Chapter 13 Parker
PARKER
Soft snores filtered in from the back of the truck as Beckham slowed at the turn for his house. I’d figured Avery would fall asleep on the way, if the number of yawns before we left were any indication. I could play off my silence as being considerate while she slept, but really, I was nervous.
I hadn’t been sure what to expect from the conversation with his brothers, but Reed being pissed wasn’t on my bingo card.
Sure, the man had always been a grump, but never toward me.
That, paired with how I hadn’t felt like I was imposing until I walked in on them talking about me, had my emotions on edge.
I’d put on a brave face, but with my hormones, I was doing all I could to hold the impending tears at bay.
After parking in his usual spot, Beckham came around to open my door before doing the same to Avery’s.
He didn’t hesitate as he reached across the sleeping girl to unbuckle her and gently scoop her into his arms. I quietly closed both doors and tried not to focus on the way Beckham’s biceps flexed with Avery in his hold.
Like he’d done it a dozen times, he unlocked and opened the front door using the hand under her legs, then swung it open to let me in first. I slipped past him, and he nudged the door shut before heading down the hall in the direction of his bedroom.
Not a single word passed between the two of us.
While I waited on the couch, I checked my phone. A text from two hours ago popped up.
Axel: How are you holding up? You and the baby doing okay?
A strange sense of calm washed over me with my cousin’s check-in. He’d been doing that every so often since I told him I was pregnant and navigating things on my own.
We’d known each other existed while growing up, but with the feud between our fathers, we never met.
With free will and the desire to reclaim the things my parents had robbed me of, I’d found Axel’s sad excuse for a Facebook profile and reached out.
It’d taken him weeks to respond—something about how technology wasn’t his thing and his teenage daughter was the reason his profile existed to begin with.
After that, I’d driven to Midnight Valley to meet them.
He was a single dad, so he understood the struggles I would be facing doing this on my own.
The difference was Annabelle was sixteen now, and lived for giving him headaches and heart attacks.
I hoped my experience would be a little bit different.
Me: We’re okay. I’m back in Bell Buckle.
Axel: Visiting or staying?
Me: Both?
I could imagine him shaking his head at his phone, a frown on his face. His little town was eccentric. Neon lights lit their streets, the nightlife in Midnight Valley invigorating as ever. During the day, Axel fit in. But at night? He came alive. The whole town did.
Axel: Wouldn’t have expected anything less. If you need anything, call me. I mean it.
I could tell Axel had been worried when he found out I was traveling solo. It was probably a normal feeling, having a teenage daughter and all, but I assured him I was okay. Just because the remainder of my close family was dead didn’t mean I had nobody left.
I shot a text back, then let curiosity get the best of me as I opened the account I was trying to ignore.
My notifications had run wild with my silence, and the red bar at the top confirmed as much.
Rather than scrolling through those, I clicked a few of my posts, glancing at some of the top comments.
One in particular caught my attention. Stopped my heart for a beat, too.
The same man who’d left the comment about me on my horse had typed: Anyone know where her family lives? Just wanna check in.
I reread the comment at least ten times before closing the app and tossing the phone on the other end of the couch.
No one online knew I was from Bell Buckle. I’d kept that part of my life a secret for a reason. Yet his interest had me gnawing on the inside of my cheek, worried someone with the wrong intentions would find me here.
Down the hall, Beckham quietly shut the door to his room and padded toward me in the living room, socked feet silent on the floor. His appearance had me wiping any trace of worry off my face and shoving the comment out of my mind.
“Does she sleep here often?” I asked from my spot on the couch, readjusting my legs so they were bent as far as they could go. The bulge of my belly pressed against my thighs.
Beckham grabbed two waters from the fridge before joining me.
He plucked my phone from the cushion and set it on the coffee table before taking his seat.
“I watch her for Sage and Callan when they have appointments or need a minute to themselves. Depends how tired she is from the day or if they’re late getting home. ”
I glanced down the hall, noting he’d laid her in his bed and not the guest room. I assumed she stayed in the guest bedroom when I wasn’t here, which meant…
“I can take the couch tonight,” I offered, feeling bad that he had no other options.
He shook his head, his mouth a firm line. “No.”
My forehead scrunched. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the couch because I’m in your guest room. I’m appreciative of you letting me stay here, but I can’t upend you completely, Beck.”
His stare was hard, setting in stone that there was no room for negotiation. “You’re not sleeping on the couch, Parker.”
He held the water out to me, and I took it.
“Well, neither are you,” I declared defiantly.
He uncapped his bottle and brought it to his lips, eyes on me as he drank. I watched his Adam’s apple bob. His lips wrapping around the opening. His hand gripping the plastic before he brought it down to his lap.
The smirk on his mouth told me he noticed me staring.
