Nights With Parker (10 page)

“Wait a minute. Is this more than hypothetical? Did you actually meet someone?”

“I don’t know. Kind of,” I say on an exhale. I already gave her too much information, so what’s a little more now? “I’m pretty sure I fucked it up, though.”

“So fix it, Oliver.”

I smile because she ignores my colorful language and moves straight to making her point.

“I don’t know if this is fixable.”

“What did you do?” she questions inquisitively. She must know me better than I thought because she sounds almost afraid to hear.

“You don’t want to know,” I tell her sheepishly, likely confirming her suspicions.

“Oliver.” She says my name as if I’m a child, and my behavior has outraged her. I can’t say that I blame her because what’s gone down with Riley is far from appropriate. “You have to find a way to fix whatever it is you’ve done.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then, at the very least, tell her you’re sorry. At the very least, tell her that you made a mistake, and you regret it.”

“I’m not sure I regret it. She may not have looked twice at me otherwise.” I answer honestly, but the words make me feel like an asshole. I should regret having sex with Riley, but for purely selfish reasons, I don’t.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she’s beyond anything I’d ever deserve.”

“That’s not true,” she says defensively, as if by criticizing myself I’m attacking her personally.

“It is. I had a real opportunity to help her, and I took that information and used it for my own personal gain.”

“Relationships aren’t business negotiations, Oliver,” she says with a sigh, still trying to get through to me, still trying to teach me lessons like she did when I was a child. “They’re not about who comes out on top in the end. You need to learn how to distinguish between the two.”

“Have you met my role model?”

“Yes, but you despise your father for the way he is, and the way that he does business, so why are you trying so hard to be just like him?”

I don’t know how to handle the impact of those words. They hurt. They actually fucking hurt. And as much as I don’t want to hear them, they’re one-hundred percent accurate. I’m an asshole just like my old man. Exactly like him.

“Oliver?” my mom calls, pulling me out of a moment of intense clarity.

“I’m here,” I respond quietly.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

I snicker. “I suppose the truth hurts.”

“You can turn things around.”

“I’ll try, Mom.”

“That’s all you can do,” she says, seemingly satisfied by my non-committal response. “I’ll check in with you in a few days.”

“All right but don’t forget about coming down here. I’d really like to see you.”

“I won’t forget.”

We end the call, and afterward, I feel even worse than I did before, if that’s even possible. My initial thought of calling Riley flies right out the window. Instead, I impulsively decide to pay her a visit. I pick up my desk phone and inform my secretary to clear my calendar, doubting that she can even handle that much. I make a mental note to call the temp agency and have them send me someone else as soon as possible.

***

I pull up to the house and park behind a car that’s obviously seen better days. It has more rust on it than it does paint, and I’d be stunned if it actually started. I know that Riley’s mom is working at the hotel today, so I’m fairly certain that it’s her vehicle and that she’s home alone. I should probably leave her alone; that would be the right thing to do for sure. Unfortunately, whenever Riley is involved, I can’t seem to manage to do anything right. Keeping with that pattern, I get out of my car and take in the tree-lined street and the quaint house before me. Wasting no time, I ring the bell as soon as I reach the door. It only takes her a moment to answer, and when she does, I’m hit by how beautiful she looks. It’s no different than she looks any other day, but the memory of it would never be enough. It feels like it’s been a lot longer than two days, and even though she looks completely pissed off at the sight of me, I don’t regret for one minute showing up like this. For the first time since the moment she walked out of my hotel room, I feel a sense of calm, despite the storm that’s raging within her pretty eyes. Her stance is defensive, arms crossed over her chest, feet apart, completely guarded. I want to change it; I want to break through her wall.

“What are you doing here?” she bites out, her eyes focused on something over my shoulder.

“I’d like to talk to you.”

“How’d you know where to find me?”

“I pulled your mother’s employee file.”

“Great. Now, you’re using protected information to get to me. You obviously have no boundaries.”

“Riley, may I come in, please?”

Her eyes land on me, and I watch as she takes me in, looking me up and down with indecision. With an exaggerated sigh, she pushes the door open and allows me to walk through. Standing in the middle of a smallish living room, I quickly take in my surroundings before my eyes land on her again.

“How are you?”

Her lips purse into a thin line, and she shrugs her shoulders dismissively. The swell of her breasts looks inviting in the tight pink tank top that shows just a hint of skin. Her legs look elongated by the cotton shorts that sit rolled up low on her hips. It’s a struggle to keep my mind off stripping her out of all of that and focusing on other things.

“I’m fine. Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m here for you. I don’t like the way we left things off.”

“We left things off fine. We agreed that we would each hold up our ends of the bargain, so what’s left to say? Are you here to set up our next meeting?”

“You call what happened fine? Because to me, that was the farthest thing from fine. I took your virginity—”

“Don’t. Please don’t go there. I can’t talk about this with you, and I don’t want to. I just want to move on.”

“I understand that, but I need to make sure that you’re okay and at the same time apologize for my part in hurting you. I never meant to make you feel cheap.”

“How did you think I would feel?”

“I guess I didn’t think at all,” I tell her honestly because the truth is I didn’t think about her, not at all. Not one time in this scenario did I think about what I was doing to this girl. “I wanted—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Oliver,” she interrupts. “It doesn’t matter what you wanted, or what I wanted. What’s done is done. All we can do now is move on.”

“How so?”

“I’m off tonight if you want to see me again. I can be ready by seven.”

“Riley, It’s not …”

“Fine. Six, I’ll be ready by six. I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“You don’t have to do this. Everything is still fresh.”

“We made a deal. So far you’ve stayed true to your word, so I intend to stay true to mine.”

