Deeper Than Temptation

CHAPTER 1 | Aiden

CHAPTER 1 | Aiden

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And now she knows I’m jealous, I realize, staring Parker down because I’m furious, but also because I can’t help myself. It seems like when it comes to Parks, all I do is stare. I haven’t been able to look away from her since the moment she became my twins’ nanny. Right now though? I want to argue.

And undress her. Honestly, the reminder just pisses me off even more, but my anger is nothing in comparison to hers, and I can’t really blame her. Minutes ago, my jealous inner fourteen-year-old escaped and I insulted her professionalism. It was a d**k move.

Parker lifts her chin, dark eyes flashing. “You told me you needed me to ‘handle things’ because you didn’t have time. Well, I’m handling them—and how dare you imply I was flirting with that guy!”

It’s not funny, but I force myself to laugh anyway. ‘That guy’ is another kid’s dad. He came by to watch Parker give a riding lesson to the twins because he wants to enroll his own kid in lessons, and after laying eyes on Parker, he wants her too. She has no idea how he was looking at her, how attracted he was.

But I do.

“You really don’t know how he was looking at you, do you?” I ask.

She gapes at me. “Nothing was going on between Brandon and me. If you saw something, you’re inventing it.” She pauses, looking half a second away from tears, and it nearly rips me in half. “No one looks at me like that.”

“I do.” It’s so quick it probably sounds like a line, but it’s the truth—probably the biggest truth we’ve ever shared because I can’t ever take my eyes from her. Call it instant attraction or lust at first sight or whatever, but I’ve wanted Parker since day one. It’s totally out of line. I’m her boss. She’s the twins’ nanny.

And yet we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other.

“In fact,” I continue, “I look at you like that all the time, and you know it.” Her breath quickens, and it pools heat in my gut. “And furthermore, I know you look at me the same way.”

I also know it knocks the breath out of me every time.

Parks nods, and catches herself, eyes narrowing at me in annoyance. “Fine,” she says at last. “I like looking at you. What of it? We have...a thing.”

“We do,” I whisper.

“Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Nope.”

“Because it can’t,” she adds.

“Right.”

“Exactly.” We talk to each other like we’re on the same page, and everything’s fine. But my already small apartment kitchen suddenly feels even smaller. Everything is filled with Parker. She’s doing that absent nod thing, blinking those doe-eyes the way she always does when she wants me, and I can’t stop walking toward her. I can’t stop until we’re toe-to-toe, until she has to look up to meet my gaze. It makes her lick her lips, and I have to hold myself back from touching her.

“See?” I whisper, and she shivers. “You’re doing it again: looking at me like you want me to kiss you.”

“Maybe I do.”

Shouldn’t be possible, but I go even harder. My d**k strains against my jeans, but I stay still. I’m never going to be the asshole who forces himself on a woman—let alone the asshole who forces himself on an employee. If she wants me, she’s going to have to say it.

And without me uttering a word, the realization dawns in her eyes. She licks her lips again.

“So kiss me,” she says, and my mouth goes dry. “Because I’m wondering if it’s worth it.”

A challenge. Christ, I love that. I love how she gives as good as she gets—and she’s about to get everything from me. I bend to her, hands taking her face, fingertips brushing her hairline. For a heartbeat, I hold my lips millimeters from hers, and then I fit myself to her. She feels just as good as I imagined she would. Parker’s all heat, all softness, and it nearly takes me to my knees.

I tease her—hell, tease both of us—by keeping the kiss deliberately light. I want her to want this as much as I do, and she’s almost there. Her hands are all over my chest—exploring me, learning me—and I hiss against the corner her mouth. She doesn’t feel as good as I imagined. She feels better.

And just as she’s about to melt into me, I pull back an inch, feel her ragged breathing. “Worth it?”

“Maybe.”

I laugh, wrapping my hand into her hair and tugging her head back for a harder kiss. She gives into me so sweetly, but it makes me want more. I deepen our kiss, my tongue sweeping her mouth and setting our rhythm. It makes her sag into me, turns her softness even softer and her heat even hotter. She enjoys me taking the lead.

