—THIRTY-TWO—
It’s him.
I know I should be outraged, indignant, boiling mad—and I was.
I was.
Until I saw him.
Parker discovered who I was during that fateful video call, and instead of unveiling his true identity, he came to my house and had sex with me. He allowed me to believe that his alter ego had found me unappealing when he could have tempered my insecurities with the truth.
I had every intention of battering him with my bruised heart, assaulting him with the tears of my betrayal, but then his eyes locked on mine, and all I felt was…
Relief.
It’s him.
Parker is Zephyr.
Parker has Charlie’s beating heart inside his chest, functioning and strong.
Alive.
And the moment he opened his front door, I understood—I knew why he couldn’t tell me. He said to me once that he didn’t feel worthy, that his heart was a burden.
He was ashamed.
He felt like his scars and dark past made him an unfit candidate for such a precious thing.
“My Zephyr…” I breathe against his lips before stealing another violent kiss. I’m starved and achy. I need him. “I should have known it was you.”
Parker envelops me in a fierce embrace, dragging his lips from my mouth to my neck, then whispering in my ear, “I’m sorry. Let me expl—”
“No… I understand.” Clasping his face between my palms, I redirect him to my mouth, melting when our tongues collide. My right hand lowers back to his chest, relishing in the sweet vibrations of his heartbeats. Of their heartbeats. “Make love to me.”
He groans. “Melody…”
“Please, Parker. I need you,” I shamelessly beg.
It all makes sense now.
God, it makes sense.
This draw. This tether. This unexplained connection.
Parker hesitates, resting his forehead to mine and inhaling a deep, shaky breath. His eyes close tight, his brows pinching together with conflict. He wants to talk, explain. He wants to fix this first.
Except… nothing is broken.
All of the pieces finally fit.
I step back, biting my lip as I reach down for the hem of my sundress, lifting my arms and pulling it up over my head. The sunny fabric falls from my fingertips, landing in a delicate pile beside my feet. Slipping out of my sandals, I take one more pace backwards, then raise my chin, finding Parker’s eyes.
His green gaze rakes over me in a slow pull, drinking in my curves and lace. There’s a look of anguish etched into his expression, fighting with the lust, and I know he feels guilty, I know we should probably talk first… but my body is singing for him, and my heart is hungry.
My hand extends, palm outstretched, much like the time I beckoned for him in his bedroom. The night he froze.
Don’t freeze, Parker… melt with me.
He glances at my hand, blinking slowly, then meets my heavy stare from a few feet away. There’s another silent moment of hesitation before surrender washes over him, claiming him in a mighty grip, and his eyes flash with potent resignation.
A delicious chill sweeps through me.
Parker moves in with two long strides, then bends down to scoop me up, hoisting me up by the thighs until my legs wrap around his waist, my hands clinging to his shoulders. Our gazes hold for a striking beat before he starts walking, and I’m certain he’s bringing me to the couch, but Parker surprises me—he carries me down the short hallway to his bedroom instead.
We’ve never done this in a bed before.
There’s never been cool, silky sheets entangled with sweaty limbs, or a squeaky box spring, or spooning and cuddling atop a pillowy mattress. We’ve never woken up together with shafts of golden daylight dappling us in warmth.
The prospect sends a new wave of tingles to my core.
Parker deposits me on his bedsheets, unmade and smelling entirely of him. Heady and masculine. Earthy and clean. My legs are still clinging loosely to his hips as he leans over me, a darkened shadow in the unlit room. His hands trail up my body, from my thighs, to my stomach, to my breasts cased in ivory lace.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs softly, palming my breasts before gliding his hands to my neck. There’s no pressure, only tender possession. “Goddamn perfect.”
My thighs clench his waist as I arch my back, causing him to moan. I lift up, reaching for his belt, and his hands tangle in my hair as I unlatch him. Shoving down his pants and boxers, I waste no time in curling my fingers around his cock, hard and ready, and bringing him into my mouth.
He hisses, fisting my hair tight. “Fuck…”
I stroke him in a firm grip, suckling the tip, my own moans mingling with his.
Parker releases me, pulling back from my mouth and stepping out of his bottoms that are pooled around his ankles. Watching him through the wall of darkness, I reach behind me to unclasp my bra, then shimmy out of my underwear, scooting farther back on the bed—an implied invitation.
