Page 112 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
She arches a mischievous brow. “And what are you going to do with the cake batter, Mr. Parker? Might I ask?”
“You’ll see,” I promise.
And see, she does…
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
MAKENA
Later that night, after Dad’s gone home, Nana’s tucked into the guest room, and my kick-ass chocolate cake to rule all chocolate cakes is in the oven, Parker shuts the pantry door behind us—the mixing bowl in hand and a determined look on his face.
“Dress. Off. Now,” he orders, stalking me until I’m pressed against the shelves.
“We’re going to get salmonella,” I warn, but I’m already tugging the pink fabric over my head.
I let it fall to the ground, leaving me in nothing but the sexy “good luck” panties Charlotte insisted on buying me this morning.
And theyhavebeen good luck…
But I have a feeling we didn’t need it.
Parker and I make our own luck, and I hope we always will.
“Worth it,” he murmurs, his gaze tracking up and down my body. “God, look at you. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, loving the way he looks at me.
Lovinghim.
I love him, and he loves me, and that happy ending I’ve been hoping for is right around the corner. Only, it’s not an ending.It’s a whole new beginning, complete with a boyfriend who loves me, a fresh start in the suburbs, and an armadillo in a tutu Nana brought all the way from Oxford just for me.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this much gratitude, all at once.
I’m about to tell him so when Parker cocks his head with a tragic sigh. “But those panties are going to be a problem.”
I glance down, then back up, arching a brow. “What? Why? I think they’re cute.”
“Theyarecute. Very cute, and I don’t want to stain them.” His thumb hooks into the waistband of the lace on one side, tugging just enough to make my breath catch. “But I have chocolate in this bowl, F.C., and I need to play with it.”
“And play withme,” I murmur, grinning as he nods. “Well, then, why don’t I just make sure they’re out of your way?”
A beat later, my panties are off, too, and Parker is spooning chocolate cake mix onto my nipple.
The batter is cold against my skin—thick and sticky—sliding down the curve of my breast before Parker catches it with his tongue. The shock of it makes me yelp, then laugh, then moan, as he licks me like he’s starved for my skin. My nipple goes tight under the scrape of his teeth, and heat floods between my legs.
I grab the shelf behind me for balance as he drizzles chocolate over my other breast. It drips toward my ribs, and he follows the trail, licking, sucking, making us both groan.
“Parker, we have another problem,” I whisper, my voice breathy.
He glances up, chocolate smeared on his lips. “Yes?”
“You missed a spot.” I tilt my hips.
His grin is pure sin as he murmurs, “Fuck, you’re right. Let me take care of that right away.”
A second later, my very bad man is on his knees again, spooning batter low across my belly, smearing it with his fingers, licking it off one slow stroke at a time. When his tongue slidesbetween my thighs, I nearly collapse, gasping his name, grinding against his mouth like it’s been way more than thirty-something hours since he made me come.
