Chapter Sixteen Parker
Chapter Sixteen
Parker
I love you.
That’s what I said to Noel last night.
I remembered the moment I woke up.
It’s why I’ve been lying in bed for the last twenty minutes, pretending to still be asleep while he moves around my kitchen making us breakfast.
I can’t believe I told him I love him.
More than that, I can’t believe it’s true.
I thought I was over him. Thought I had moved on.
I was wrong.
I was wrong, and the thought terrifies me as much as it thrills me.
All it took was him being back in town, and I’m head over heels for him. I haven’t felt this way since ... well, since I was eighteen, only this time, sneaking around and hanging out with him is far more fun and naughtier.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. Maybe it was when he stepped in to rescue me from Figgins and promised to stay and help with the theater, even though I knew he had much more important things to do. Or maybe when he took me out to the Falls and gave me the best orgasm of my life. Or how he looked after Axel’s daughters and me during that disastrous dinner. Or that he takes care of me when I have too many whiskey sours.
Or maybe ... maybe I just never stopped loving him at all.
I’m in love with Noel Carter, and I have no idea what to do about it, especially since he’s leaving again and I can’t go with him. I have far too much to do here, like finish the theater and run my business with Axel. I’ve worked hard on both, and I don’t want to give any of that up.
Besides, I don’t even know if I would want to go. I doubt I could handle the high-profile life he leads. That’s his world, not mine. I have no idea where I’d fit in there.
But I guess that’s not something I even need to worry about for a few more weeks.
I hear him grabbing plates from the cabinet, and I know it’s my cue to finally crawl out of bed. That’s good because I’m not sure I can handle thoughts of him leaving with this hangover.
I use the restroom, brush my teeth quickly, and pad out to the main quarters.
Noel is at the stove, flipping a pancake off the skillet and onto a plate. He’s barefoot, wearing the same jeans and simple gray T-shirt he had on last night. His back muscles are jumping with every move he makes. Whatever workout routine they have him on in LA is clearly paying off.
When he finishes the pancakes, he turns off the burner and heads to the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and two cups from the cabinet. He’s moving around my kitchen like he’s in his element, and all I can think is, He fits here.
He might have reservations about this town—and I get it, I do—but I think he belongs here more than he realizes he does, and that’s the worst part of it all.
I could ask him to stay and prove to him that this place is his home as much as it is mine, but that wouldn’t be fair. Just like I have my business to run here, he has his own career that’s much better suited for LA than some tiny town in Washington.
My eyes drift to Pumpkin, who sits on the back of the couch, one of my Frosty the Snowman figures between his paws as he nips at it. He looks at me and meows, a sign he wants his breakfast.
Noel hears him and looks over, his face lighting with a smile when he sees me. “You’re up.”
“I’m up,” I say, walking farther into the kitchen and straight to Pumpkin’s bowl.
I stop when I see it’s full.
He fed my cat.
My cat, the very same one who left scratch marks on his cheek just a couple of weeks ago. It’s ... well, it’s sweet.
“You fed him.”
“Huh?” Noel asks, turning to me.
I point to the bowl. “You fed Pumpkin.”
“Oh yeah. He was meowing his little head off. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s ... It’s ...” I race toward him, wrapping my arms around his middle, pressing my face against his chest. “It’s more than okay. I can’t believe you fed my cat.”
He laughs. “I’m trying to feed you, too, but I kind of need to move to be able to do that. Sit. Breakfast is just about ready. You feeling okay enough to eat?”
My stomach rumbles as I pull away. “I’m starving. ”
“Good,” he says, turning back to the stove and grabbing the scrambled eggs to plate them, “because I made breakfast. We have eggs, home fries, sausage, pancakes, and fruit.”
“It smells amazing.” I slide into one of the chairs at the two-person table. He already has everything set out—hot sauce, shredded cheese for the potatoes, syrup, and butter—even salsa, since he knows I love it on my eggs. “But you didn’t have to do all this for me. I was only kidding last night.”
He pauses, and I don’t miss it.
Crap.
Does he remember what else I said last night too?
If he does, he doesn’t say anything and continues to plate our breakfast.
He brings them over, settling one in front of me and the other in front of his chair. Then he grabs the two glasses of orange juice and brings them over before sitting down.
He lifts one glass to his lips, then takes a healthy sip before smacking them together dramatically.
“Taxes?” I ask. He grins, then hands me the juice he just took a drink from. “I hate taxes.”
“I don’t know. I kind of love them.” He winks as I take a sip, then points to my plate. “Now eat. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
I set the glass down and raise a brow. “We do?”
“Yes.”
“Care to tell me what we have going on?”
“Eat first.”
