Page 42 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
“Three other people besides me know about your heart condition, correct?”
My smile is wry. “Actually, if you want the complete truth, it’s four. I wasn’t counting my doctor before.”
“OK. But you know what that means, don’t you?”
The faint lilt of humor in his voice makes me both wary about the direction he’s headed, and relieved that we might be past all this emotional bullshit. “What?”
“You have to tell me something no one else knows. Only then will we be even.” He reaches up and strokes my cheek. His voice drops. “Make it good.”
My brows lift. “Better than the heart condition? How many secrets do you think I have, Mr. Maxwell?”
For the first time since we entered the kitchen, his smile is genuine. “I’d guess you need a closet the size of an airplane hangar to hide all your skeletons, Ms. Price.”
I can’t help it; I smile back. “That’s a very useful talent, to be so charming while you’re insulting someone. I need to add that to my arsenal.”
Now he laughs. The sound sends a rash of goose bumps crawling up my arms. He takes my face in both his hands. His voice lowers. “I think your arsenal is plenty well stocked already.”
“There you go again with the charming insults. Whatever shall I do with you?”
Parker’s eyes are getting heated. His face is close to mine. I fight the urge to flatten my hands against his broad chest, and instead leave them hanging loosely by my sides.
“And there you go again, channeling Scarlett O’Hara. What did I tell you about that, Ms. Price?”
“To the best of my recollection, Mr. Maxwell, you said that Xena, Warrior Princess, was far preferable to my transparent attempts at being coy. Perhaps I should run you through with a sword?”
He watches my lips with avid attention as I speak. One step closer, and his body is flush against mine. I can’t retreat any farther; the kitchen counter is pressed against my bottom.
I’m trapped.
In an incredibly intimate, sexy voice, Parker demands, “Tell me something no one else knows about you, Victoria. Not your doctor. Not your friend Darcy. Not even your mother. Give me something that’s only for me. And then we’ll be even. And then we can really begin.”
My mouth goes dry. “Begin what?”
He sweeps his thumb across my lips. “What we both want.”
“Which is?” My voice comes out breathy. Stupid voice.
Parker presses his pelvis to mine. His erection leaves little doubt as to what it wants, but just to underscore it, Parker murmurs, “Everything.”
We’re eye to eye, breathing erratically, both of us unmoving. The tension between us crackles like a live wire. He sees some flicker of doubt in my eyes, or another emotion that makes him warn, “And don’t you dare tell me anything but the entire, unvarnished truth, or I will put you over my knee, and it won’t be for fun.”
For a brief moment, I close my eyes to escape him.
When I open them again, I’ve realized I might be getting more than a few scratches and bruises by the time I’ve reached the bottom of this six-foot hole I’m so merrily digging.
Looking into his eyes, I jump over the edge of the cliff, and confess.
“I’m afraid of the dark. Clowns and small children terrify me. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to die alone with one too many cats, an
d it will be weeks before my body is discovered because no one in the whole world gives a shit about me, because I’ve been such a complete asshole my entire life.”
As if he’s just discovered how cold fusion works or he’s found a cure for cancer, a look of wonderment dawns over Parker’s face.
He breathes, “You’re so goddamn beautiful,” and, for the second time tonight, crushes his mouth to mine.
THIRTEEN
These kisses of his, they’re addictive. Sexy, demanding, and so crackalicious I’m certain he could sell them on the street and make millions.
