Page 52 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
When I hiss like an angry snake, he pulls me against his hard body and says into my ear, “That spanking you’ve had coming since we met. You need it. Now.”
I don’t have time to pick up my jaw from the floor before Parker has led us across the room, up a curving staircase, and into a shadowed upstairs hallway, deserted of everyone but us.
SIXTEEN
Parker pulls me into the first room at the top of the stairs. It’s a library, dimly lit, with a single banker’s lamp on an oak desk across the room, bathing the room in a deep green glow. The walls are packed floor to ceiling with books. Two overstuffed armchairs flank an occasional table. A burgundy velvet sofa faces an unlit fireplace. I don’t have time to see more, because as soon as we’re inside, Parker turns, grasps me by my upper arms, pushes me against a wall of books, and kisses me.
God, the way he tastes. Heavenly.
He breaks away, breathing hard. “Luciano Mancari? Is that your idea of a joke?”
“It’s my idea of a gentleman! You don’t see him dragging me off by my hair like a caveman!”
He doesn’t like this response. He growls, “When I go caveman on you, Victoria, you’ll know it!” He kisses me again, harder this time, his hands pressed against my head, his tongue invading my mouth.
I give myself a few seconds to enjoy it before I pull away, cock back my arm, and slap him across the face.
His head snaps back. His eyes glow with anger. That familiar vein in his neck throbs wildly, an erratic pulse that matches the pounding of my heart.
In a harsh, barely controlled voice, he says, “I’d appreciate it if you could find another way to deal with how uncomfortable you are with how much you like kissing me.”
“You smug son of a bitch!”
“You coward.”
I gasp, enraged. “You…you…philanderer!”
His chuckle is dark. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, baby.”
Baby. I can’t decide if him calling me that makes me want to sigh or scream.
We stare at each other. The moment stretches out. The tension rises until it becomes almost unbearable. Then, without a word, he gathers my wrists in his hands, presses them over my head against the books, and presses his chest against mine. He rests his cheek against my temple. I feel how hot his face is, how bunched with tension the muscles are in his jaw.
“You did so well yesterday, Victoria,” he murmurs into my ear. “All that truth-telling. Did the nasty little lies get worried they’d never come out to play again and force you to act like that asshole you’re afraid you’ll die as?”
I’m so angry my entire body trembles. I want to kick myself for being stupid enough to tell him the truth about anything, even if it was part of a plan to disarm him. This man can’t be trusted with even a single grain of truth.
“How dare you throw that back in my face?” I say through gritted teeth.
He moves his face from my ear and stares into my eyes. “Because I’m going to call you out on all your bullshit. Because I won’t be one of your whipping boys. Because I’m not a man you can fool.” He adds sourly, “Belíssima.”
My laugh might very well be the bitchiest sound ever to leave my body. “You’re calling me out on my bullshit? Mr. ‘every time I see you I get this funny feeling’? What a crock of shit!”
“I didn’t say it was a funny feeling. I said it was a feeling. And it’s one I can’t describe, because I’ve never felt it before, and that’s the goddamn truth!”
“Oh, really? All these indescribable feelings and not even twenty-four hours later you show up with Lolita on your arm? Who do you think you’re dealing with here, Parker? I practically invented the word deception!”
His eyes flash. His hands tighten around my wrists. “Holy fuck. You’re jealous of her, aren’t you?”
“Screw you.” I turn away, avoiding his eyes.
A tremor passes through his chest. After a moment, I realize it’s laughter.
He’s laughing at me.
Furious, humiliated, wanting to scratch out his eyes only I can’t because he’s got my hands pinned over my head, I glare at him.
Still laughing, he says, “You arrive with your stupid, pretty pet on a leash—a pet I’m ninety percent sure was selected just to annoy me—and have the balls to be jealous of Marie-Thérèse?”