“Fine.” I slide my knife through the butter, then drop a big glob onto my pancakes before drowning them in syrup. I firmly believe that’s why pancakes were invented—as an excuse to eat butter and syrup for breakfast.
I take a bite, and though I should be embarrassed by the moan that leaves me, I can’t find it in me. Not when it tastes so good.
“Holy ... This is the best pancake I’ve ever had. How do you get them so fluffy?”
“Do you go to a restaurant and ask the chef their secrets? My lips are sealed.”
“Mean. Guess I’ll just have to kidnap you and keep you here so you can make these for me forever.”
He pauses for the second time this morning, and it takes me a moment to realize what I’ve said.
It’s a reminder that his time here is limited. It’s a reminder that I’m playing a dangerous game by getting so attached to him, but I don’t care—not when it feels so good, so right.
I just want to relish this little bubble we’ve created for a bit longer.
When we’ve both cleared our plates, I move to start cleaning up.
“Whoa there. What do you think you’re doing?” Noel asks as I lean over the table, reaching for his dishes.
“Um, cleaning?”
“Not happening. Sit. I’ll clean.”
“No. You cooked. I’ll clean.”
“Or hear me out, you sit, and I clean since I made the mess.”
I sigh. “Noel.”
“Don’t Noel me. Sit.”
“Fine.” I toss my hands in the air, plopping back in my chair. “Be my guest.”
So I begrudgingly sit there while he cleans up the kitchen, even grabbing the spray from under the sink and wiping the counters down. It’s as sweet as it is annoying, but I know if I get up to help, he’ll yell at me until I stop.
When he’s finally done, he walks over to me and holds out his hand.
“Oh, am I allowed up now?”
He smirks. “Yes.”
I let him pull me up, and he drags me right against him, pressing his lips to mine without any warning.
The kiss is hard and heated and has me tingling in all the right places.
I’m breathless when he finally pulls away.
“Good morning,” he says, like he didn’t just kiss me senseless.
“Good morning. What a way to wake up.”
“Oh, if you think that woke you up, wait until you see what I have in mind next.”
Without warning, he lifts me into his arms and sets me on the table.
“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.
“Having a second breakfast.” Then he drops to his knees and parts my thighs. He arches a brow my way. “Any complaints?”
I shake my head furiously, and he chuckles darkly.
“I didn’t think so. Now, lie back so I can eat your pretty pussy.”
A shiver racks through me from his vulgar language, and I don’t dare ignore his request, lying back as he hooks his fingers into my underwear and drags them down my legs. He grabs my hips, scooting me to the edge of the table where he wants me, then shoulders his way between my legs.
One swipe of his tongue and I’m arching off the table with a sigh.
I crash my fingers through his soft ink-black locks, pulling him closer.
“God, you taste good,” he murmurs against me. “I could stay here all day.”
“Do it,” I challenge him brazenly, and he laughs, sending a shock wave through me.
He slides his tongue against me again and again, the stubble on his chin rubbing at my most sensitive place. The roughness shouldn’t feel so good, but it does.
He continues to eat at me until I’m bucking against him, dying for a release.
But he doesn’t give it to me. He just keeps teasing and teasing.
“Noel.” I growl out his name.
Another laugh. “Yes, Peter?”
“You’re killing me.”
“Really?” He licks at me again, and I moan. “Because it doesn’t sound like I’m killing you. In fact, it sounds like you’re only moments away from coming on my face.”
“And I would be already if you didn’t stop tormenting me.”
“That so?”
“Please,” I beg. “I want to come.”
He smirks. “I think I can arrange that.”
Then he sucks my clit into his mouth, and I lose it. My back curves off the table, and I cry out as my orgasm crashes through me like waves slamming against a rocky shore.
It’s magnificent, but it’s over far too soon.
Noel kisses the inside of each leg, then up my body, taking my shirt— his , technically—along with him. He tosses it aside, then closes his mouth around a nipple, sucking at me gently while he slips his hand between us and works his jeans and underwear down his legs.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to kiss this spot right here,” he says, then drags his tongue over the tiny freckle I have under my breast. “It’s been taunting me for years.”
“Years?”
“Yes, Parker. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?”
I shake my head, then remember he’s not looking at me. “No.”
“Too fucking long,” he says, taking my other nipple between his teeth, flicking his tongue over it.
When he’s done kissing both my breasts, he works his way to my lips and kisses me thoroughly. It’s so good yet so not what I want.
I want him. And now.
I lift my hips, searching for his touch. He smiles against me.
“Eager?” he asks.
“For you? Always.”
He pulls away, and his eyes rake down my body, hunger and desire swirling in his blue-green stare.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he says, his voice thick with need. “Spread before me for the taking.”
“Then take me.” I lean up and wrap my arms around his neck, dragging him back down to me. “Make me yours.”