Which is exactly how I like it. The realization jerks me out of the kiss. I pull away, grabbing the hem of her T-shirt.

“This doesn’t count,” she pants, helping me yank it over her head.

Doesn’t count? Briefly, I’m confused, and then I realize she’s talking about last month’s decision to keep our hands off each other. That was some ridiculous bullshite on our parts. That was back when I thought I could keep my hands off her, back when I thought this was just attraction.

Back when I thought I could keep my feelings in check.

I lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist. “Doesn’t count.”

“Means it won’t happen again.”

Even through her jeans, I can feel the heat of her pressing into my d**k, and my head spins. I tighten my grip. “Then I better do everything I’ve been wanting to.”

And I grind once against her, watching her expression as I slide over that sensitive place between her legs. It makes her gasp. I rub her again, and she moans.

“I like that,” I tell her, unable to stop my grin. I’ve wanted that moan for weeks. I’ve dreamed of that moan. “Do it again.”

But I don’t give her the choice to deny me. I thrust once more, and her head falls back, breasts lifting up and begging for attention. I lick my lips. I’m ready.

I put her down, and she staggers, eyes fluttering open in confusion. “What’s”—she swallows—“Is something wrong?”

“God, no. I’m just trying to decide where to start.” I run my fingers along the band of her sports bra. “Take it off.”

Shyness creeps into her expression. She reaches for me, but I step back. “Ah ah. Take it off.”

Color flares in her cheeks. Parks is shy. She had an asshole husband who did a number on her self-esteem, but I’ve seen moments of the real Parker—the woman who’s confident and self-assured. The woman who can put me on my knees with a look. She has no idea what she does to me, and I want to show her.

Still blushing, Parker pulls the sports bra over her head, revealing small, but perfect breasts. The n*****s are already hardened, and it makes my mouth water.

All the things I’m going to do to you, I think, taking her in both of my hands and rolling the tightened peaks between my fingers. Squeezing. Pinching. Torturing both of us until—

“Please,” she whispers, and I’m undone.

I flip her around, pressing her ass into my shaft as my hands go to her jeans’ button. I tug it loose, and shove everything—panties, jeans—past her knees. She gasps.

And I bend her over the kitchen table.

I slide my hand down her bare spine and over her bare ass, finding that tender spot where cheek meets thigh. I stroke her for a moment, watching goosebumps climb up her arms. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages,” I say, squeezing her with both hands, spreading her until she’s pinned.

She whimpers, making my d**k throb. Hard. “Thinking about what?” she whispers.

I laugh. God I love how she plays. “I think you know,” I say, fanning my thumbs across her ass. I can’t decide if I want to kiss her or spank her. “I think you just want me to tell you.”

And saying it out loud makes me realize how much it’s true—and how much I want it. I want her to talk to me. I want her to tell me all the dirty things she needs from me.

So I can give them to her.

I wrap my hands around the backs of her thighs and listen to her hiss. “Tell me,” I say lightly.

“Tell you what?”

There’s a teasing lilt to the question and it makes me laugh again. I can’t help it. Forget the kissing, I give her an open-handed slap across her ass and she jerks, struggling against the table’s edge. No good though. She’s pinned and I can do what I want—and when I push her forward another inch, she goes still like she’s suddenly realized that.

Is that going to be okay? I wonder and lean over her, pressing my chest into her back. “Is this what you want? Because I can stop—”

“Don’t you dare.”

And just when I think my raging hard-on can’t get any worse. Three little words and she’s nearly bent me in half. I shift my weight, enjoying her heat as my d**k brushes against her. She’s slick already, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep from thrusting into her.

“Tell me,” I whisper, and feel her shiver underneath me. “Tell me you want to hear how I’ve been fantasizing about you.”

Her breath catches. “Have you?”

“Every damn day.”

“Fantasizing about what?”

“You’re soon to see.”