Angie asked Parker. He looked up from the plate of onion rings he was devouring and glanced around. “Nope. Same shit. Different day.” “Pfft,” she answered with a shake of her head. “You need glasses, old man.” Wiping his mouth on a napkin, he didn’t respond right away. Then, when he was good and ready, he sat back, draped his arm over the back of her chair, and yanked until it scooted closer to his. “Did that bench come with restraints or do I have to search through boxes to find enough rope to tie your smartass up?” Grinning at him, she thought, I knew he’d like the bench! “Why do you keep assuming it’s gonna be me on that bench?” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked. Hard. “No topping.” It would be so much fun to continue playing with him, but too many people were around. Shame, though. She liked where this line of conversation had the potential to go. Angie wasn’t kidding about Parker’s caveman behavior turning her on. Hadn’t taken long to figure out all she needed to do was attempt to call the shots, and he’d get all chest-thumpy and growly with her.
