Cat & Mouse Games (Tempting Mr. Parker) (3 page)

He doesn’t jump, jerk, tense or startle like I’d anticipated. Maybe his military training has conditioned him to be collected and calm, hold his composure in every situation. Or perhaps he’d anticipated me pulling a few naughty tricks. I feel a little disappointed he hasn’t responded.

That disappointment is short lived. My feelings turn into delight when he doesn’t brush my hand away.

He doesn’t look at me, either. Nope, he gazes out the window, a faraway look on his features. But his cock jumps, hardens against my palm, his jeans the only thing separating us.

With his focus still on the passing scenery, I’m a little surprised when, with lightning fast movements, his hand covers mine, holds me tight against his shaft. Beneath my touch, he grows harder with every breath, until he has a full blown erection.

Oh, god. Sweet.

I fix my gaze on the front seats, trying to see if my parents notice what we’re up to.

Dad’s still driving, grumbling at the other drivers. Mother is as oblivious and happy as a jay bird.

I squeeze and grope Mr. Parker’s erection while struggling to maintain a calm façade. I want to giggle, purr, rub my hot pussy over his cock while I kiss the breath out of him.

I squeeze, stroke, pet the cock I’ve come to know so well. I don’t see my lover often, but I’ve spent plenty of time getting to know this piece of him.

His face is still a stoic mask while I touch him. Then, in yet another blur of speed, he peels my hand from his body. He keeps hold of my hand, turns it over until my palm faces him. With the tip of a finger, he draws on my skin. First, it’s a single line, a sharp point added at the end.

Okay, “I”.

Then there’s a curve, mirrored with another. A heart. Okay, I heart.

Finally, there’s a half circle. “U”. You. I heart you?
I love you?

God, for once I’m struck dumb and speechless. Totally weird for me.

I’m so stunned I turn to him sharply, and he meets my gaze boldly, his eyes steady, expression solemn. A shrill of overjoyed panic tears my focus from him, and back to the front seats, to my parents drowning in their own happy world.

Good. I allow myself a small measure of relief and pull my hand from his before my parents notice our touching. My cheeks burn, heart pounding wildly.

I heart U. I love you.

God. Is it true?

And why am I acting like this?

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard these words from a guy. Several of my past lovers had confessed their feelings. Often to the point of them being sickeningly lovey-dovey, which does nothing but annoy me. And I hadn’t truly cared since they were just fuck
buddies. Cocks come (I’m not going to snort my laughter
,
I’m not)
, a
nd cocks go.

No bigs.

But Mr. Parker is different. Always has been.

He’s special. He’s the first man I ever lusted after and still the one man I yearn for amongst all of the lovers I’ve had.

I heart U.

Does he genuinely mean it? I never expected much from our relationship due to our age difference… our situation. I have always tried hard not to think beyond the time we share together. Deep inside, I’ve always had the fear that if I pressed too much, I’d scare him off. Adults think differently than dopey teenagers, and I didn’t want to lose him. I like him too much. I’d probably go crazy if he says he doesn’t want to see me any longer.

I steal a glance at him, and it’s as if his eyes snare my attention, hold it steady. My chest feels heavy, constricted, and I can barely breathe beneath his scrutiny. It
’
s as if the heavens have opened and angels have sung, I know he means it. Okay, that was stupid, but that’s how it feels. The eyes are the windows to the soul and can speak a million words. His are saying three.

I skirt his eyes, study the tips of my worn intensity and my naughty mood evaporates.

Maybe I should behave myself. I shouldn’t tempt and tease him, so we can keep our affair a secret, hidden from prying, surely judgmental, eyes. If I’m careless and my parents discover us, it could be the end.

Since, you know, I’m pretty sure my dad won’t be happy with his best friend banging his daughter. Mr. Parker is only four years younger than my dad, so… yeah.

And, if I were older and not just starting college, my parents would view the relationship differently. Perhaps they’d see me as a “real” adult, free to make my own choices. They’d understand I can’t help who I fall in love with. But, for now, some things are best kept hidden from their prying eyes.

