Chapter Thirty-Four
Eliot
The wine is gone, and I can’t remember the last time I had a meal this good. Or conversation this easy. Parker swears like she’s gotta use up all the good profanity before it spoils in the fridge, and that’s a turn-on I never knew I had.
We move into the living room after dinner, slices of pecan pie topped with vanilla ice cream in our hands.
“This is my mom’s recipe,” she says, her voice carrying a mountain of sadness she’s barely holding back. “She won bake-offs with it for years. But it’s never come out the way I remember.”
I dredge my fork into the sticky caramel concoction. The first bite is heaven. “This is the best damn pie I’ve ever tasted.”
She smiles, a little of the melancholy fading. “I didn’t say it was bad. Just…not what it should be.”
Setting the plate down, I rest my hand on her knee, bare skin warm and soft under my palm.
The hem of her dress rides up just enough, the bandage on her thigh peeks out from under it.
She’s still healing, and the reminder of how quickly we went from strangers to…
this…is staggering. But I don’t think those stitches are the only wound she’s carrying.
“It came from her. But it’s yours now. Maybe it’s exactly what it should be.”
Her eyes shimmer in the soft light, and she manages a small smile. “You’re gettin’ dangerously close to sappy, Flint.”
I chuckle. “Must be the wine. We’ll stick to Shiner from here on out. Or bourbon.”
“Good plan.”
She takes a bite of pie dredged in ice cream, and a bit of caramel sticks to the corner of her mouth. Leaning in, I drag my thumb over the drop, then taste it.
“Eliot, you keep touchin’ me, and this pie’s gonna go to waste.” Through the soft drape of her dress, her nipples tighten. “I’m already having a hard time rememberin’ how to use a fork.”
I scoop up a bite of my own slice, and bring it to her lips. “I’m happy to help…”
Christ. Watching Parker eat is the stuff of every man’s fantasy.
Her lips close around the tines of the fork, and I forget to breathe.
My dick strains against my zipper as her tongue darts out to catch a bit of vanilla ice cream before it can hit her chin.
And my God in heaven, the way her throat works around a swallow? Wars have been fought over less.
“You always this…obliging?” she asks. “Or are you tryin’ to see how long we can go without tearing each other’s clothes off?”
“Yes. And…yes. But I’ll stop. For now. Only because there are dishes to be done.
And my former captain drilled it into us from day one—whoever cooks doesn’t lift a damn finger to clean up.
I ain’t worked for that man in seven years, but somehow, he’d know I broke the rules and he’d write me up anyway. ”
Parker laughs, the sound rich and full and perfect. It lights up her whole face, crinkling the corners of her eyes and curving her lips in a way I can barely resist kissing.
“Well, far be it from me to stop you. But finish your pie first.” She scoots back a couple of inches, putting enough space between us for me to think with my head and not my dick. “So how often were you the cook when you were a firefighter?” she asks. “And what was your go-to dish?”
“I was the breakfast for dinner guy. Chilaquiles, quiche, migas, huevos rancheros. Anything I could abandon if a call came in. All of it spicy. We had this one guy, Tanner, who grew up in Wisconsin. Anything hotter than a bell pepper, and he’d be reachin’ for the milk.
Got to be I’d make a separate pan of whatever was on the menu so I didn’t have to hear him complain about his tongue bein’ on fire every time. ”
“Nate orders his Pad Thai zero stars.” Parker shakes her head and finishes the last bite of her pie. “Wimp.”
“Shit. Were those acaí bowls retaliation for you ordering Mario’s the day before? Because if so…he and I are gonna have words.”
“Probably. But how was I supposed to know the vinaigrette had jalapenos in it?”
She reaches for my empty plate, but I capture her wrist and press a kiss to her palm.
“Nope. My job tonight. Remember?”
She looks vaguely uncomfortable until I let go, then curls her hand into a fist on her thigh. But in the next breath, she sits back against the cushions. “There isn’t much to do. I clean as I go.”
“Good. That’ll leave us more time for the naked part of the evenin’.”
Parker leads me into the bedroom, barefoot, hips swaying, and that dress clinging to every curve like it’s glued into place.
I set my small satchel on her nightstand—a toothbrush, boxers, deodorant, and a strip of condoms inside.
A white, lacy throw covers her bed, corners squared.
A few strands of yarn have worn through, and from the look of the stitching, this didn’t come from a store.
Four pillows are stacked against a headboard that looks like it’s seen better days.
At the foot of the bed, there’s an old cedar chest, the corners worn smooth.
Everything’s mismatched, but obviously cared for.
Parker clasps her hands in front of her, releases them, starts to reach for me, and stops. “Can I touch you?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Her fingers tremble once on the top button, but she takes a deep breath, and loosens them one at a time until she reaches my belt.
