Mixed Up(34)

"Why does it matter to you if he gives me his number? Did you consider I might have wanted it?"

He stops with his mouth open. If he had a response, he changed his mind about saying it. Instead, he stared me down. He locked his gaze onto mine and holds it, the intensity of his dark eyes too much to keep looking at, yet too compelling to turn away from.

We stayed like this, a silent battle of wills, for a good minute. Neither of us moved or spoke, almost as if time had frozen, suspending us in it. There were plenty of places to move to, but no room to go. I was locked entirely on him, held in his space by nothing more than one stare I couldn't help meeting.

"You want his number?" Parker's voice was low, yet it sliced through the silence as if it were a scream. "Here."

My heart skipped as he closed the distance between us in a few long strides. He stopped only inches away from me and held the small, torn-off sheet out for me.

I didn't want the guy's number.

But I took it anyway. Just to make a point.

His eyes searched mine with the closer distance, and I couldn't help but notice the amber flecks that speckled the dark brown of his irises. They glinted gold when the light caught them right, and momentarily, I was struck by how handsome he actually was. Not only was the color of his eyes mesmerizing, they were surrounded by thick, dark eyelashes I'd give my left ovary for. Even the mole just below his right eye, in the corner, added to the perfection when it had no right to. 

My heart didn't just skip. It sprinted, beating wildly against my ribs, trying to outrun itself even though there was nowhere to go.

I wanted Parker Hamilton.

I wanted him to kiss me just so I could see if his lips were as soft as they looked.

I wanted him to fist the back of my hair just to know if his grip on it would be as firm as it was when he held a knife.

I wanted him to sit me on the edge of the goddamn counter to see if he'd keep his word.

And it was wrong. It was so, so wrong.

"I can tell you all about him," Parker said, his voice still low. "Call him, Raven."

I hated the way my name rolled off his tongue.

"He'll fuck you to get a job. Then he'll tell you he doesn't mix work with pleasure."

I hated the way he said pleasure, with a low inflection at the end.

"And when he's bored, he'll move on until something challenges him."

I hated the smugness that tinted every word he said.

"The woman or the kitchen-it doesn't matter. He's not a career chef. If he were, he wouldn't be buying drinks for his girlfriend and chatting you up at the same time."

"His friend's girlfriend," I finally said, clearing my throat.

"I watched him walk to the bar. He was alone at a table with a girl who, seconds before, had kissed him."

Shit. He had me there.

His lips curved into a smug little smirk I wanted to pluck right off his face.

"Don't ever undermine my authority again," I said, my voice matching his. "You won't like what happens when you do."

Parker took my chin in his hand, his thumb brushing the underside of my lower lip. "The next time I undermine your authority, you'll be on your goddamn knees in front of me with my hand print on your ass."

"Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged."

I smacked his hand away from me and forced myself not to look at his mouth. I couldn't-I wouldn't. "Get yourself the fuck out of here before I listen to the voice telling me to fire your ass for overstepping the line again."

His hand fell to his side, and I didn't know what I expected, but it wasn't what he said next. "If I didn't respect your brother so much, you'd have a fucking good reason to fire me."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that your brother is the only reason you're not against that wall with your legs wrapped around my fucking waist."

The words were a warning.

A threat.

Maybe even a promise.

"Try it," I bluffed despite the shiver that tickled my spine. "See what happens if you do."

He grabbed my wrist and pushed me to the wall right next to us. One hand fisted as he rested his knuckles on the wall near my hip, and the other flattened just above my head. He wasn't touching me, but his breath fanned across my lips, making it seem as if he was.

I held his gaze. I wanted to look away, to stop this from happening, but I couldn't. I refused to back down from whatever the hell this was. I didn't know if his heart was beating anywhere near as fast as mine or if his stomach was flipping the same way mine was, but I could see what I wanted to see in the twitch of his jaw.

He was barely holding onto his self-control.

It was hanging by a thread, and one more word would snap it.

One more word, and it wouldn't matter how much he respected my brother.