Page 67 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
“You should be,” he says as we step off the elevator on the tenth floor. A few steps later, we’re pushing into one of the suites and…wow.
Our room is fucking amazing.
A massive bed dominates the space, big enough to require its own GPS. The bathroom door stands open, revealing a tub that could double as a small pool. And yes, through the sliding doors is our balcony—with that jacuzzi I’ve been thinking about for the past hundred miles.
Late afternoon sun streams in, making everything glow.
I drop my suitcase and turn, my heart in my throat. “So, I?—”
Before I can finish, his mouth is on mine, cutting me off with a kiss. His lips are rough and wild and certain, as if all his patience is finally gone, evaporated in the heat between us. His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones as he devours me like he’s been starving for this.
Starved forme.
His tongue strokes against mine, setting me on fire.
“Shower,” he says against my lips, one hand sliding down beneath the hem of my dress, brushing hot over my thigh. “I need you in that shower. Now.”
“Parker—”
“I’ve been good.” His teeth graze my neck, making me gasp. “So, fucking good. I don’t want to be good anymore, do you?”
“Hell no,” I say, fingers fumbling with his belt.
Before I can get him loose, I’m airborne, his hands cupped under my ass as he lifts me into the air, guiding my legs around his waist. My thigh brushes against his brace as he spins toward the bathroom—a reminder of everything we’ve been through, of just how far he was willing to go to be there for me.
And now, I’m finally ready to be there, too.
For him, with him—ready for the fire and the fall and however this cookie crumbles.
Chapter
Sixteen
PARKER
It’s happening.
It’s finally fucking happening, this thing I’ve dreamed about, longed for, wanted more than I’ve wanted anything since that morning junior year of college, pacing by the phone, praying for the golden ticket that would finally take me to the NHL.
She’s wrapped around me, legs locked at my waist, and it feels like I was built for this. For holding her, carrying her, taking her exactly where we both need to go. My hands grip her ass, palms guiding her higher as I propel us toward the bathroom.
Her mouth drags over my neck, her tongue tracing fire along my skin until I can barely breathe. My cock throbs hard against the press of her body, every nerve lit up and blood rushing fast. Her nails dig into my shoulders, the desperation in her touch echoing down my spine.
“Jesus, Mack,” I gasp as she nips at my pulse point, marking me like she’s claiming her territory.
And I’m here for it.
I’m ready to be hers, for her to be mine, for the final walls to drop, leaving nothing but her and me and how perfect it is between us.
“Touch me.” She slides down my body, every inch of contact making me want to howl. “Touch me everywhere. Please. Everywhere.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I growl, cranking the water on in the shower before spinning back to take care of her.
We tear at each other’s clothes like the monstrous things they are, these stupid barriers keeping us from finally being naked together. Her sundress catches on her earring. My shorts get caught in my knee brace. We’re graceless, desperate, laughing and cursing as we wage war with cotton and spandex.
And then, there she is, in nothing but white lace panties and a matching bra I can see through and…
My brain short-circuits.