“This is fine? Here?” Her palm hovers just above my sternum.
I pull her closer, one arm around her waist, and her fingers come to rest directly over my heart. “Need me to give you the map again?”
“No. I don’t think so. Graft margins are bad.
This spot”—she traces a small circle in the air over my ribs—“is an asshole. And this one I can do whatever I want with.” Sliding her hand into my hair, she tightens her fingers, pulling me lower until she can kiss and nip along the pulse point at my neck.
“Fuuuuuck, Parker,” I groan. “Keep that up, and I’ll come in my pants.”
“Wouldn’t want that.” She drops to her knees, flicks open the button on my Wranglers, and works my zipper down with aching slowness. Then she gives my jeans the same care. Finally, her fingers curl in the waistband of my briefs, and those hit my ankles too.
My palm flattens against the wall behind me, my knees no longer a sure thing. Parker takes me in her mouth, one hand wrapped around the base of my shaft, and every thought in my head that isn’t her name burns off after the first stroke of her tongue.
“Parker—” The word comes out wrecked. “I can’t hold on for much longer.”
She looks up at me, those pretty, swollen lips doing things to my crown I’d forgotten were even possible.
When I’m as close as I’m willing to risk, I cup her cheek. “Enough. I don’t want you on your knees, sweetheart. I want us to be face to face for this next part.” I reach for her elbow, careful not to stretch my torso too far, and help her to her feet. “I haven’t even kissed you properly yet.”
I take a few thick waves of hair in my fingers, and gently tip her head back to seal my mouth to hers. She tastes of wine and caramel and vanilla and me. The warm citrus of her shampoo does as much for me as feeling her nipples pressed up against the few places on my torso I still have sensation.
Our tongues don’t so much dance as fight for control, and in the end, I’m no match for Parker’s will.
She tugs my shirt off my shoulders, skimming her hands down my arms until she frees the buttons at my wrists. The fabric lands in a heap behind me. Her teeth capture my lower lip, holding on for a single moment before letting go.
“You’ve got me at a disadvantage,” I grit out. “I’m about to blow my wad and you’re still in your dress.”
“That’s easy to fix.” Parker slides the dress over her head, leaving her in nothing but a silky blue bra and panty set that leaves very little to the imagination. “I want to see you, Eliot. All of you.” Her hands settle lightly on my arms.
I let her turn me without a word. Her mouth finds a patch of healthy skin along my shoulder blade, then trails down the curve of muscle along my spine to the small of my back—to skin the fire never touched.
By the time she’s done, I don’t think there’s a single bit of unmarked skin on my back she hasn’t kissed.
“Parker.” I don’t recognize my own voice. But the need—that’s one hundred percent mine.
Turning, I reach for the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the floor between us. Parker shimmies out of her panties, and now it’s my turn to look. To appreciate all that creamy skin, the sprinkle of pale freckles that dot her shoulders, the weight of her breasts in my hands.
My thumbs skate over her nipples, and they rise to meet my touch. Goosebumps race along her arms. “Eliot…”
“I know. Fuck. I know.”
Hauling her against me, I guide us to the bed, pull back the throw, and ease her down. It takes me two tries to unzip my small bag. I tear the foil packet open with my teeth, then roll the condom over my length.
Carefully, I position myself over her, the mattress creaking slightly with the movement. Bracing my weight on my right forearm, I meet her gaze. “Tell me you want this, Parker.”
She looks up at me, pupils blown inside a ring of pale blue streaked with silver. Her fingers wrap around my left wrist, and she guides my hand between her thighs.
God, she’s so wet.
“Fuck me, Eliot. Now.” Her voice is raspy with need, and she grabs my ass and pulls me closer.
I plunge balls deep in a single thrust, and Parker arches her back with a little moan. Our first time was almost gentle, building slowly until neither of us could hold back any longer. This…this is heat and pure, raw need.
Her short nails dig into my ass, down the backs of my thighs. I grab onto the headboard, angling my hips, each thrust taking us closer and closer to the edge.
“Eliot…please… Harder!” Her whimpers turn into something more, and I seal my mouth to hers, swallowing the sounds until my balls draw up tight.
Parker flies apart first, a scream bursting from her throat to mine, because I won’t stop kissing her. Not for a second. Not even when my own release barrels through me, and the world turns white and my heartbeat roars in my ears.
I don’t remember collapsing against her. Or burying my face in the curve of her neck, the soft silk of her blond waves against my cheek.
I don’t remember her hooking her leg over mine. Or when her fingers started combing through my hair.
I only remember one thing. One clear memory that will stay with me forever.
The way she looked at my naked body. The way she wanted me. Broken pieces and all.