Playing for Kinley (Cruz Brothers Book 1) (18 page)

Parker

I watched her take in my home, one appreciative glance at a time, and tried to picture what it looked like through her eyes. I was trying to update a lot of the house’s features while at the same time restoring the historical aspect to its architecture.

The realization that I wanted Kinley to like it, be impressed by it—to be as proud of me as I was of myself for it—hit me with a powerful force.

Her approval mattered way more than I wanted it to.

“This is beautiful, Parker,” she said softly as she took in my living room. “Wow. Look at these hardwood floors. These have to be the original.”

My heart swelled with pride. “They are. Same with the chimney,” I said, nodding to the brick stack. “I had to do a little work on it, but most of that brick is the original.”

She smiled and shook her head slowly. “That’s amazing. You’ve done a wonderful job.”

Now, I felt my face heat, suddenly feeling sheepish at her praise. “Thanks. I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

But she didn’t follow me when I moved toward the kitchen. I looked back and saw her staring at the photo I had hanging over the couch.
Her photo
. The one I bought at her New Year’s Eve show.

She turned to meet my eyes and I could have sworn I saw moisture gathered in hers before she quickly looked back at the framed print. “It looks good in here. Fitting for the room.”

I found myself smiling and agreeing. “I thought so. I’m not usually into wall art, but that one just spoke to me for some reason.” I meant it as a joke, but there was an unmistakable note of emotion underlying those words. The nature of that print spoke volumes to both of us.

She chuckled lightly and thankfully kept the conversation on neutral ground, ignoring my heady comment. “Well, I’m glad you listened to it, then.”

I took her through the kitchen and walked her around upstairs. The tension in the air seemed to get a bit thicker when I showed her my bedroom. I had to admit, I took particular care with the room when I was cleaning up earlier, making sure there were no dirty underwear lying around or any other unsightly things a woman would find disgusting in a bachelor’s home.

Just in case she happened to make an appearance in that room later in the evening. Not that I was counting on it. Sure, I wanted it but only if she did and I damn sure wasn’t going to push her for it. Whatever happened, I wanted it to happen naturally, comfortably. We didn’t have to rush anything.

Although having her in my bed tonight would most definitely kick ass.

“Here’s your room,” I announced as I opened the door.

The guest room wasn’t much. Just a double bed with a plain forest green comforter on it, an old dresser and matching nightstand, and a small armchair in the corner. The third bedroom was nearly identical to this one, but I didn’t use it very much. The only reason I even cared to have extra bedrooms was because I wanted Mason and Dawson, Mickie, and the kids to have places to sleep whenever they came to visit.

I wondered if Kinley realized that I put her in the one that was closest to my room. Because if she did, she wasn’t saying anything.

She walked into the room and sat her suitcase on the bed. “I really appreciate this. It’s a nice change of scenery.” She looked back at me with a sweet smile, those full lips of hers curving up temptingly. “Every hotel room starts to look exactly the same after a while.”

I nodded, unable to take my eyes off her face, especially those lips. “I know what you mean. Between hotels, planes, and buses, it’s a huge relief every time I’m able to stay in my own home.”

Silence stretched between us for a few seconds, the atmosphere changing as we stared at each other. I cleared my throat, hoping to avoid any awkwardness between us this weekend. “So, what time do we need to leave tonight?”

She looked down at her watch. “The wedding is at seven, so we probably need to leave here no later than six-thirty. I guess that gives us about an hour and a half.” She raised her head again, looking at me. “Thanks again for agreeing to go with me. With you there, I’m not dreading going as much.”

It surprised me that she admitted that. It was the best thing she’d said to me in a long time. My heart surged with the hope that she might actually enjoy my company. A definite step in the right direction.

What I didn’t like was when her forehead creased in worry, like she couldn’t believe she’d said it. I wouldn’t let her regret it, though.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, Kinley. I want to go with you.”

Her face softened and she looked relieved that I hadn’t needled the subject. I smiled and began to back out of the room. “I’ll let you get ready. Towels are under the bathroom sink. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me.”

She didn’t respond but when I looked back at her, she was smiling to herself. I got out of there before I could act on my instincts to tackle her to the bed and finally have her the way I’d wanted to all these years.

She’d only been in my house a total of twenty minutes and already I wanted to get her naked.

I’d lasted longer than I thought I would.

##

My body demanded that I exert some of the pent-up energy I had thanks to Kinley’s arrival. And since I couldn’t exert it the way I wanted—with Kinley’s body underneath mine—I decided to build a shelf for my hall closet and start on replacing those doorknobs.

After an hour, I figured it was time to go take a shower and get ready to be Kinley’s date.

Date.

Date for Valentine’s Day, not that I took much notice to the holiday, but it’s not like I wasn’t aware that it was today. Which was why I’d snuck out of the house briefly while she was in the shower, ran to the florist shop down the street, and bought her a bouquet of red roses. I didn’t care if the gesture seemed too intimate. It was Valentine’s Day and every woman needed flowers today. Even if they came from a mere “friend.”

When she’d asked me to be her date tonight, I thought I’d hallucinated it at first. Then, when it registered that she had not only said it, but was also serious about it, I’d felt like I was on top of the world. I’d probably sounded pathetically eager to her when I’d agreed to it, but I didn’t care. She was lucky I hadn’t screamed it at her and told her I’d do any damn thing she wanted of me.

I climbed the stairs and passed her bedroom on the way to mine. I heard some music coming from inside—Fallout Boy?—along with her out-of-tune singing. I smiled and kept walking, loving so much that she was in my home.