I’m fully expecting him to pounce on me, but a long moment passes where Parker just stands there, silent and wordless. I can’t make out his expression through the dark, only his shadowy silhouette, but as soon as I’m about to inquire, ask him what’s wrong, my heart seizes.
Parker reaches behind his back, gathering his t-shirt in his hand, and pulls it up over his head, tossing it to the floor.
Oh, my God.
A whimper of disbelief escapes my lips as I inch forward on the bed, wishing I could see him better. He falters before moving towards me, his heat closing in, and my arms outstretch, desperate to feel him. To touch him. To know every hidden inch of him.
Parker settles between my parted knees, his body stiff as a board, his breathing heavy and ragged. I pull him closer by the hips, instantly pressing my lips to his abdomen—his collection of scars. My tongue pokes out, laving the marred flesh, as I rain a scattering of delicate kisses to his skin. He shivers, nearly shaking, cupping the back of my head in his palms as he stands before me, fully exposed for the very first time.
I pull back for a quick moment, my hand searching for the bedside lamp. I want to see him. I need to see everything he’s offering me.
But Parker snags my wrist before I can find it. “No, please… not yet.” His voice sounds pained and uneven. It cracks as he finishes, “Just give me this night.”
My throat swells with emotion, hating that he thinks I’ll judge him or think any less of him once I see his scars.
Despite my desire for more, for all of him, I nod my head through the veil of darkness, conceding to his request.
Parker releases a sigh, part relief, part something else, and then he’s climbing onto the bed with me, his knees on either side as we shift into a comfortable position. He leans over me until I’m blanketed with his warm skin, our bare bodies finally touching, my breasts flush against the hard planks of his chest. The contact does something to me—almost more than I can bear—and I arc upwards, my spine bowing, trying to get even closer. Trying to crawl inside his skin and build a home.
He trembles against me with a soft groan, his hands moving to cup my face as my legs instinctively loop around his middle. His erection lies heavy between us, causing me to throb with a kind of need I’ve never felt before. Inching my hips up, a demand more than a query, Parker reaches between us and situates himself at my opening, so wet and wanting.
“Please…” I’m nothing but a begging, quivering mess, my fingers sifting through his thick hair while he cradles my jaw.
His thumbs dust over my cheekbones as he leans in to kiss me, and when our mouths lock together, his tongue and cock thrust inside, filling me completely. Making me whole. Our moans are instant, unbridled, only hindered by our desperate, tangling tongues.
Parker’s hips rock against me, slow and deep, and I feel him everywhere— in my heart, my throat, my womb, in every yearning, buzzing cell.
His forehead presses to mine when he pulls back from my mouth, his fingertips digging into my cheeks as he holds me steady, his hot breath hitting my lips with every longing groan. Our eyes are fixed together, and even through the cloud of darkness, I can see the intense emotion staring back at me. The toe-curling connection.
God, it’s too much.
My body is too sensitive, my soul too bare.
The intimacy is so thick, it hovers between us like a third party. A witness. The emotional avalanche to my senses is so brutal, so violent, a cry breaks through my lips, and I’m not sure whether I should tighten my hold to stay afloat, or push him away and swim to shore.
I cling.
My hands sweep across his bare shoulder blades, my thighs cinching us in a lethal clutch. Parker moves harder, deeper, our hearts galloping beneath our ribs, hands gripping and latching on to every reachable inch.
“My Melody,” he whispers against my mouth, moaning softly when my core clenches around him. “My Magnolia. My moon.”
Every aching piece of me weeps with adoration.
With joy.
With… love.
I arch my neck, sighing when his lips graze along my jaw until he finds my throat. He bathes me in hot kisses, his tongue sweeping over the crest. Finding my voice, I croak out, “Did you see the sunrise this morning?”
Parker doesn’t waver as he nicks my neck with his teeth, then lifts his head until we’re face-to-face, still moving inside me. “I did,” he whispers back, finding my eyes in the dark. “But I don’t think I saw what you saw.”
Inhaling a sharp breath, I lift up to kiss him, soft and brief. “What did you see?”
We both groan at the same time when Parker angles his hips, hitting me just right, in that sensitive, tingly place. I feel myself unraveling.
Swallowing, he continues to thrust, pushing my hair back from my forehead and holding me anchored. “I saw you,” he says, quiet but firm. “I see you in every sunrise. Beauty… promise.” He thrusts hard, and I shake and shiver. “A fresh start. A new beginning.”