He grunts, his erection pressing against my opening.
“As if you already aren’t,” he grunts out before sliding into me.
I sigh in relief as he fills me, not giving me even a chance to adjust to his size before pounding into me again and again. And truthfully, I don’t want the chance. I want him just like this—raw and so ready for me that he can’t control himself.
The feet of the table squeak against the floor with his thrusts, and I have no doubt that when this is over, I’ll have to do some rearranging, but I don’t care. I can’t care. Not when it feels so, so good.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growls into my neck, one hand tangled in my hair, the other biting into my hip. “Any idea at all how good you feel? How badly I want to stay inside you like this for all eternity? How much I fucking want you? Because I do, Parker. I want you. All the time. Every minute of every damn day. That’s never changed for me. Never. ”
I don’t say anything back because I can’t.
My second orgasm barrels through me out of nowhere as Noel pushes into me harder and faster, chasing his own high.
Moments later, he gets it. He stiffens over top of me, his breaths growing sharper and sharper in my ear as he empties himself inside me.
He rocks into me slowly, working us both over until we’re completely wrung out, then finally he stills, the only part of him moving is his mouth against mine.
When he pulls away, I know I look a mess. My eyes are heavy, my hair is tangled from his fist, and there’s no way I’m not red all over from the stubble lining his jaw.
“Now that was a wake-up,” he says with a grin.
All I can do is nod, and he laughs.
He scoops me into his arms and carries me back to the bedroom. He drops me into bed like he did last night before taking off his clothes and sliding in next to me, tucking us both under the blanket.
I’m nearly asleep when a thought hits me.
“Wait.” I lift my head to look up at him. “You said we had big plans for the day.”
“I did.”
“Well, what are they?”
“You.”
“What?”
“You. You’re my big plan for the day. Just me, you, and this bed. Or the couch. Whichever. We can watch movies or nap, or I can let you take advantage of me. Whatever you want. You’ve been running yourself ragged. I just figured you needed a day to do nothing. That okay?”
My shoulders sink with relief. I’m not sure I could handle a day out and about. I’m tired. These last few weeks have been exhausting between juggling the renovation and the events. It’s taking a toll in ways I hadn’t even realized.
But Noel did.
Of course Noel did.
“That sounds like heaven,” I tell him, tucking myself back to his side.
And it’s exactly how we spend the day.
I do take advantage of him ... twice.
“Are you really just sitting and looking longingly out the window?”
I sigh, my chin resting on my hand as I look out at Borgen Avenue from my spot at Rossi’s Café. “Yes.”
Noel laughs. “You look like a little kid who’s been told they can’t go out and play in the rain.”
“That’s because I can’t go out and play in the rain. It’s halted all construction.”
It’s Wednesday, and we’ve been waiting out the rain for two days now.
It’s frustrating because we take one step back for every step forward with the theater. There was a great turnout at the auction, then asbestos set us back two days and ten grand. Then Axel’s hand got messed up, which cost us labor hours we can’t get back. We had the bowling and trivia event where we raised a significant amount, only for it to rain nonstop for two days, and it doesn’t seem like it will clear anytime soon.
While I know this project isn’t going to happen overnight, I also feel like we’re making very little progress, and I desperately want to make progress. I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, and I just want to be done so badly. Not to mention Leonard and his “reports” on the progress.
“Is this because of Figgins’s latest article?” Noel asks, reading my mind as he sips the lavender lemonade that I got him hooked on, and just the mention of the guy has my blood boiling,
“No. Maybe. Yes.”
His lips pull up on one side. “You know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, right? Hardly anyone reads the Gazette anyway.”
“ Everyone reads the Gazette , and you know it.”
But I appreciate him trying to make me feel better about Leonard’s latest dig in his What’s New segment of the newspaper.
Under Theater Construction ? He put “ nothing. ”
And that was it.
Nothing!
It was like a slap in the face for everything I have accomplished even despite our setbacks. Like running two successful events with turnouts this town hasn’t seen in years. Or lining up our first production— Beauty and the Beast —to open this winter. Or all the hours I’ve spent making sure every last detail is as perfect as possible.
Figgins will be lucky if I don’t give him a piece of my mind the next time I see him—or kick him. I haven’t decided which yet.
But I have decided that I’m now even more determined to prove to him and the naysayers who held the project back for so many years that this will be the best theater they’ve ever seen. Sure, we’re still far from having this thing fully funded, and every day it’s looking more and more like I’m going to have to take out a very hefty loan to complete it, but it’ll be worth it to see the looks on their faces when I open the doors and the townspeople come flocking to see our shows.
They’ll just have to wait and see.
“You’re still getting plenty done. You were up half the night designing and redesigning the lobby, right?”