Then, I passed by the bathroom and stopped dead in my tracks.
Ah, hell.
It was her scent. The smell that was so distinctly Kinley that my dick immediately stood at attention when I got a whiff of it. I didn’t even know what it was—flowers and sweetness that reminded me of summertime—but I’d grown up smelling that fragrance wafting out of the bathroom at Clay’s house. Even before I realized I had feelings for Kinley, I loved that smell.

Now, it was in
my
house.

And I never wanted it to leave.

Get ahold of yourself, man.

I was so lost for this woman, it was ridiculous. Thank God I’d had an in-suite bathroom built on to my bedroom shortly after I bought the place because there was no way I’d have been able to handle taking a shower in the same one Kinley had just used. I was already going to be furiously jacking off in my own shower as it was.

Just like when I was a teenager, lusting like crazy after her.

Funny how some things in life come full circle.

Ten minutes later, I was putting on my suit and tie and trying not to think about Kinley being naked in the next room. I’d known it was going to be like this when I invited her to stay with me and yet I’d still said it.
I must be a masochist.

Her voice suddenly broke me out of my testosterone-infused fantasies. “Hey…Parker?”

It was coming from down the hall, so I opened my door and stepped out. She was peaking her head through the crack in her bedroom door, her shiny dark curtain of hair framing her face, her lips pursed in question.

“What’s up?”

“Could you…um…zip me up?” Her voice was small and meek, her anxiety clear.

I won’t lie, all the blood in my head instantly rushed to my dick at her words. I was a guy and dealing with any part of Kinley’s clothes—zipping or unzipping them—was going to catch my attention in a big way.

“Sure.”

She stepped back into the room and opened the door wider with my entrance. My eyes flicked over the clothes strewn out on the bed, her three pairs of heels on the floor, and the makeup or whatever she had scattered across the dresser. Kinley’s feminine presence was taking over my house and I couldn’t have been more pleased.

But then my eyes caught on her back and all thoughts in my head ceased to exist.

Her tanned, naked back was facing me, the deep red lace material of her dress split down the center, waiting to be zipped. My fingers itched to pull the zipper down further, though. I wanted to see more of that back, wanted know what else she had on underneath, or if she didn’t have anything on at all. And yes, I was painfully aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Every part of her was breathtaking.

Her dress was hugging her ass, my hands longing to hold it and pull it up against me. Her legs were on display in her sexy as fuck heels. Her hair reached halfway down her back, making me want to grab onto it as I bent her over that bed, shove her dress up, and show her what it was like to be taken by me. Show her the things I could do to that body.

“Parker?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me.

I shook my head. Right.
Zip her up and stop staring.

“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping forward and gently taking ahold of the small zipper.

Her scent surrounded me as I held the material together, slowly closing it and covering her beautiful, flawless skin. I could feel the air changing, the sexual tension thickening as we both became more aware of our bodies’ reaction to the other. I felt goosebumps pop up over her skin and her breathing changed. My fingertips were burning with the heat radiating between us, my touch scorching her skin just as assuredly as hers was doing to mine.

I was disappointed when I had her zipped all the way up too quickly. I started to step back when she spoke. “Wait.” Her voice was low and husky and at that moment, I had never wanted another woman more in my life. Didn’t even know this kind of want was possible. “The top clasp, too,” she whispered.

She gathered her hair together and pulled it over her shoulder, exposing her neck and the top of her dress to me. The dress had a big hole in the back, leaving most of her upper back bare, and was held together at the very top by three delicate little hooks.

My fingers ghosted across the skin of her neck, subtly caressing her hairline and tracing the curve of her shoulder. I knew she could feel what I was doing, but neither of us were about to stop it. We both wanted it more than we could stand. I knew that much.

I slowly grasped the hooks and pulled the material together, doing my best to focus on fastening the damn things instead of how her hair smelled. My mouth was right at her ear, my breath tickling her skin, as I went to the next hook. The room was silent, nothing but the sound of our mingled breaths filling the void. Every second that passed was another test of our self-control, our will to not screw things up again between us before they had a chance to be fixed.

I hadn’t exercised this kind of strength since I was a college kid, forcing myself to suppress my need for my best friend’s high schooler sister. I’d only ever been infatuated with one girl. Only ever had to hold myself back from one girl because I cared about her too much to hurt her.

All of that self-righteousness was now rearing its ugly head.

And I don’t mean the head on top of my shoulders.

“All set,” I breathed when all three hooks were fastened. I couldn’t step away from her, though. Couldn’t force my feet to move.

“Thanks,” she breathed.

I smirked into her hair, closing my eyes tightly as the smell permeated my senses. “What did I say about thanking me?”

She blew out a breath. “To stop?”

I just hummed in agreement, wanting to take pleasure in this moment for just a few more seconds before I had to pull away.

Her voice was so soft, I almost didn’t hear what she said next. “What if I don’t want to stop?”

Fuck.

I was one deep breath away from insisting that we never stop and stripping her of all her clothes and her defenses right here.

Dammit to hell, but we couldn’t. Not yet.

Something inside told me that her emotions were still too raw when it came to me. I just had to give it a little more time, continue to wear her down. Even when she was practically instigating something like this, I had to stay strong. Things would go smoother in the long run if I did.

Ever since I left her all those years ago, I felt like I was constantly being punished with the memory of her, the “what ifs.” Punished for listening to my head instead of my heart. Stepping away from her in that bedroom was further penance for my misguided decisions when I was a naïve, twenty-two-year-old kid.