I whimper, hardly hanging on. “Parker…”
“I love you, Melody.”
My gasp triggers a hot wave of tears, his face blurring above me as my eyes water.
Parker’s voice is strained, almost desperate. “I fucking love you,” he says ardently. “Just… know that.”
“I—”
“No.” He presses his lips to mine and murmurs, “You don’t have to say it back.”
But I want to.
His tongue slips between my lips, stealing my words away, and his pace quickens, his strokes becoming more hurried. Parker dips to my ear and whispers with command, “Now, I want you to come all over my cock.”
Oh, God.
His words alone have me buckling with bliss, quaking beneath him as my one hand grips the back of his neck, while the other tugs his hair. Skin on skin, bodies slick with sweat, grunts and pants and moans severing the silence of the dark room. It’s undiluted passion—pure intimacy.
And it’s my undoing.
Parker slams into me, hitting so, so deep, growling with need, and I feel myself peaking, the tingles swelling into the ultimate crescendo.
And when the mighty waves of ecstasy claim me, I cry out, loud and unhinged, holding him tighter and closer than ever before. My nails dig into the nape of his neck as stars burst behind my eyes and my body detonates in his arms.
Parker clutches me to his chest, gathering me in a fierce embrace as he follows behind me, groaning into my ear as his body tremors with the ripples of his release.
As the shocks flicker and fade, he collapses on top of me, shifting his weight to the side and pulling me close in a protective hold. His erratic breaths beat against my temple, and I dance my fingers along his upper arm, feeling satiated, fulfilled, and adored.
Loved.
Parker slips out of me, but he doesn’t move away—he only pulls me farther to him until I’m curled against his chest, drifting away.
Before my dreams steal me from the moment, I hear him whisper into my hair, “I love you.”
I fall asleep with a smile, knowing that for the first time in sixteen months, I’m finally and fully at peace.
Daybreak spills in through dark curtains, tickling my sleepy eyelids.
Stretching out my legs, my toes graze against his toned calves, and memories from the night before assault my senses with currents of euphoria.
A smile draws on my mouth as I blink awake, opening my eyes to bright sheaths of sunlight filtering through the small bedroom. Craning my neck, I glance beside me, finding Parker lying on his back with the bedsheet pulled up to his trim hips.
My heart lurches.
He’s fast asleep, only partially covered, his scars on full display.
Swallowing, I inch in closer, feeling like an intruder.
Did he mean for me to see him?
He would have put his shirt back on… right?
It’s not difficult to talk myself into raking my gaze over him, soaking up his beautiful, tarnished skin, and moving in until my fingers lift and graze along the evidence of his terrible abuse. Tears sting my eyes, my throat closing up.
He’s covered in scars, most of them the size of a cigarette cherry, but some larger, more jagged and cruel. My stomach twists with anguish, with blinding empathy, and all I want to do is hold him tight and never let him go.
I heave in a shaky breath, dragging my index finger up the length of his stomach until I reach his muscled chest. More little scars. More horror stories. More—
Wait.
Something in me goes still, my eyes scanning over him with confusion. Trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make any sense at all.
My insides pitch with anxiety. The warm tingles swimming through me turn to ice, freezing my veins. With a shaky hand, I sweep my fingers over the planks of his chest, as if I’m trying to uncover something that isn’t there.
No.
This… can’t be right.
Parker stirs beneath my frantic, roaming hand, his lashes fluttering as he stretches out his limbs. He inhales a slow breath, lazily coming back to reality, when all of a sudden, his whole body tenses and his eyes pop open, registering my presence. Processing my discovery.
We lock eyes.
Mine spear him with stunned panic, while his… shimmer with apology.
He stares at me, his gaze like a warzone—but less like he’s running into combat, and more like he’s crawling his way off the battlefield, beaten down and bloody.
This doesn’t make sense.
He’s Zephyr, I know he’s Zephyr—I saw him on the camera. He told me things only Zephyr would know.
This doesn’t make any sense.
Parker sits up straight, and I jump back, away from him, almost as if he just burned me. Disbelief surges through me as my eyes dart back to his chest, still searching for something that doesn’t exist.
A cry breaks loose, and I cup my hand around my mouth, realization sucker-punching me right in the gut.
He lied.
Parker has been lying to me this whole time.
Seventy-nine scars…
Seventy-nine scars, and not a single one of them is mine.
Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth. – Buddha