“Okay but—”

“I’m tired, Oliver. I didn’t sleep all that well. Would you mind leaving so I can try to take a nap? I promise I’ll be ready and at the hotel by six.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, but she’s already shut me out. Nothing I say will penetrate her at this point, so I’m not sure it’s even worth trying.

“Fine. I’ll see you tonight.” I agree because I know she needs the space, and I’ve decided that I need to give her that. I’ll try to talk to her again tonight. I stop inches away from her on my way to the door, stare down at her for a brief moment, and press a kiss to her forehead. She doesn’t flinch, but she doesn’t react at all, not even to press herself closer to me. I wanted her reaction … good or bad, I wanted it. Nevertheless, I step away from her and see my own way out of her house, hopeful that things will go better tonight.

RILEY

Nothing is worse than feeling something for someone and not being sure about how they feel about you. Nothing is worse than giving a damn about a person who quite possibly doesn’t give a damn about you, or anyone else for that matter. I’ve known Oliver for no time at all, yet I can’t stop myself from caring about him. I can’t stop my emotions from being tangled up in the web of bullshit he’s created around us. Oliver and I are messy, and I can’t seem to get my head and my heart to agree on how they feel about him. There’s no way to explain how when he showed up at my front door earlier today, part of me was angry that he was there, but an equal amount was excited. My heart fluttered, actually fluttered at the sight of him.

I want so badly to stay mad at him, but how can I be mad when I’m the one who didn’t tell him the truth from the beginning? He made an asshole decision to bribe me to sleep with him—there’s no denying that. But maybe if I had told him that I was a virgin, he would have done the right thing. I should have told him, but I was just too scared he wouldn’t give my mother her job back. I was too scared we’d end up on the street, so I went along with his idea. I gave myself over to him, even though I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. So I guess, in retrospect, there’s blame to share. Now, what’s done is done, and the only thing left to do is to move on and move forward. I’ve already lost my virginity to the man, so what’s the point of ending things now? What good would that do? I’ve already gone this far to keep my end of the deal, so I may as well go all the way. Besides, it’s not as if it’s a forever type of thing. He’ll be going back to New York soon enough. I’ll be nothing but a distant memory, and he’ll never realize he’s taken a permanent piece of me.

Bringing my car to a halt in front of Oliver’s hotel, I wait for the valet to give me a ticket before getting out and making my way inside. I’m grateful he chose to stay at a different hotel because I would hate to run into my mother while she was at work and have to explain why I’m dressed for an evening out but headed to a guest room. Definitely not the kind of conversation I’d like to have with her.

My heart rate spikes the minute I step foot onto the elevator. The doors close, and I watch the numbers light up as it ascends, taking me closer and closer to another encounter with Oliver. The thing is … the thing I haven’t let myself think about is the fact that what we did, how he was with me … it felt good. The way he worked my body was beyond what I could have ever imagined, and the end result made the pain I felt at the beginning worth it. That’s what makes this so difficult—the fact that my brain doesn’t want to be anywhere near Oliver Parker, but my body is a traitorous whore. I take a deep breath the moment the doors open and quickly walk to his door and knock. No use in prolonging the inevitable; I’m here now, so I stand up straight and hold my head high. He doesn’t need to see how unsure I really am about him and about this.

“Riley.” He says my name as the door opens up. His eyes are warm and inviting, his stance is relaxed, which is a complete contrast from the way he normally is. Gone is his normal suit and tie, replaced by a pair of dark blue jeans and a deep green t-shirt that look insanely good on him. My body reacts instantly to the image before me. He’s like a magnet pulling me in, and it’s a constant battle to keep my wits around him.

I catch a whiff of his cologne as I walk past him. It makes me think of how it felt to have him over me, kissing my neck while he fucked me, and I want to bury my face in the crook of his neck and wrap myself up in him.

Where the hell is that coming from, Riley?

The door shuts behind me, and I can feel him at my back. He’s so close, but he doesn’t touch me right away. I wait patiently for him to do or say something, and my eyes automatically close when his fingers glide along my hair. Pushing it to the side, he lets it fall over my shoulders.

“You look beautiful.” His breath at the nape of my neck is warm. It feels so good; I hate that it feels this exquisite.

“Thank you.” I exhale, and with that, his arm slides around my waist pulling me to him with a gentle tug. Instinctively, my head falls back, resting on his shoulder, and I swear I don’t recognize myself. I don’t know who I am when he’s around. His presence is consuming; it’s intoxicating, and with no effort at all, he makes me forget what’s happening outside these four walls.

“I like this on you.” He gives the material of the pale blue strapless dress a tug. “I like that you wore it for me.”

He runs his nose along the base of my exposed neck as his hand roams. I let out a pleasured sigh, unable to stop myself from enjoying the feel of him.

God, I have no control when I’m around him.

Up until Oliver, the most I’d ever done was kiss a guy or two, so to go from that level of inexperience to standing here damn near willing him to have his way with me is shocking, to say the least.

His hand slips inside my panties,
and he practically growls in my ear when he glides his finger back and forth, feeling my wetness.

“Oliver.” I whimper because it feels beyond incredible when his finger lands on my clit. My hand grips at his arm, trying to get him to stop because I don’t think I can just stand here like this while he touches me. I need to get him to move this over to the bed, but he just uses his free hand to hold me still.

“Don’t move, Riley,” he commands, and I shudder at the sound of his words. His grip on me gets a little tighter as his finger glides gently in and out of my pussy. There’s nothing for me to do but stand there and let myself feel every bit of what he’s doing to me. I cry out when he inserts a second finger crooking them both and making a come-hither motion inside me.