The Right Mr. Wrong Read online

  ‘Is that why you do what you do?’ she said, gesturing for him to step forward to the space in front of the mirror. ‘For respect?’

  Black void expanding exponentially in his chest, he frowned. Shoot. He’d been teasing and she’d jumped straight to the serious talk.

  ‘How long is this going to take?’ he said as he crossed to the designated spot.

  She pulled out a small, flexible tape measure and moved closer, pulling his gut a touch tighter. ‘I need to measure you for a shirt, jacket and pants,’ she said.

  Which was really no answer at all.

  And suddenly she was right in front of him, bringing her scent and the clear skin of her beautiful face close to his. He leaned back and looked down at her dubiously, his frown drawing his brows down until they tried to merge with his eyes.

  ‘Relax,’ she said. But something in her tone made the suggestion impossible. ‘This isn’t going to hurt.’

  He elected to ignore the twitch of her luscious lips and hoped to hell she was talking about being measured for the tux. Innocent expression clashing with the knowing light in her eyes, she looped the tape measure—and consequently, her arms—around his neck, setting his heart tapping harder in his chest.

  The slight smile on her face made him nervous. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you,’ she said as she took the measurement, her fingers whispering against him just beneath his Adam’s apple.

  The simple brush of skin on skin sent a line of goose bumps streaking up his back. And how was that possible when she was only touching his stupid neck?

  ‘Are you going to your mother’s dinner party in two weeks?’ she went on.

  Fortunately it was a question he could answer without thought, because thinking was difficult with her so close. ‘No.’

  The word came out a little harsher than he’d intended, but the feel of her fingers was sending an uncomfortable thrum through his body. And how long did it take to get an accurate measurement? She wasn’t launching a nuclear warhead here. An approximation would do just fine, thank you.

  ‘Why not?’ she said as she dropped her hands and stepped over to the laptop on the coffee table.

  Free of her disturbing touch, Parker let out a breath of relief.

  ‘Because I don’t have anything to say to my mother,’ he said. ‘And if I show up I’ll have to talk to her.’

  A small frown tugged on her lips as she entered the measurement into her laptop. ‘When was the last time you two had a conversation?’

  The gaping pit around his heart seemed to expand twofold, and Parker worked hard at not frowning at the memory.

  ‘She called my cell the day my father died,’ he said, remembering the feeling of desolation, the sense of aloneness. ‘I didn’t answer.’

  She turned and stepped closer again, studying him silently for a moment. The assessing gaze, the topic of conversation and her skin that looked as if it tasted of cream made the situation wholly uncomfortable.

  Without a word, she came to his side, and he stared at her profile in the mirror.

  ‘You should talk to her,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say.’

  The pause was slight, but he sensed she had more to share. The words that followed were not what he’d been expecting.

  ‘I’m going to measure your sleeve length,’ she said.

  With more care than he thought necessary, she measured from the spine at his neck, to his shoulder, and then drew the tape down his arm to his wrist. His T-shirt offered no protection from the slow slide of her fingers against his bare arm, and he ignored the shimmer of awareness that came with the move.

  The simple brush of skin on skin on his arm shouldn’t be so arousing, either.

  ‘You did that on purpose,’ he said.

  Despite the unfortunate husky tone of his voice, she said, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She sent him a sedate look. ‘Now raise your arms.’

  He shifted on his feet, uneasy. ‘Why?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘No need to be so suspicious,’ she said. ‘I just need to measure your chest.’

  Something in the set of her posture and the light in her eyes told him he needed to proceed with caution. To be on guard—and not because of the conversation about his family. The mood was electric. Heck, the air was so heavily charged he was surprised they both didn’t glow. And he could see in her eyes that she knew it, too.

  ‘Arms,’ she said as she stepped in front of him again.

  Sending a sharp look down at her too-close-for-comfort face, Parker complied, raising his hands as if surrendering. Which he wasn’t, blast it all.

