Page 11 of Lovers at Seaside
“Tomorrow,” Abe said firmly. “Same time.”
She turned and gaped at the old man. “I’m herenow.”
This time Grayson was the one who shook his head, warning her into silence.
“Tomorrow,” Abe repeated. “Don’t be late.”
Chapter Four
IT TOOK A colossal effort for Grayson to hold his tongue as he and Parker left Abe’s suite and headed for the elevator. Parker was visibly shaken, but she kept her game face on much better than he did. Grayson clenched his teeth so hard he was afraid they’d crack, hoping to remain silent long enough to calm himself down before he cursed a blue streak and told Parker what he really thought of Bert for leaving the letters that led her here.
The second the elevator doors closed, Parker grabbed his face and pulled him into a scorching-hot kiss, turning all that anger into white-hot desire. He backed her up against the wall, pressing his hard frame into all her supple curves. She clung to the back of his neck, filling his lungs with her sexy moan and setting loose all the pent-up lust he’d been holding back. His hands moved over her hips, around her waist, up her back, earning another sexy sound that brought his mind to dark, erotic places. He rocked his hips against her, and when her nails dug into his flesh, it yanked him from his steamy fantasies. She felt so good, tasted so sweet. He wanted her now, here. He wanted more of her, more than he’d ever wanted from any woman before, because beneath his hunger for sex and seduction was the passion to protect her with everything he had. She was vulnerable, sad, and angry, and he couldn’t take advantage of that; he had to protect her from himself. Now.
He drew back, kissing her more tenderly, and finally, reluctantly, pulling his mouth away completely. She pressed her fingers harder against the back of his neck.
“Kiss me, Grayson,” she pleaded.
The ache in her voice shot straight to his heart, shredding his control, and he claimed her again, deeper, harder, wanting her to feel what he felt for her, setting free ten months of pent-up emotion.
When the elevator stopped, he reluctantly pulled back again. Parker’s eyes fluttered open, and he couldn’t look away, wondering what had caused the unexpected—and exquisite—assault.
She cleared her throat, fidgeted with her blouse, her shorts, tucked her hair behind her ear, and when the elevator doors opened, she said, “That should help you relax.”
Holy cow, was she for real?
He matched her quick pace as they crossed the lobby. “Is that what that was?”
“Uh-huh.” Her eyes remained trained on the doors as they pushed through and stepped outside. “Wasn’t that why you kissed me?”
It had started out that way, but he’d enjoyed every second of it.
She slipped on her sunglasses, walling off her emotions, and motioned to the valet. He should have taken care of that, but his blood was still pooling below his belt.
The hot afternoon sun had nothing on the charged sexual tension sparking between them as they waited in heated silence for the valet to bring her car. He was acutely aware of the leers from nearly every male on the premises. Jealousy clawed at him, an unfamiliar and frustrating emotion, but there was no way he could do a thing about it. He struggled to tune out the ogling men, fighting the urge to claim her with another flaming kiss, because if he did, he was afraid he wouldn’t stop there. It didn’t help that she kept touching her lips, as if she was battling the same excruciating resistance. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from acting on their own. If only he could turn his brain off, too.
When the valet brought the car, he whipped out his wallet and handed him a few bucks, then opened the passenger door and motioned for Parker to get in. When she didn’t, he removed her sunglasses so he could see her eyes—which were so full of lust it nearly stole his voice.
“You’re safer with my hands and mind occupied.”
Her breathwhooshedout. “I…Um…”
He guided her into the seat and closed the door, wondering how he’d resist her when they gotoutof the car.
PARKER’S MIND SPUN. She’d kissed Grayson in the elevator to calm her nerves as much as his, because he’d looked like he was ready to blow and she’d been on the verge of exploding with disappointment and anger. But after a second, as with their first kiss, she’d stopped thinking at all and had succumbed to the greediness burning inside her, taking as much of him as he was willing to give.
On the way back to Wellfleet, his eyes were trained on the road, giving her a moment to really look at him. His thick, inky black hair looked finger-combed. The muscles along his chiseled jaw jumped to a frantic beat. His sleeves strained across his rigid biceps. He held the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles blanched. He was so different from the men she knew. Actors tended to be slimmer all over, less masculine, prettier. There was nothingprettyabout Grayson. Even his name was rugged. On looks alone, he was all sharp edges and bulbous, hard muscle. But she’d already gotten a glimpse of his tender side, and when he spoke to her, there was nothing rough about his rich, soothing voice. Like the emails he’d sent her, every word felt important, made just for her.
His eyes darted to her, catching her staring.
“You okay?” He looked at the road again.
Um, not really.“Sure.”
“What’s going on in your pretty head? Just spit it out. It’s better that way.”
“I wasn’t…I don’t…”
“You were, and you do,” he said with an air of seductive authority.
