CHAPTER TEN
Parker
The morning came like the bright, cheery bitch that summer in Florida was. Not that summer in New York wasn’t great, but Florida had it beat. Except the afternoon storms, which were ironically more welcome than a nuisance. If you were unlucky enough to be out in the humidity all day long, that was.
I’d barely been back here for a week, yet so much had happened.
Loss of my sanity had happened. Inability to think rationally had happened.
Raven Archer had happened.
And she had me fucked up.
She wasn’t what I’d expected when I’d come home. I knew that now more than ever. She was so much stronger and controlled than I remembered, and the girl I was once able to walk over, I could barely push back a step. She had a bite that matched her bark. Maybe it even surpassed it. I wasn’t sure I’d felt the full force of what she had to give just yet. Whether she was saving it for a rainy day or I hadn’t pushed her to that yet, I didn’t know.
But, I’d seen it in her eyes when I’d pinned her to the wall. I’d seen the fire that burned in their depths, and I could still feel its heat.
When Raven Archer snapped, she was going to burn the world down with her. And it would be all my fault.
I needed to stop. I’d already gone too far. I’d already gone beyond my own line of what was right.
If I was honest, none of it was fucking right. It was childish, especially for a man who was almost thirty. There was something about her, though, and now, I knew was it was.
Temptation.
I couldn’t have her, so I wanted her more. More than I’d ever wanted anyone. It was clichéd to fuck, but I didn’t care. Something about the way she looked at me when she got annoyed sparked something deep inside me.
The fuckboy’s number from the bar? Bullshit. I made it all up—except the girlfriend part. He had a girlfriend alright, and while I didn’t believe for a second Raven wanted his number for anything more than business purposes, I didn’t want her having his number at all.
Of course, it’d backfired.
She’d called me on it, and I’d had no choice but to hand it over.
I didn’t know why that pissed me off so much. I had no claim to her, no matter how tempted I was. I could tell myself it was because she was Ryan’s sister, but there was only so long I could use that excuse. There was only so long I could tell myself that before I wasted my own damn time.
It was because I wanted her.
I wanted her.
I couldn’t have her.
Problem was, I didn’t want anyone else to have her, either.
I was selfish, and I didn’t give a fuck. The more time I spent with her, the stronger I felt about her. I still didn’t even fucking like her. I tolerated her at best, but now, disliking her was less about her being her, and more about myself.
I disliked her because resisting her was impossible. Because I was getting weaker. Because I was so fucking close to giving in and tasting her.
I couldn’t.
But soon, I would. I knew I would.
And there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do to stop myself.
***
I blinked at the sight before me. “What are you doing?”
Raven dragged her eyes from the instructions she was holding and met my gaze. “Building.”
“What is it?” I scanned the pieces that were strewn across the back area. “And why are you doing it yourself?”
“A pool table. Uff!” She pulled something that resembled a leg and looked like it weighed a ton toward her. “And I’m doing it myself because I’m an independent woman.”
I folded my arms and leaned against the wall. “Your dad is busy and Ryan wouldn’t help.”
A heavy sigh escaped her red lips. Did she ever take that lipstick off?
“My dad is fishing and my brother is an asshole,” she said after a moment. “This thing is really heavy, but I have to build it, because I don’t have anywhere to store it.”
“How long have you been sitting here?”
She clicked her tongue, followed by a shrug.
“Raven.”
“Two hours,” she muttered, picking up the tiny bag with some screws in.
“Two hours?” Laughter bubbled inside me. “You’ve been sitting in the middle of this for two hours?”
“Not right here.” Her gaze flitted to two other spots where, amongst the crazy, the floor was suspiciously empty. “I also had to go fix my nails, because I broke one.”
I glanced at the hand she held up. I had no idea what her nails were supposed to look like, so I had no comment. “Why didn’t you call for help?”
“Because I try to spend as little time with you as possible.”
“And you were too proud.”
“That may have been a contributing factor.”