“What do you suggest, then?” he asked, a cocky lilt to the question.
My eyes narrowed in challenge. “Sleep with me.”
He choked out a breathy laugh. “You askin’ or demanding?”
I crossed my arms. Cocked a brow. “What’d it sound like?”
His little half-smile nearly melted me to a puddle. “You got bossy, Park.”
“I got tough.”
His gaze roamed down my chest to my legs, taking his time with his slow perusal before meeting my stare again.
I swallowed.
“So what you’re saying is you won’t hesitate to throw a punch if I end up on this couch tonight?”
“If fighting’s where we have to take this, I’m not above it.” My shoulders lifted in a casual shrug.
“Fightin’ with our clothes on or off?”
His words had my cheeks flaming. Had me shifting on the cushion as my core heated and my pussy pulsed.
What the fuck was he doing?
“Beckham—”
He brought the bottle to his lips but didn’t throw it back. “I’m only joking, Park. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” He drank.
“I’m not wearing any.”
Water flew, a cough sputtering from his lips as he choked. “Jesus, Parker.”
I cocked my head, fighting my smile. “What?”
“Warn a guy next time. Could’ve fucking killed me.”
I shoved off the couch, holding my shoulders back a little more to pop my breasts out. I wasn’t sure why I did it—my growing chest didn’t need more attention than it was already calling. Then I walked past him, heading down the hall.
“I still get cold at night,” I called over my shoulder, quiet enough not to wake Avery.
A sigh sounded from the living room before a muttered, “Of course, you do.”
Teasing Beckham was fun.
Felt a little like old times.
A little dangerous, too.
I opted for a silky tank top and my underwear.
The bottoms were no different than how I typically slept, and Beckham was well aware of that with our history of sleepovers.
The top, however, was a luxury I rarely indulged in.
Matching pajama sets were expensive, so I chose old T-shirts and no pants most nights. But tonight was about riding the edge.
My nipples were perky and hard, my breasts larger than ever before with the pregnancy. And as the door opened and Beckham appeared, he noticed.
“Fucking hell, Parker.” He scrubbed a hand down his mouth and shifted his gaze to the floor.
I pulled the covers back and crawled in on the far side of the bed. “What?”
“You want to attend another funeral this week? Because that’s the path we’re heading down.”
With my back to the pillows, I pulled the comforter right below my ribs. “It’s just like old times.”
His eyes darkened. “Old times was me ripping those panties off you and fucking you all damn night.”
I nearly let out a squeal at the sudden boldness of his statement.
His focus darted to my cheeks that were surely the shade of a cherry before moving to my mouth.
“Stop biting your lip,” he demanded.
My teeth quickly popped off it. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.
He was quiet as he scanned the bed. The floor. The entire room, like there was somewhere for him to hide.
“If this is going to work without us touching, there need to be rules,” he said.
“Who said anything about us not touching?” I asked innocently.
He narrowed his eyes on me, then crossed to the bed.
He grabbed the edge of the blanket, and I eyed his clothes. “Sleeping in jeans and a T-shirt?”
He frowned. “I don’t want to wake Avery by getting a pair of sweats.”
I wiggled until I was lying flat on my back, staring up at him. “Sleep in your underwear.”
I swore I heard him whimper.
A second later, he unzipped his jeans and shucked them to the floor, along with his shirt. The veins in his arms bulged, like he was restraining himself. One look at his body had me doing the same.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Beckham Bronson was a goddamn sex god.
Hard muscles rippled down his abdomen. A well-defined V disappeared into his boxers, along with a faint freckling of hair, where my eyes then met with a much-bigger-than-I-remembered imprint of his cock.
This time, I did squeal. Shutting my eyes, I quickly flipped onto my side so my back was to him. Not a moment passed before a hand was on my arm, tugging me back flat. My eyes opened to find Beckham hovering over me.
“You think it’s fair you get to stand before me in your underwear and I can’t do the same?” he questioned.
“Completely fair,” I choked out. I was suffocating in memories of him naked with me.
He cocked his head. “What’s wrong, Parker?”
“Hot.” I swallowed, attempting to compose myself. “I’m hot.”
His gaze caught on my lips. I stopped breathing. “I thought you were a cold sleeper.”
“Not anymore,” I squeaked.
He was slowly getting closer, and I didn’t think he realized it. “We’re only going to sleep next to each other.”
I nodded quickly, briefly regretting not letting him sleep on the couch. I’d been a fool to think we could restrain ourselves in this bed. Especially in an environment we were all too comfortable in.
Together. Thinly clothed. Under the sheets.
“You’re going to stick to your side of the bed, and I’m going to stick to mine,” he went on.
Another nod.
“We can do that, right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
I did not, in fact, stick to my side of the bed.
Waking up wrapped around his body the next morning was proof of that.