Enemies to 🔥Rom com
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Charles Winston Mayer-Chaz-is your typical trust fund, never gonna grow up playboy. His carefree bachelor existence is filled with women, money, and limited responsibilities in NYC is interrupted by the untimely de...
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The second I key in the code for my place and the elevator door closes, Parker's crimson lips curl into an innocent smile. She walks me backwards and my breath hitches while I fight a groan as she unfastens the buttons of my suit jacket.
This. Is. Fucking. Happening.
She remains silent while keeping direct eye contact, brows raised. My gaze lowers to her chest, heaving. The fabric of her dress, tightening against her tits—which normally would be more than enough for a jumpstart. She wriggles the bottom of my shirt, freeing it from my pants, and a low grumble starts in my throat. Heart pounding.
My dick should be pounding when her fingernails scratch along my lower abdomen. But it's not.
I can't get out of my own head right now, and it's a problem. Not a problem I'm used to having, anyway.
Shit, I actually feel bad.
Parker didn't deserve that. She doesn't deserve that. My brain is working overtime, wondering how many occasions she's had men do this to her on a professional level.
Why is my usually nonexistent conscience choosing right now to chime in?
She inclines her chin with a frown as I grab her wrists, stopping her from feeling me up... or down. Pretty sure she was going in that direction.
Normally, that would get the blood crazy flowing. However, I don't want her to think I'm the same as Fife.
I'm not, but... damn, I pulled similar shit. Well, I didn't tell her she had to fuck with me or lose her position. Though I definitely made her uncomfortable more than once—fucking fired her.
She did vise-grip my balls.
Still.
"Parker?" I search her face, offering a half-smile. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" Her eyes drop from mine, shifting down.
Talk about it?She's go time, game on, and I'm cock-blocking myself by asking if she wants to talk about it?
She shakes her head, attention landing on my hands that are gripping rougher than intended around her wrists. I release them, not wanting to be too harsh with her. After that bullshit, I have this overwhelming need to... protect her.
"I'm sorry," I apologize and exhale a soft breath, rubbing the already forming bruises on her knuckles from decking that lint licker. "I didn't mean to grab you that way."
I'm acting like a pussy-whipped bitch right now—fuck it, I don't even care.
"We don't have to do anything."
This place has definitely destroyed my mojo.
"I want to. And no, I don't wanna talk about it." Her fiery stare challenging mine, smirking as she yanks me by my tie.