“I didn’t hear you complaining when I”—I glance around the café to ensure nobody is paying us any attention—“took an extended break.”
He grins wolfishly. “Oh, I’m not complaining. I quite enjoyed you on your knees for me, Peter.”
My face heats at his words, and I rub my still sore knees, a reminder of our night of activities. I’ve never much been one for oral, but I’ll admit I liked being on my knees for him too.
The one good thing about the rain delay is that it means more time with Noel. We’ve spent the better part of the last two days alternating between my bed and the couch—and, okay, the kitchen counter too. I’d have thought by now I’d have had my fill of him, but it’s been the total opposite, and I can’t get enough.
I have no idea what I’m going to do when he leaves.
How am I supposed to go back to life as I knew it before he breezed into town? How do I go on, not kissing him every day? Not hearing his laugh or seeing his smile light up a room? How am I supposed to move on from him after this?
I can’t, and I don’t.
I just need to accept the fact that I’m doomed to repeat my mother’s history—I’m in love with a man who doesn’t want to stay.
“Want to go do something reckless?” he asks out of nowhere.
I already am doing something reckless by loving you.
But I don’t tell him that. Instead, I say, “Such as?”
“I don’t know. Go egg Figgins’s car or something?”
I laugh. “I will not commit felonies with you, Noel Carter.”
“It wouldn’t be a felony. I highly doubt we can cause five grand worth of damage.”
I lift a brow. “Why does that number sound specific enough that it’s exactly how much damage you’d need to cause for it to be considered a felony?”
He shrugs with a grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I shake my head, sipping my own lavender lemonade. “So what do you have in mind other than the destruction of property?”
“I got nothing. That was my only plan.”
I bark out a laugh, so loud several heads turn our way. I glare over at Noel.
“What?” he asks innocently, though he knows it’s his fault I’m getting stares. “But seriously, we could hike out to the Falls. I know how much you like it out there.”
“I don’t want to get muddy.”
“We could go bowling?”
“We just went bowling on Saturday.”
He leans across the table. “Then we can go back to your house, and I can fuck you again.”
His words go right between my thighs, and I clench them together, wanting that more than I realized. “Let’s do that.”
He shoves to his feet, his chair scraping loudly across the floor, and now everyone is looking at us, including Gianna and Greta, who are behind the counter.
He holds his hand out to me, and I happily accept it, letting him pull me to my feet.
I can’t help but giggle as he drags me to the door, and I wave to the café customers looking at us with wide eyes.
We look ridiculous, but I don’t care. That seems to happen a lot with Noel, the whole not-caring thing. He makes me feel far too good to be bothered by much.
My giggles subside when we step outside and come face-to-face with Leonard Figgins.
I school my features, trying to hide my displeasure at seeing him.
“Leonard, hi. How are you?”
“Me? Oh, I’m fantastic.” He grins widely. “How are you, Parker ?”
I hate the resentment he puts on my name, as if I have wronged him .
I paste on a fake smile. “Positively peachy. Couldn’t be better.”
His grin widens, and I hate it. I want to reach up and wipe it off so badly. “That’s lovely. It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it? I hear we’re getting even more rain tomorrow. It’s good. We could use it.”
No, we really couldn’t. We’ve been drowned enough over the last few days.
“While we’d love to stay and chat about the weather, we’ve got plans. I’m sure you understand, Figs ,” Noel says snidely.
Leonard narrows his eyes at Noel. “Right. I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you’re a busy man. I heard you’re up for a new role. The next Avengers , I believe, is what they’re calling it.”
I look up at Noel. “You’re up for a new role?”
Is this the same script he was reading the other night? The one he was so engrossed in that he was late to the fundraiser at Bigfoot’s?
“Nothing’s set in stone,” he says, but he doesn’t return my stare, and that giddiness I felt just moments ago is replaced by a heaviness that leaves my stomach feeling sour.
“Well, while this has been lovely ,” Leonard says, clearly knowing it’s been anything but, “I’d better run. I have lots to do at the paper. There are so many important things to report on.”
Leonard grins like he’s just won a prize, pushes his rain-streaked glasses back up his nose, and continues on his way. He’s only a few feet away when I hear his jaunty whistle, making me want to kick him all over again.
“Well, that was something, huh?” I mutter, looking back up at Noel.
He nods, still keeping his eyes anywhere but on me.
I loop my arm around his. “Are you still coming over?”
“Hmm?” he asks distractedly, then finally looks my way. “Oh. Yeah. Let’s go.”
We don’t talk on the walk there or when we walk inside my cozy house, hanging our raincoats by the door. Not a word is uttered as Noel drags me into his arms, then down the hall and straight to my bedroom, where he makes good on his promise from the café.
And that dreadful feeling never does go away.