him.
Such soft skin. How would it taste? He absently twined his fingers between hers, marveling at how small her hand seemed in his, wondering what it would be like to have her body beneath him, to bury his hard, swollen need inside her welcoming warmth.
Parker was neither monk nor martyr. He was no Shep, but he enjoyed having women, however briefly. He’d occupied himself with quite a few just before he took on this case, knowing his opportunities might be limited for a while. There was no excuse for suddenly feeling like a starving man.
He gingerly shifted in the seat, in desperate need of his usual crotch adjustment but reluctant to spoil the moment. All else seemed hushed in the world. Beyond the hum of the kitchen’s electric clock, the simmering of steam heat waiting to serve, and the quiet kiss of snow upon the frosted glass door, there was silence. There was only the two of them. “Carly. I’m sorry.”
“What in the world for?”
For complaining about the nightgowns when he’d rather she’d worn nothing at all. For not seizing every opportunity he’d had for three months to touch and taste every inch of her. For not automatically killing every rat bastard who even thought of doing her harm.
“I’m willing to go for the big-bang story. Every conspiracy theory has a germ of truth. But I’m sorry, I can’t believe in this—this dream fantasy your people have concocted. It’s all very nice and inspiring I’m sure. But frankly, folks with unrealistic expectations stumbling around with their heads in the clouds aren’t really helping those who live in the trenches.
“However, I am sorry you’ve had to go through all of this alone. I’m a bullheaded idiot. Not knowing the truth made things easier for me. With no preconceived notions about who your enemies were, I could be on guard against everybody . I didn’t think how it might affect you. Keeping a little distance between us was the only way I could…”
He hesitated and swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure. She was right. He wasn’t very good at this talking thing. “I mean, I needed something to—”
The insidious theme song of Close Encounters abruptly waltzed through the air, and Carly jerked away from him, pressing the blue button that had changed to radical red on the phone. “Dammit,” she muttered. “Knew that would happen as soon as we started having an honest conversation. Just knew it.”
He shrugged, noting the disappointment in her dark eyes. Actually, she was wrong. The summons had probably been a godsend. He was on the verge of making a fool of himself. “Duty will call. No problem. We’ll do it again in another three months or so.”
That prompted another smile. The lie was worth it. “I—I hoped you’d believe me. About everything. But I didn’t really expect it. Thanks for listening, big guy—and at least not laughing in my face.”
Parker ran a frustrated hand over his hair, feeling guilty as hell and fighting the urge to pull her back to him. She rose, heaving a relieved sigh, and casually climbed out of her jeans before him, having surrendered that modesty to necessity long ago.
He watched her retire to the bedroom, wearing the hell out of the little ice-blue gown, his shaft growing harder with every gut-clenching swing of her hips.
For some time, long after the creaking of the mattress and rustling of sheets had ceased, he remained seated and still. Christ. He was an ass. As if news of a possible apocalypse wasn’t enough, he’d nearly forgotten who he was, almost dumped his feelings—needs—on the shoulders of a woman already carrying the weight of the world.
With nothing more constructive to do, and a shitload of sexual frustration, it occurred to him he might consider praying. For the Earth, the future, and for this woman who’d become his whole world in these last frantic, full-of-life days.
Prayer? Nah. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t even remember how.
He’d never been a
Such soft skin. How would it taste? He absently twined his fingers between hers, marveling at how small her hand seemed in his, wondering what it would be like to have her body beneath him, to bury his hard, swollen need inside her welcoming warmth.
Parker was neither monk nor martyr. He was no Shep, but he enjoyed having women, however briefly. He’d occupied himself with quite a few just before he took on this case, knowing his opportunities might be limited for a while. There was no excuse for suddenly feeling like a starving man.
He gingerly shifted in the seat, in desperate need of his usual crotch adjustment but reluctant to spoil the moment. All else seemed hushed in the world. Beyond the hum of the kitchen’s electric clock, the simmering of steam heat waiting to serve, and the quiet kiss of snow upon the frosted glass door, there was silence. There was only the two of them. “Carly. I’m sorry.”
“What in the world for?”
For complaining about the nightgowns when he’d rather she’d worn nothing at all. For not seizing every opportunity he’d had for three months to touch and taste every inch of her. For not automatically killing every rat bastard who even thought of doing her harm.
“I’m willing to go for the big-bang story. Every conspiracy theory has a germ of truth. But I’m sorry, I can’t believe in this—this dream fantasy your people have concocted. It’s all very nice and inspiring I’m sure. But frankly, folks with unrealistic expectations stumbling around with their heads in the clouds aren’t really helping those who live in the trenches.
“However, I am sorry you’ve had to go through all of this alone. I’m a bullheaded idiot. Not knowing the truth made things easier for me. With no preconceived notions about who your enemies were, I could be on guard against everybody . I didn’t think how it might affect you. Keeping a little distance between us was the only way I could…”
He hesitated and swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure. She was right. He wasn’t very good at this talking thing. “I mean, I needed something to—”
The insidious theme song of Close Encounters abruptly waltzed through the air, and Carly jerked away from him, pressing the blue button that had changed to radical red on the phone. “Dammit,” she muttered. “Knew that would happen as soon as we started having an honest conversation. Just knew it.”
He shrugged, noting the disappointment in her dark eyes. Actually, she was wrong. The summons had probably been a godsend. He was on the verge of making a fool of himself. “Duty will call. No problem. We’ll do it again in another three months or so.”
That prompted another smile. The lie was worth it. “I—I hoped you’d believe me. About everything. But I didn’t really expect it. Thanks for listening, big guy—and at least not laughing in my face.”
Parker ran a frustrated hand over his hair, feeling guilty as hell and fighting the urge to pull her back to him. She rose, heaving a relieved sigh, and casually climbed out of her jeans before him, having surrendered that modesty to necessity long ago.
He watched her retire to the bedroom, wearing the hell out of the little ice-blue gown, his shaft growing harder with every gut-clenching swing of her hips.
For some time, long after the creaking of the mattress and rustling of sheets had ceased, he remained seated and still. Christ. He was an ass. As if news of a possible apocalypse wasn’t enough, he’d nearly forgotten who he was, almost dumped his feelings—needs—on the shoulders of a woman already carrying the weight of the world.
With nothing more constructive to do, and a shitload of sexual frustration, it occurred to him he might consider praying. For the Earth, the future, and for this woman who’d become his whole world in these last frantic, full-of-life days.
Prayer? Nah. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t even remember how.
He’d never been a
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