I shook my head and pushed off the wall. “So, this was your answer? Sit on the floor for two hours staring aimlessly at an unbuilt pool table? Wow, I hope you’ve had fun.”
She flicked her eyes up to mine sharply. “Don’t mess with me. My ass is sore.”
“Good. Serves you right for sitting here like an idiot all day.” I joined her on the floor and whipped the instructions off her lap. The tiny, bright orange shorts she was wearing were just that—tiny. Which meant I could see the lacy edge of her underwear. “Shut your legs.”
Raven looked down at herself and, with a squeak, uncross her legs. She leaned to the side and tucked her feet beneath her ass, dropping the screws in the process. “This is awkward.”
“Speak for yourself.” Getting a glimpse of her bright, red panties wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to start today’s work day. I had to hold the instructions in such a way that she couldn’t see my cock hardening in my pants.
My cock was such a fucking traitor.
“The hardest thing about this is how heavy it is,” I told her, looking intently at the instructions. “How did you expect to lift this table when you were by yourself?”
“I was going to make it on its side. Then it’d be halfway there.”
I looked at her before I could stop myself. “You’d probably break your back.”
“Why? I’m quite strong.”
“I’m not saying you’re not.” I’d seen her lift some pretty heavy crates full of bottles without breaking a sweat, after all. “But this is a two-man job, Raven. Like it says on the top of the instructions.”
She squinted, leaning forward. “That’ll be why I struggled to put a leg on the top, then.”
“You think?” I asked dryly. “Do you want my help?”
“Are you gonna go all “Me man, me strong” on me?”
“Depends how “me woman, me weak” you go on me.”
“Well played.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Fine.”
“I didn’t hear you ask.”
“Now who’s ridiculous?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Ask me nicely and I’ll help you.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’d rather break my back right now.”
“All right, then.” I dropped the instructions and stood up. “I’m sure your customers looking for a nice Sunday cocktail will enjoy seeing this mess when you open in six hours.”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek. “You offered your help. Why do I have to ask?”
My lips quirked up to one side. “Because I’m going to enjoy your discomfort more than you know.”
She blinked at me for a second. Then, she swung her legs around and crossed them.
I didn’t mean to look, but my eyes had other ideas.
Once again, the soft fabric of her shorts meant her underwear was on show. Something about the bright red lace that seemed to match her lips and nails perfectly set me on edge, and it took only seconds for the stirring of desire to come to life. My blood rushed to my cock, and before I could turn to adjust my pants, Raven glanced at my rapidly-hardening cock.
The tiniest of smirks curled her lips, and when her eyes met mine, there was nothing but smug satisfaction glinting back at me.
Discomfort.
She was playing me at my own fucking game. Because now, even if she changed, every time I looked at her today, I’d be thinking about her underwear. And something told me she damn well knew it.
Shit, she wasn’t playing me at my own game. She was playing me by her own damn rules.
Raven Archer would be the death of me.
“Shut your legs, or the next time you open them, you won’t be wearing a goddamn thing.” My voice was steady but low, and there was no threat in it. It was a promise, pure and simple.
I could play by her rules, too. If it was good enough for her, it was good enough for me. Except I would follow through on my words.
She waited a moment, clearly in defiance, before she closed her legs. “Now you’re in discomfort,” she said through her smile, “Will you please help me build the pool table?”
“Can I bend you over it after?”
“Only if you want to be punched in the face.”
“We’ll see.” I sat back down. Fuck, it was uncomfortable. My cock pushed right against my zipper, and a grimace crossed my face as I not-so-discreetly tried to push it out of the way of the zipper.
Raven glanced down—three times—before looking away quite obviously. If I was bad at hiding my erection, she was bad at ignoring it.
That didn’t make it any damn easier.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” I muttered, holding my hand out for the screws.
***
“Wait, wait, wait!” Raven flapped her hands. “I can set them up!”
“I’ve been waiting for five minutes.” I rubbed my fingertips across my forehead. “Just use the fucking picture, would you? I still have prep to do.”
