Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,36

office upstairs, but sometimes, I’ll work in the living room or dining room. Or outside, but I’m more likely to get distracted out there.”

I nodded like I understood perfectly well what he was saying. A big part of me wanted to see what his bedroom looked like. But that would be a big move. I doubted we’d leave the bedroom if we made our way up there right now and I wasn’t ready for that kind of exercise.

“Well, color me impressed, Mr. Parker,” I said.

Wes rubbed the back of his neck. “I usually don’t have people over.”

“How come?”

He shrugged and looked around. “It’s always felt like a little much to me. A bit extreme. Like I bought this place thinking I was someone I might become but never did. Sorry, I realize that doesn’t make any sense.”

I blinked at him. “You feel like an imposter in your own home?”

Wes laughed. “I’m a writer, Briar. I feel like an imposter in every facet of my life.”

That made my heart hurt. He was exceptionally talented. He’d earned what he had, fair and square. Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t he see the beauty in the life he’d created? He wasn’t rubbing it in anyone’s face. He wasn’t bragging. He was humble. Grounded.

I stepped a little closer to him. All I’d have to do is stretch to the tips of my toes and I could have kissed him. “Did you feel like an imposter tonight at dinner with me?”

His hazel eyes slowly shifted back and forth between mine. “No, I didn’t.”

“Do you feel like one now?”

He swallowed. His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat and I watched it before noticing the soft flutter of his pulse under his jaw.

“No,” he whispered.

I pressed a hand to his chest and gazed up at him. He smelled like mint and spices. “How close do I have to get before you kiss me, Shakespeare?”

Wes plucked the wine glass out of my hand, set both our drinks down at the side table behind him, wrapped an arm behind my back, and pulled me against him with strength I didn’t realize he had. Under those clothes was a body I wouldn’t mind seeing. His lips crashed against mine and he forced my head back as need rippled through him. His fingers pressed into my spine and his other hand cupped the back of my neck, where his fingers inevitably slipped into my hair.

I moaned softly against his kiss as my hands curled into fists in the front of his shirt.

When I’d lain in bed at night, alone and desperate for someone to touch me as I read one of W. Parker’s books, this was the kind of kiss I’d dreamed about. It was the kind of kiss Wes wrote about.

Deep and full and desperate enough that it felt like my lips were burning.

So were other parts of me.

Chapter 16

Wes

Briar clung so fiercely to the front of my shirt that the collar dug into the back of my neck and my tie was practically strangling me.

I didn’t give a damn.

Her body crushed up against mine was all that mattered. I slipped a hand up the back of her shirt and felt the heat of her skin against the tips of my fingers and my palm. She didn’t protest as my touch wandered up her spine, tracing her strong back and pausing when I reached her bra. She let out a fluttery breath as I pinched it between my thumb and finger and flicked my wrist. The bra snapped open and Briar giggled against my lips.

“I have moves,” I breathed.

Briar released my shirt and cupped my face in her hands. It might have been the nerves, but her fingers trembled as she ran them along my jaw. “So it would seem you do.”

I moved my hand from her back to her hip and then up her side until I cupped her breast in one hand. Her breath hitched in her throat and the tiniest sound escaped her. I was gentle and she melted into my caresses after her brief hesitation. She pressed more fiercely against my body as if begging for more, so I turned her around and lowered her onto the sofa.

She looked good lying there, waiting for me to descend upon her.

I soaked in the sight of her hair splayed out all around her head and her breasts rising and falling against the neckline of her shirt as she breathed heavily. Not wanting to waste another second, I