Chapter Fourteen
Parker
My private engagement party feels more like a public obligation than anything else. While my mother fusses over our relatives who flew in to meet the bride and groom, my father drinks in the corner, pouting like a petulant toddler who was denied his favorite toy. I roll my eyes at my parents, looking for a break in the small crowd that will lead to an exit. As soon as a pathway opens up, I take it.
But not before Alex slips out of the room.
Following her is instinctual at this point. Her existence fascinates me as much as it pisses me off, inspiring the kind of reaction that I might have to an obsession. Am I infatuated that much with a fleshlight? It’s possible. But I don’t think I can admit that to myself just yet.
She’s an enigma, that’s for sure, and she interests me in ways that no other girl has.
She also annoys me to no fucking end.
Once I catch up with my little rabbit, I drag her into a spare family room that we never use and push her into the nearest seat. I shut the door behind me and flip a switch, illuminating the sparsely furnished space. French windows widen on the opposite wall, heavy drapes guarding the view of the west corner of the property. Soft conversation and music float from where the engagement party continues without us.
“So,” I say while gesturing to her stoic expression and stiff posture. “This is how it’s going to be, huh? You sneaking out on me?”
“I didn’t think I was in prison,” she retorts while smoothing her fingers down her blue velvet dress. “If I knew that was going to happen, I would have just stayed at home.”
A warning growl vibrates my throat. But it doesn’t seem to faze her. It only seems to make her more defiant, fueling the flames of my agitation. “Where were you going?”
“Getting some air. Don’t you ever get sick of your family?”
“Yes.”
She meets my gaze, surprised by my response and showing a level of interest in me I haven’t yet seen in her. Is she playing a game or is that genuine?
She arches one brow. “Really?”
“All the fucking time. Why do you think I’m always with the guys?”
“I guess I didn’t realize…”
“That I have fucking feelings?”
Her throat clenches as she swallows and then she stands up, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t say that.”
“No,” I whisper huskily while advancing toward her. “But you were thinking it.”
“You can’t read my mind.”
I study her curiously while reaching out to trace her jawline, noticing the way her skin twitches wherever my fingers rove. She’s so sensitive to touch, and it’s fucking refreshing compared to chicks like Tabitha who are way too fucking desperate for attention.
Alex is different. She’s far too sweet for this life—yet she can be hard when she needs to be. She’s tough like her father and retains a sense of purity that I can only wish to possess. If not in me, then in her. I have to own her. And I don’t know why.
“Are you sure about that?” I tease gruffly while backing her toward a table near the window. “Because I can tell by your eyes that you want me.”
“You’re lying.” Her statement is confident, but the way her lower lip quivers and her eyelids shutter tell me otherwise. “You’re not psychic.”
I hum in disagreement. “I don’t have to be.”
The table rattles when she backs into it, causing her to squeak. I grab her hips, plant her on the table, and flip up her dress, sweeping my fingers over the front of her panties. Her whimpers make me ravenous, the sound of her trying to hold back making it that much hotter to take her.
“You always act like you want to be in charge,” I whisper while sliding her panties down enough to expose her wet pussy. “But really…” I swipe two fingers over her pussy lips and smile when she bays. “You want to be controlled.”
A tortured mewl floats from her lips, followed by, “You don’t know me…”
“If that helps you sleep at night, fine.”