“I know, I know.” She picked up the ball nearest to her with her finger and thumb. “I told you, we’d have a quick game. I’m pretty bad at this, so you’ll beat me in minutes.”
“Assuming you ever get the balls in the triangle to actually pot anything.”
She slammed her hands against the side of the table and glared at me. “If you’d be quiet, I’d be able to concentrate.”
“And if you used the picture, you’d be done already.”
She dropped her head back with a groan. “Fine, give me the damn picture.”
I slapped it down in front of her and walked to the other end of the table. She’d gotten changed from what she’d called her “slob” clothes into something more appropriate for work.
Appropriate was a relative term. Truly a matter of opinion. I didn’t believe the skin-tight, scarlet skirt she was wearing was at all appropriate. Not because it was only a few inches long, but because it hugged her ass so unfairly well that I was glad the pool table hid my boner.
For the most part, at least.
Untucking my shirt was doing the rest of the work—except I was damn hot. The table had weighed a ton, and Raven hadn’t really been much help at all. She guided it more than she lifted it.
Just like she’d supervised as I’d built it.
“There.” She whipped the triangle off the table with a flourish. As she bent to put it inside the little hole in the table, her white blouse gaped, offering me a generous view of her cleavage.
I rubbed my hand down my face.
Was this my punishment for ignoring my mother’s attempts to drag me to church this morning? Because it sure as fuck felt like it.
Raven’s hand curled around the top of the cue. She used a chalk cube on the tip of it as she asked, “Am I breaking?”
“The pool balls or my balls?”
“The pool balls. I don’t care about yours.”
I did. Unfortunately. “Yes. You’re breaking.”
“The pool balls or your balls?” She smirked as she came up next to me, the white ball in the palm of her hand.
I swallowed and looked down at her. Her eyelashes were darkened with a coat of mascara, and that only made the blueness of her irises seem as though they were ten times brighter.
“Both,” I answered, my throat dry.
“Excellent.” The happy inflection as well as the way she slid her hands down the pool cue simultaneously pissed me off and made my cock twitch.
She bent forward, getting into position to break. Stepping back, I realized instantly that it was a mistake. The hem of her skirt was now perilously close to the curve of her ass cheeks, and it was only thanks to the shadow that fell across her skin that I couldn’t see if she was still wearing those goddamn red, lacy panties.
I was fucking imagining it though, wasn’t I? It didn’t help that I could see a thick string raising the fabric of her skirt. Or maybe the fabric of her skirt was pressing down on her underwear. All I knew was that red panties or no, if her skirt rode up anymore, I’d be seeing more than just her underwear.
The small pop of the cue knocking into the white ball was overshadowed the moment the white hit the pack. That click was loud, filling the air as balls bounced off each other into the cushions at the sides.
Each time the balls hit each other, it sounded exactly the same as a smacked ass.
I had issues. Major issues.
Raven straightened. “Huh. That was better than I thought.”
I blinked, dragging my eyes from her ass to the table. “Yeah. It was good.”
“Are you gonna take your shot?”
Cum shot?
Fuuuuck. Why was everything dirty to me today?
Oh yeah--I’d seen goddamn lacy panties and she was wearing a skirt that should be rolled up over her hips so she could get a good fucking.
“I have a shit ton of work to do,” I said slowly, putting the cue down on the table. “And you should really be encouraging that.”
And if I have to stay here, I’m gonna stare at her ass, and I’m gonna do something to get myself fired.
Plus: Ryan. Ryan’s sister. Ryan’s little sister.
Raven sighed like me wanting to do my job was a hardship for her. “Fine. But I was looking forward to this, so now you owe me a game.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I turned and walked in the direction of the kitchen. “Wear fucking sweatpants next time, wouldja?”
Her laughter followed me even after I’d yanked the door shut behind me.
I knew better than anyone she’d had fantasies about torturing me—except those were violent ones.
Right now, the violent methods were definitely preferable to the literal case of blue balls I was developing.