  Amber looped her arms around his back, and, for a moment, the world came to a grinding halt....

  He couldn’t think.

  Couldn’t breathe.

  If he leaned just a fraction of an inch closer, he would be able to feel the soft press of her breasts against the harder planes of his chest. She was looking up at him with those wide, beautiful eyes, and her face almost glowed. As though she was lit from within. A light that just might be able to absorb the blackness that churned inside.

  Where had that thought come from?

  Looking dazed, Amber stared up at him with her arms around his torso, and the words that came from her mouth were a surprise. ‘You took off your jacket.’

  Her tone of voice suggested there was more to that less-than-brilliant bit of observation.

  Parker’s brows pulled together, the rest of him frozen. ‘You told me to.’

  She looked as stunned as he felt.

  ‘No. Not that...’ she said, her voice stumbling a bit. ‘I mean—you still smell like leather.’

  A succession of emotions filed across her face, moving on from the shock and eventually ending with something that looked like anticipation. And...damn, there was no ignoring the vibe any longer because—

  ‘But maybe that’s just your signature scent,’ she mused.

  —it was written all over her face.

  ‘Are you trying to seduce me, Amber?’ he asked softly.

  Sometimes it was best just to punch the elephant in the room in the face.

  She blinked, as if clearing her vision, and then brought her hands back around to finish measuring his chest. ‘Yes.’

  Apparently she had no qualms about laying her cards on the table.

  Tipping his head, he paused, feeling stronger now that they’d addressed the issue. He could handle this. He’d handled her starstruck adoration as a kid and he could handle her desire now. Feeling better, he watched her cross to enter the latest numbers and then return to stand in front of him again.

  Everything would be fine, if he just didn’t look at her face, or her mouth, or her chest....

  Bracing himself, he held his breath as she measured around his waist, her fingers skimming just below the level of his belly button, too close to more...sensitive parts of his body. And his abdominal muscles clenched as if punched, despite the T-shirt between them.

  ‘You should at least come to your mother’s party to see Reese,’ she said as she bit the corner of her mouth in concentration.

  Leaving Parker with the intense need to lick the damp spot from her lip. His head was spinning, and his shaft was thickening, and coherent thought took him a moment.

  ‘Why?’ he croaked.

  See, he could form words. Sort of.

  ‘Because she’s family,’ she said. ‘And we all need family.’

  Despite his discomfort, he let out a small huff of laughter. She thought she was going to seduce him and get him to talk to his family? Man, she really was a believer.

  And then she knelt before him, and... Oh, God.

  In the mirror, the vision of her on her knees in front of him sent his pulse bounding out a rhythm that threatened to burst from his body. She was joy and hope and light and the intense need to bury himself inside her, to take a little of that faith for himself, to sink into her belief was almost his undoing.
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  His mouth worked, struggling to function. ‘Nothing about this scenario is going to work on me, Ace,’ he said hoarsely, proud he could still form words.

  ‘I’m just taking your measurements.’

  A sarcastic scoff escaped his throat.

  And then she measured from his waist to his heel, and Parker blew out a breath, relieved the act was fairly tolerable. Even being so stupid as to congratulate himself on his self-control as she entered the measurement into her computer.

  ‘Next, your inseam.’ She returned to kneel in front of him, and he braced himself. ‘Spread your legs a bit.’

  Sweat broke out along his lip at the erotic image her words produced. Parker was busy battling the flash of heat when Amber, with one end of the measuring tape, reached up between his thighs. His chest seized around his heart, preventing it from doing its job. And when her fingers brushed just to the left of his groin, pleasure pooled in his stomach.

  Paralyzed, he used his gaze in a vain attempt to burn reason into her, his voice almost a growl. ‘Does measuring my inseam include touching my junk?’

  Eyes wide, she looked up at him. But beneath it all, he was sure he detected a note of false innocence. And a hint of nerves.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said as she drew the other end of the tape down to his heel.