I behave myself for the rest of the ride; put the earbuds in and listen to my iPod.

At some point, I doze off, only to be shaken awake by Mr. Parker when we arrive.

* * *

My resolve to be a decent girl disappears the moment my mother introduces me to her friend, Carolyn Somersby. She looks to be in her early forties, but she’s got the body of a twenty-five-year-old. She’s got perky breasts (bigger than mine, the bitch), smooth skin, platinum blond hair (real, not bleached), a small waist and generous hips. Men would say she’s “perfect to be mounted”, all ripe and full of experience. I would call her type MILP: Mother I’d Like to Punch.

Ahem.

Adding to my bubbling irritation is the fact that Carolyn is pretty. She has these giant, blue, fawn eyes, heart shaped face and sensual, naturally rouged lips. Her voice is that of a songbird and her laugh is jubilant and carefree.

Can I just shoot her now? Leave her to rot in the wilderness? Please?

If I didn’t know my mom had planned for Joe to hook up with Carolyn, I may have even liked the woman. Maybe. But now, all I can think of is the fact that I want to wrap my hands around her slender neck and choke the life out of her.

Carolyn brings her own surprise… she’s brought along her son, Brandon, a sophomore at Brown.

Huh.

After the initial shock passes and the bullshit pleasantries are exchanged, my mother pats my shoulder and yaps happily, oblivious to my desire to kill her friend. “Jessica’s a sophomore at Brown, too!
Maybe you two could entertain each other?”

Crap. I honestly don’t need this. In my mom’s mind, I’m a five-year-old who needs help playing nice with a new friend. At the moment, I actually want to grab my father’s hunting rifle and herd Mr. Parker at gun point back to the SUV and spirit him far, far away from this madness.

Sayonara peeps, hello Hawaii. Bangkok. Bali. Wherever they can’t find us. I force a massive, sweet, fake smile as I try to tame the bitch prowling inside me. Carolyn is checking out Mr. Parker while Brandon treats me with the same sweeping gaze.

Mr. Parker and I glare at each other, unhappy.

My parents remain blissfully oblivious. Good grief.

Acting the gracious host, I show Carolyn and Brandon to their rooms. I know they’ve got a cabin not far away but, apparently, my mother decided wooing was best done in close quarters. When my grandfather built the cabin in the fifties, he’d blown his savings on the place, thinking he’d retire to the woods in style. Even though it’s big enough to be called the “log mansion”, we still refer to it as the cabin.

The cabin has two stories and six bedrooms upstairs, all sharing on large bathroom. The master bedroom is situated on the first floor, right along with the open kitchen that extends to the living room. Add in the hot tub on the back patio and it’s a veritable heaven on earth. There’s nothing like sliding into hot watery bubbles while surrounded by snow.

I give Carolyn and Brandon rooms on the left side of the hall while I make sure I’m in the room next to Mr. Parker’s.

And oh, what a coincidence, my room has an inner connecting door to his.

Huh. Wonder how that happened.

My room used to be my nursery when I was growing up, and my dad installed the connecting door so my nanny had easy access to me.

My mother is a blue-blood Southern belle to her toes and thinks a maid and nanny are necessities.

The moment I show Brandon his room, he strikes up a conversation.

“So, you go to Brown… I don’t think we’ve ever seen each other on campus.” He’s six-four, nice, toned body and takes after his mother in the good looks department with his pale blond hair and shockingly blue eyes.

I nod. I gotta play a little nice. “It’s an enormous place. I still get lost now and again.”

He drops his bag on the foot of the bed. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He turns toward me, rubbing his palms together. “So, are you dating anyone?”

Wow. Blunt.

My eyes widen, and now he gives me a small, sheepish grin. “Sorry, just curious. I figure, a pretty girl like you probably has guys lining up, right?”

Well, the guy’s got balls.

“No, not really.” I want to tell him the man I’m sleeping with is currently being ogled by his mother. Of course, I can’t do that, huh?

