Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
There wasn’t a single dry eye in the house after his story. Not even his father’s.
***
I walked into the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower.
I needed to take one and get warm. Stupid Florida wasn’t supposed to be cold!
Not to mention, I needed to wash off the salt from my stupid freakin’ tears.
God, I hadn’t cried that much in a long time.
And that was saying something, because I cried a lot.
Frequently, in fact.
I’d just stripped off my shirt, pants, and panties, and was working on my bra when I felt two strong arms encircle my waist.
“I need you,” he said softly.
I opened my mouth to protest, but then I was in his arms, and he was pressing me up against the cold tile inside the tub—and I gasped in surprise.
The water was pelting us both in the face, so he hitched me higher until I was out of the water’s path.
“Parker…”
“Usually have to go to that alone,” he murmured hoarsely. “God, every year I tell everyone about my favorite memory, and every year it changes. How do you have a favorite memory of a little boy that was so full of life like Jett?”
I didn’t know.
I had a feeling, though.
Janie’s daughter, Abrielle, was still young yet. But whenever I spent time with her, a new memory was ingrained in my brain, and each one was just as special as the last.
“I’m so sorry, Parker.”
“You saved me.” he murmured, leaning a little farther back so that my face was a little farther from his.
The water was hitting him in the back of the head, curling around his ears and sluicing down his body.
It traveled from his ears all the way down, soaking him.
That’s when I noticed he still had his underwear on, but they were doing a really poor job at containing his erection.
Even though just minutes before I hadn’t been willing or in the mood, seeing his need instantly put me in the mood.
I’d do anything for him.
Anything.
And if what he needed was my body to help him make sense of the day, I’d give it to him. Willingly. All day every day if I had to, as long as it kept those shadows out of his eyes.
“Usually come to my hotel room, drink a fifth of whiskey—or at least try to—and then pass out. Make sure to have a late checkout, because by the time usual checkout is up, I’m still passed out drunk trying to pretend like I don’t remember.”
I bit my lip, then lifted my hand and curled it around the back of his head.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
His eyes searched mine for a few long seconds, and then he growled before slamming his mouth on my own.
We didn’t talk much after that.
He made love to me.
I’d experienced him hard—and it being my first time ever with a man—I’d surprisingly loved it.
But this? What he was doing right then?
This was making love. There was no other word for it.
Not when he kissed me slowly, tenderly.
Not when he lined himself up with my entrance and slowly slipped inside.
Not when he pumped himself into me in soft, smooth, yet firm strokes.
God, everything about it was magnificent.
He filled me fully.
He took me like I’d never imagined I’d be taken.
I loved it so much.
So. Fucking. Much.
And he kept the dizzying kisses up, making sure to swallow each cry that left my mouth.
When I finally peaked, my pussy clenching around him so hard and long that I thought I might pass out from the gloriousness of it, I knew that if I died right this very second, I’d have lived a complete and full life.
All because of Parker.
He came moments after me, filling me so full of him that I could feel him slipping out from between us.
He stopped moving and then pivoted, holding me aloft in the air with only his arms, and allowing the hot water to roll over my surprisingly freezing back.
I stared down into his eyes, my arms around his neck, and said the only words I could think to say in a moment like that.
“I love you.”
He didn’t reply or express anything whatsoever. Not with his words, anyway.
Chapter 20
You’re lying if you’ve never looked at the state of your bank account and considered the benefits of prostitution.
-Parker to Rafe
Parker
“This traffic is goddamn awful,” I told the empty cab. “Jesus Christ. I don’t want a Christmas present bad enough to fight this shit. Why should you?”
Nobody answered, which was honestly a given, seeing as nobody was with me.
But the Christmas traffic was driving me in-fucking-sane.
It was still ten days away, and everyone was acting like it was Christmas Eve and the hours were counting down.
I seriously did not see the point.
Christmas was a joke of a holiday, anyway.
Nobody remembered the real reason for the season. They only saw what they wanted to see, and that was a fuckin’ present to be had.