”

I was so full of shit. I’d suffer that gladly, and if he looked too hard into my face right now, he’d probably see right through me. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and if I looked down—which I had no intention of doing—I had a feeling my nipples would be very on board with that scenario too.

“So I’ve heard.” I followed Parker down the stairs, and he glanced out toward the front patio, where he’d unlocked the gate for Greer. “Should we wait outside? Pretend we’re excited this is about to happen?” He gave me a loaded look. “You know she’s gonna ask you a million questions.”

“I can handle questions. I know way more about you than you think. Your ass should be worried about Logan and Paige.”

He waved that off. “I was raised in the same household as Greer. Strong women don’t intimidate me.”

I tapped my chin. “Remind me what you said when you interrupted my workout earlier?” I held up my hands like he’d done. “Please don’t hit me.”

Parker’s eyes heated, and I felt my stomach pitch and roll, an invisible swoop of a roller coaster I didn't realize I was riding. “Oh, golden girl, that wasn’t intimidation I was feeling.”

Curiosity was as powerful as the involuntary clench between my legs, both of them a bright shock to my system as he took a step closer. “Golden girl?”

He raised one big hand, but before he touched my face, his thumb brushed the line of my neck as he slowly pulled the damp braid from behind my shoulder and toyed with the ends. “Golden,” he repeated. “That dress you were wearing at the wedding. Your hair. Your skin.” His eyes traced over my face. “Those freckles you can only see when you’re this close. I wonder what they taste like,” he whispered, almost like he hadn’t intended to say it out loud.

Lust crashed through my chest, pumping straight through my heart and funneling outward until my hands tingled at his proximity. He smelled so good. An errant thought broke through, wondering if I slid my nose along the base of his throat, if the smell would be stronger there.

This was what I’d been missing.

The crackle of electricity, the potency of not knowing what might happen next. Not once had the air gone thick with this violent sort of anticipation in all my years with Max.

It wasn’t safe. It definitely wasn’t steady, and it called to some long-ignored part of me that craved the opposite of those things.

It was foolish to think about this for too long, to wonder why it seemed to come naturally between Parker and me.

His eyes lingered on my mouth, his fingers still toying with the ends of my hair. Slowly, he prowled forward until my back hit the wall. Parker’s free hand came up by the side of my head, caging me in to where I stood. I tried not to fidget, but I refused to touch him with any sort of intent. Not just yet.

But my chest heaved, and for a moment, he glanced down at where our bodies almost touched, a shiver wracking his massive frame as we hovered on the edge of a precipice.

Once we tipped over, there’d be no undoing it.

There were a thousand reasons not to, maybe even more. We both had so much riding on this, and still, just standing this near to him, I was ready to unhook the metaphorical parachute and sprint right off the cliff’s edge.

His eyes were heavy-lidded as he stared down into my face like he was just as drunk on this proximity as I was.

“Can you pretend with me tonight, golden girl?” he asked, voice low and urgent, tight with need.

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