Parker’s dark brows lifted high. “No!”

“Flat on my ass.” We’d had dinner, the conversation easier once we’d gotten over our initial awkwardness. We hadn’t talked about anything deep but exchanged working information: our favorite movies, foods, preferred drinks for each meal, foods we couldn’t stand—all the stuff we’d need to know if we’d been dating for any length of time.

There hadn’t been many surprises, other than the fact that Parker’s favorite movie was The Godfather II. I’d expected something lighter and with a save the world message. But she loved the drama, the layers of meaning—her words, not mine.

She’d been equally stunned to find out my favorite was the first movie in the franchise, The Godfather. We had similar reasons, but I liked the original because that’s where we got to see Michael succumb to The Family.

Now we were on the outdoor couch, the fire pit flickering and giving off enough heat to keep us warm.

Parker rested her head on her hand and smiled wide. “So, the great Rhys Morgan got knocked out. Who did it? The current champion?”

God, she was cute.

“No. It was a training bout. I was green, full of piss and vinegar and wanting to prove it.” I chuckled. “It was my dad.”

Her lips parted. “Your dad punched you?”

“He had to. He was my trainer.” A pang of loss seared my heart. “Besides, he was teaching me a lesson. Next time, keep your guard up.”

In the face of her stunned silence, I shrugged. “It was a good lesson. Never got knocked out again.”

The glossy strands of her ponytail swayed as she shook her head. “Boxers are a breed apart.”

She said it with admiration. I could almost imagine she was looking at me with admiration. But that was probably wishful thinking on my part.

“Yes, we are.” I couldn’t help but ease closer. All night, we’d been touching. Nothing sexual. Simple light touches. Fingers skimming over hands, fleeting strokes along forearms, and quick press of a hand to a shoulder.

At first, we’d gone at it like the assignment it was, making a concerted effort to remember. But as dinner wore on, it became easier, natural. And while those touches had been completely PG, nothing more than what you’d expect a middle school kid to do, it had been sexy as hell.

Touching Parker while knowing it wouldn’t go further than that had gotten me so worked up, I was now aware of the smallest move she made. The woman would inhale and I’d be waiting to hear her exhale.

Firelight and the glow from the loft’s windows painted her skin in golds and oranges, highlighting the sweet curve of her cheek, the little pout of her lower lip. I liked her this way, all soft and easy and looking at me as though I was someone she wanted to know.

I touched a strand of her hair with the tip of my finger. “Tell me something.”

“Hmm?” She stayed languid, her head resting in her hand.

“You actually looking to hire a stripper or is it just a sexual fantasy you need help acting out?” Because I had to know what the hell that text had been about.

Parker’s eyes widened, then she blinked and laughed. I loved the way she laughed—light and carefree, her cheeks plumping and her eyes crinkling deeply at the corners.

“I totally forgot I’d texted you that.” Her hand landed softly on my thigh. I doubted she was even aware of doing it. But I was. I so fucking was. She smiled up at me. “My sister is getting married, and I’m in charge of the bachelorette.”

“Which of course needs strippers.” The thought of Parker and her uptown friends squealing over gym-toned, oiled-up guys gyrating in thongs had me grinning. Part of me couldn’t imagine her letting loose like that, but I wanted to see it happen—although preferably with me first.

I pushed lustful thoughts of Parker watching me strip firmly away. But I couldn’t stop staring at her. Under the string lights, she was all shadows, curves, and shining eyes.

“Honestly, my mother would probably die of embarrassment if we went through with it. Which is, admittedly, an incentive for my sister.” She laughed again, and the sound struck me right in the chest.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh.” The words came out in a husky rush. I shouldn’t have said them. But she stopped and stared, her lips parting as though I’d pleased her, and I couldn’t regret what I’d said.

Everything slowed down and the air thickened. My body grew heavy with need. She was so damned pretty. I wanted to touch that smile, run my hands over her golden skin.

Her gaze slid to my mouth, and my lower abs clenched tight. With a hitch to her breath, she spoke. “We should kiss now.”

God, yes. Kiss me. Let me kiss you. I’ll learn every sweet inch of your mouth. Kiss you till it hurts to stop.