Denying Mr. Parks (The Parks #1) by Lilly James Read Free Book Online Page B

incredible inferiority complex.”
    I blinked at his vocabulary. “Come again?”
    He sighed in a way that indicated my obliviousness was adorable to him. “You have low self-esteem.”
    “I do not,” I shot back, extremely defensive because that’s what I did. I couldn’t take compliments or criticism. “Why are you even in here?” I glanced around the room. “Don’t you have Jittery Joanna to run around after you?”
    His green eyes stared at me for a second as though he was trying to figure out who I was referring to. Then he chuckled and pinched the bridge of his nose. It made me laugh, because seeing God’s gift smile was surprisingly refreshing; he completely lit up.
    “ Jittery Joanna is on her break, and as I watched your fine physique strut in here, I felt obliged to follow.” Proving he liked what he saw, his insatiable gaze lowered down the length of my curvaceous body dressed in a tight-fitted black dress.
    “Really? You don’t seem the sheep type to me.”
    “Trust me, I am not the sheep, Evelyn, but the wolf. I always take the last bite .”
    Oh. “Looks like you’re out of luck. Clarke just had the last tea cake.” I took a long sip of my tea as he watched me thoughtfully. I knew damn well he wasn’t talking about pastries. But I wasn’t going to be subjected to his dirty-minded ways. Even if my body was telling me to get sucked in, my sensible mind was telling me otherwise, and I had learned to listen to my head.
    “What about your cake, Evelyn?”
    I almost spat out my tea. “My cake it out of the question, Parks. Besides, it’s not even my birthday.” I hid my grin childishly, mentally thanking Rihanna for that line.
    “Hm,” he growled, taking a short step towards me, getting intimately close to my body. He gently took the warm mug from my hand and placed it behind me. My breathing was on hold, and my eyes were glued to his green, hooded irises. I could smell the devouring essence of men’s cologne. It was a burst of freshness along with strong masculinity. Desperately I wanted to push him away, but before I could, his face was inches away from mine, his cool breath against my lips. I’m not sure if it was consciously, but I could taste the watermelon juice he always sipped on his lips. I wasn’t fond of watermelon, but right then, I craved the taste.
    He brushed the tip of his thumb across my jaw and spread his fingers out across my cheek. “Is your cake moist now, Evelyn? Would you prefer it iced?” He spoke in a low, husky voice that tickled my lips. His tone commanded my nerve endings to stand to attention like their sergeant major had arrived. Shit. He was a charming, expert, arrogant arse who could most certainly make my cake moist—and he did. Even so, he wasn’t having a slice of me.
    “It certainly is not moist, Parks. And no, I can’t say I am partial to icing. It’s too…sticky.”
    A small, almost tortuously hot chuckle left his mouth as he breathed sweetly against my lips. “You would love mine,” he hinted, alluring amusement etched all over the beauty of his face.
    “I doubt it,” I breathed, unconvincingly. I hated myself for sounding so weak and helpless, but that was how he made me feel. That’s why I knew he wasn’t safe for me. He was dangerous, and I didn’t do dangerous anymore.
    He firmly pushed his rock-hard length between my thighs, instantly hitting my thumping sweet spot. Fuck. How was that possible? I gasped softly and instinctively held on to his bulging forearms. His smirk widened as result. Oh yes, he was satisfied with my reaction. I wasn’t. How could I let him do this to me? But I was glued in place. Wanting him, thinking about his perfectly curved, parted lips and watermelon taste erotically seducing my mouth; thinking about his big, soft hands roaming over my body, my legs wrapped around his lean, toned waist, and his length of steel inside of me whilst he worked me into an orgasmic overload on the counter behind me.
    “Can