He nods, a different kind of smile in place, and heat in his eyes. “I’m not seeing anyone either.”

Now, I figure he’s yanking my chain or hiding deep in the closet. With his looks, girls should be chasing him. I’m seriously staring at a young Brad Pitt. And from my experience, these hotties score with nine out of ten women they meet.

“Oh,” I nod. “Awesome.” Before he can put any sort of “moves” on me, I conjure an excuse to get the hell away from him. “I, uh, have to help my mom with dinner.
Maybe you can help? Chop some wood for the fireplace?”

“Sure. I’ve helped my dad before.”

“Awesome.” I edge closer to the door, my escape in sight. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

I glide into the hallway and slam into Mr. Parker. I seize him, dig my nails into his muscled arm. He’s wearing an olive shirt that’s molded to his muscular body like a second skin. I lean forward and whisper, careful of our surroundings. “If you flirt with her, I swear I will kill you with my newly attained ninja skills.”

Okay, I have no ninja skills, but I’d get them just to kick his ass.

Mr. Parker only smiles in return, knows what I mean. My mom had been a bit over the top when she’d introduced him to Carolyn. Even the village idiot would have seen she was playing matchmaker.

He lowers his head, whispers back, “Wanna ditch this place and head to Vegas? Grab a quickie?”

“Why do we have to go to Vegas? My room is, like, ten feet away.”

His eyes blaze, and I’m struck by the naked want, desire and a little something else in his eyes. “Quickie wedding.”

I release him as if his touch burns, and I know my mouth is hanging open. I flutter. I stammer. My cheeks heat and I know I’m bright freaking red. “Y-you’re crazy…”

Mr. Parker just shakes his head, clucks his tongue, and then shimmies past me, heads into his bedroom, leaving me alone and
flabbergasted with his crazy suggestion.

Wedding? Is he serious?

My face is on fire. Seriously. Every time I think I’m in control, he raises everything to another level. Is he just fucking with me?

“You okay?”

The voice startles me, and I jump with a high-pitched squeak.

I hadn’t heard Brandon sneak up behind me. “Yeah,” I nod. “I’m fine.”

Brandon looks suspicious and doesn’t seem inclined to let it go. “You look… distraught.”

I cringe. “Girl problems. It’s a bitch. You wouldn’t understand.”

Brandon turns an icky shade of green. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

My mood doesn’t improve over dinner. Dad snagged Angus steaks from Mal’s and grilled them to mouth-watering perfection. Mom makes my favorite garlic mashed potatoes and baked Mac-n-cheese. I’m surrounded by the comfort food I crave, and all I want to do is fling a giant glob of my dinner at Carolyn Somersby.

The bitch.

I don’t know if she’s aware my mom is trying her hand matchmaking, but Carolyn is on Mr. Parker like white on rice. Hell, she doesn’t even try to be subtle.

At least my “come hither” game had been smooth, slick, seductive.

She’s dressed like a two-bit whore, face painted like a clown and she’s bombarding Mr. Parker with stupid ass questions. She brays like a mule with every answer. I’m tempted to slam a fist on the table and yell at my secret lover, “Vegas, now”.

But Mr. Parker is being himself, quiet and polite. He’s reserved while Carolyn comes on to him so hard it’s embarrassing.

Hell, even her son notices. Poor guy looks uncomfortable while my parents turn a blind eye.

I unleash my anger on the food and hope my jealousy isn’t visible. I pile a steak, mashed potatoes and Mac-n-cheese high on my plate and shove more into my mouth the moment I swallow each mouthful.

If I’ve got my face stuffed, I won’t be able to say anything nasty.

“Christ, Jess,” my Dad’s gruff voice cuts through yet another of Carolyn’s questions. “You hungry?”

“Not really, but it’s eat or kill the bitch next to my boyfriend.” Luckily,
my words are muffled by the food in my mouth and all they hear is incoherent babbling.

My mom shakes her head. “Manners, Jess.”