In Your Eyes (Man of the Month 6)

Ironic that neither her heart nor her sleep schedule were at risk, and at the moment a condom would only be useful for making balloon animals.

She'd ended the text conversation by asking him to feed the cats and the fish. And then, since Parker's mention of Kasey had brought her to the forefront of her mind, she'd texted her LA

bestie, telling her that Megan was currently heading to New Orleans with Parker Manning, and would wonders never cease?

Kasey, of course, would assume that sex was on the menu. And the fact that it wasn't even an appetizer was what finally spurred Megan to her feet and to action.

That, and the fact that she'd just finished her second glass of wine and boldness came easier with alcohol.

"This," she said, as she stood in front of him, "isn't at all what I expected."

"No?"

His expression was innocent, but she thought she saw heat underneath his stoic facade. Heat, and possibly amusement. As if they were in the center of a cosmic joke and she was the one who didn't get the punch line. A possibility that, frankly, only added to her frustration.

"No," she said firmly. "From the moment I stepped into your office, sensual words fell from your lips like honey. I mean, honestly, you could qualify for the dirty talk Hall of Fame. But that's all I get? Talk? Haven't you heard what they say about all talk and no action?"

The corner of his mouth curved up, and heat bloomed in his eyes. "You're saying you thought I'd touch you? That I'd slowly strip you, then tease every inch of you mercilessly with my tongue? That I'd kiss you until you were breathless and wet and ready. That I'd stretch you open with my fingers, then thrust my cock inside you and ride you wild and hard until you begged for mercy? Is that what you thought, Megan?"

Her breath came faster with each word, and her legs went weak. "That's what I'm talking about," she finally said, despite the fact that her mouth had gone dry. Her sex, she noticed, wasn't dry at all. Not anymore. "All talk, no action. Well enough of that."

She saw his eyes go wide and heard his sharp intake of breath as she moved to him, then straddled his lap. Her skirt spread in the process, and she could feel the hard length of him against her sex, separated only by his jeans and her panties.

"I said I wanted you, Megan. And I do." His voice, which had been teasing before, now sounded raw. "Right now, I don't think there's anything I want more than to rip off those damn panties and have you ride me all the way to New Orleans. But we can't. Not yet."

"The hell we can't." She rocked her hips so that his erection stroked her sex and teased her clit, making all the thoughts in her head evaporate, leaving only a wild, violent need. "Please."

"Megan, oh, Christ, Megan." He drew in a sharp breath. "Dammit, Megan."

"Yes," she murmured, grinding against him. She was shameless. Wet. Desperate.

More than that, she was determined, and she reached for his fly. She started to tug down his zipper, but his hands caught hers, stilling them, his touch gentle, but firm. "Later," he whispered, shattering her soul. "Not now. Not like this."

Mortification burned through her, and she scrambled off of him, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She'd opened herself. She'd let herself want. And he'd completely shut her down.

"You bastard," she whispered, her eyes burning. But she was determined not to cry.

"Megan, I'm sorry. You don't understand. I let us both get out of control, but--"

"Shut up," she whispered as the plane started to descend and tears leaked from her eyes. "Just shut up and take me home."

Chapter Seven

Parker kept a tight rein on control even though he wanted to lash out--not at her, but at himself. He'd made a goddamn mess of things, and in the process he'd hurt her. A horrible, ironic outcome considering he'd planned this trip with the specific goal telling her how much he craved her.

"I can't take you home now," he said, working to keep his frustration out of his voice. "It's too late for the jet to take off. But if you still want to leave in the morning, we can be gone as early as eight."

"Good," she said. "Plan on it."

The plane was in the hanger now, and she moved to the open exit door without waiting for him, then started down the stairs. By the time he caught up with her at the hired car, the driver had already opened the back door, and she'd slid into the slick black Lincoln.

When he joined her, she started to slide the rest of the way across the bench seat to open the opposite door and get out. "I think I'll sit up front."

"No," he said, pressing his hand to her thigh to still her. She looked at his hand, then at his face, her eyes cold. "Stay," he ordered, in a voice that allowed no argument.

He saw her swallow, then watched as she fastened her seatbelt, then leaned back, her arms crossed over her chest as if in protection. From him.

Slowly, he took three deep breaths, trying to temper his emotions and calm his mind.