  With a wary scowl, he said, ‘You don’t look sorry.’

  She swallowed and cleared her throat. ‘Assume your normal posture, please.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘You look like you’re slumped over,’ she said with a doubtful look.

  That was because he was so hard now his body was protectively hunching around the sensitive area.

  ‘And now I need to get the last measurement,’ she said.

  He should have known he was in trouble by the fine tremor in her voice. By the way she nervously licked her lips. But he was too mesmerized by the slide of pink tongue across her mouth to register what she was doing.

  One hand holding the tape at his waist in back, she reached between his legs and pulled the measuring tape down his backside.

  ‘You’re measuring my ass?’ he rasped.

  ‘I need your crotch length,’ she said.

  Crotch length?

  There was a joke in there somewhere, but, for the life of him, he couldn’t formulate the wisecrack. Especially when her hand slowly pulled the tape up between his thighs.

  And Parker knew he was well and truly screwed.

  Breathing a distant memory, a tiny speck in his review mirror, he couldn’t move as her fingers flirted with touching his erection. She skirted too close for comfort as she continued up his crotch toward the front of his waist. Wringing his insides. Dragging his nerves through razor wire. And, just when it was almost over, she lightly brushed the tip of his shaft.

  Desire burst like a supernova, jump-starting his flagging brain.

  ‘Jesus, Amber,’ he ground out, grabbing her wrist. Body throbbing, he narrowed his gaze. ‘Is this measurement even necessary?’

  She gazed up at him, looking stunned. ‘You can never have too much information,’ she murmured.

  ‘Hell yeah, you can.’ His grip grew firmer around her wrist.

  Case in point: her skin was warm, her pulse bounded beneath his fingers and her expression was nothing but honest—pure, unadulterated want innocently on display. Along with something else. He should have pushed her wrist as far from him as possible, but he was transfixed by the light in her eyes. As if he deserved much more than just sex.

  And the crushing need to capture a little of that hope for himself, to briefly fill the black hole that had been surrounding his heart for years, was too much.

  ‘You win,’ he muttered, and he hauled her up by her wrist, gaze intent on her mouth.

  * * *

  Amber didn’t utter a word of protest as Parker pulled her body flush with his. Her wrist still clutched in his fingers, he tucked their arms behind his back until she was giving him a partial hug. But it wasn’t a real embrace, because his other hand hung loosely at his side.

  Green eyes holding hers, his voice gruff, he said, ‘You know this is all you get, right?’

  They were pressed together from chest to groin, and she was momentarily rendered speechless by his too-blunt words and the feel of his erection. The longing to be wrapped in his arms for real was intense. But he maintained his current posture, patiently waiting for a response, and he wasn’t going to continue until he was sure he’d made his point.

  She’d never chased a man before, had never actively pursued what she wanted. And she wanted this.

  With an intensity that was too great to be denied.

  ‘I understand,’ she said.

  The tension radiating from him since she’d taken his measurement suddenly dissipated, and he lifted his free hand to her face, lowering his mouth to hers.

  God, it wasn’t fair.

  He was strong and sure and oozed a confident sensuality as his lips slid over hers, as if trying to absorb something more than a simple kiss. Meanwhile she was quaking, literally quaking at the knees. She was a grown woman with plenty of experience under her belt. She’d been around several blocks along the way but, for some reason, this time the trip felt different.

  Amber supposed it was only natural, as she’d waited for this moment since she was a preteen. Before she really even knew what, exactly, her body longed for....

  She remembered the heat from innocent brushes of skin on skin as she’d accepted the crab he’d gently placed in her hand. She remembered her heart pounding from dreams too vague to recall, only that they’d contained Parker.

  And she remembered the mesmerizing mouth that had always triggered an anxious flutter in her stomach. Parker’s lips were now slicking across hers, wet and warm and working her mouth so deliciously she had to clutch his T-shirt, dizzy.

