I shoot him an evil stare he probably doesn’t deserve when the elevator chimes and the doors open, sticking my hand out to secure the sensor so Parker can exit first. I feel Samuels follow, so I take her hand as we walk down the hall and into the apartment.

“Do they count?” I ask in a whisper as we approach the apartment door where another agent stands. “Will they tell your family they saw us kissing in the hallway?”

“We’ll have to see another time,” she says, and maybe I should be hurt by the rejection, but then she leans her head on my shoulder and, man, that’s how I know I’m wild about this girl. Something as simple, as innocent as this fills my cup. And when she yawns, I swear I feel her nestle a little more against me and that cup over flows.

Opening the door for her, Parker steps out of her shoes, picking them up. “Thanks for a great date, Fitzy.” She stretches on her toes, pressing her lips to my cheek.

Fucked, I think to myself as I clench my fists because all I want is to turn and seek her lips out with mine.

Parker backs away, and turns around, walking past the stairs and into her room.

Beyond fucked, I think to myself as my eyes trail the swell of her ass. My fingertips twitch, angered that they barely skimmed the top of it.

I lift my head to the ceiling and exhale.

I hear the gentle click of the door and toe off my own shoes before I walk upstairs, shutting my door and charging into the bathroom. I turn on the water, and tug my t-shirt up to slip it off, but something stops me taking it off all the way. I say something, because it’s Parker’s scent. Somehow, when she sat in my lap, my front pressed into her, she wove a potion of vanilla and soap that has me in such a chokehold, I nearly suffocate.

Finally, I free myself and fling my hand into the warm water, turning it to cold. Because god damn, I smell bits of myself mixed with hers and it’s got my head spinning and my blood pumping south again.

The smart option would be to get into the shower and let the temperature do its magic.

The better option would be to toss the shirt into the hamper.

I bite my lip hard. “Fuck it.”

Parker has rubbed off on me. And god, do I want to rub off on her.

I turn off the water and quickly unlatch my belt. I’m cursing myself as I go in more ways than one because I’m damning myself to total misery as I conjure up how it would feel to breath this scent straight off her skin instead of through the shirt I bring back to my nose.