  With a small movement, his tongue tested her bottom lip, and a needy catch escaped her throat as she opened her mouth wide. He finally relented and gave her what she wanted, his tongue against hers. The taste, the soft strokes that went on and on, sent her senses soaring. Twisting his T-shirt tighter, she fought to have her other arm freed from his grip.

  ‘Slow down, Ace,’ he murmured against her mouth.

  Pleasure flared higher. As a kid, the nickname had always made her feel special in Parker’s eyes. She hadn’t been, she knew. But it was the way he said it, as if she were the only one on the planet that was important. And right now he was licking, kissing and nipping his way down her neck, leaving her feeling the same way.

  Against the bounding pulse at her neck, he said, ‘There’s no hurry.’

  Oh, but holy heaven, there was.

  Summers of innocent longing. Years of fantasies.

  The mother lode of mental foreplay.

  ‘Please,’ she said, pulling against the fingers wrapped around her wrist.

  He released her.

  Instantly her fingers gripped the edge of his T-shirt and shoved, unceremoniously, up his torso. When he didn’t lift his arms fast enough, she abandoned her plan to take it off and dropped her mouth to his naked chest. He tasted of salt and smelled of leather, as if the essence of his jacket had fused with his skin. She pressed openmouthed kisses across his muscles, with the ridiculous thought that she could inhale this moment and keep it forever. Parker mumbled something she couldn’t understand, something about taking their time, but Amber ignored him. She nosed a nipple and then licked the nub until it was raised enough to scrape her teeth across.

  He sucked in a breath. ‘Okay, okay.’

  All thought came to a halt when his hands dropped to the T-shirt bunched just beneath his arms. Stunned, she watched the shifting of pectorals and bone and sinew as he shrugged out of the garment and tossed it aside. The strength in his shoulders, the easy play of muscle a beautiful, breathtaking sight.

  Without hesitation, she spread her hands across the gorgeous display and pushed him back against the mirrored wall.

  ‘J
esus, Amber,’ he hissed.

  Ignoring him, she stared at the light dusting of hair on his flat abdomen as she fumbled with his belt and the fastening of his jeans, finally pushing everything to the floor. The vision of lean hips, well-muscled thighs and a full erection left her breathless. Unable to continue.

  And Parker finally seemed to grasp the urgency of their situation.

  Hands and lips and teeth seemingly everywhere at once, he divested her of her clothing efficiently. When gone, she pressed her body to his, refusing to blush at the groan that ripped from her chest at the glorious feeling of, finally, skin on skin.

  Parker swept a hand up her back and buried his fingers in her hair, his kiss raw. Mouth realigning this way and that as if to consume her from every angle. She lost track of time until the fingers in his other hand found their way between her thighs.

  The visceral hit to her system left her pulling back from the kiss, gasping for air.

  Lips parted, he breathed through his mouth—open hunger on his face as the fingers between her legs turned bolder. Until the desire grew so great tears pricked the backs of her lids.

  Closing her eyes, she whispered, ‘Parker.’

  Which came out more like a strangled sound of pleasure than an actual word.

  As if inspired, Parker’s lips crashed back to hers. He pressed his hard shaft against the skin of her belly, as if seeking friction. The overpowering sensations were full of need. And want. And need. Amber could barely coordinate herself to return his kiss properly. Parker didn’t seem to care, rocking his hips and nipping and pulling at her mouth for all it was worth. When he withdrew his hands, her body clenched in disappointment. Until he bent to pull a condom from the wallet in his jeans, sheathing himself.

  Amber’s mouth lost all moisture as she watched, transfixed, half terrified this was a dream and she’d wake up too soon.

  Bracing his back against the mirror, Parker reached for Amber and lifted her up. Surprised, limbs clumsy, she didn’t follow the logic until he spoke.

  ‘Wrap your legs around my waist,’ he said.

  Oh, God, yes.