Chapter Thirty-Five
Audrey
P arker is keeping his distance tonight, staying at his end of the bar and focusing on the customers. I appreciate it because my emotions are all over the place, and I do my best thinking behind the bar.
Seven weeks ago, I was content—overworked and with no social life to speak of, but content nonetheless. Then, Parker came barreling back into my life and wreaked complete havoc. He unearthed trauma I’d thought was buried and forced me to feel things I had never felt for any other man, bringing me both crushing pain and exquisite pleasure.
He has completely shattered my carefully crafted illusion of happiness and offered me something real. Now, I just have to figure out if I want to nestle back within the safety of illusion or take the risk of experiencing the real.
The first step is to break down the barriers and allow him into my personal space. The thought of him being in my bed, using my shower, and toasting Pop-Tarts in my tiny kitchenette is terrifying. Once I let him in, he’ll become a part of my sanctuary.
The night flies by faster than I want it to. Before I know it, we’re on the stairs, and I’m leading him inside my apartment. He drops his overnight bag on the carpet and makes a slow turn.
“So, this is it,” he says.
“Yep. It’s not much, but …”
“It’s cozy,” he finishes for me.
“Yeah, cozy. That’s a good way to describe it,” I say.
Coming up behind me, he swipes my hair to one side and kisses my shoulder. “You’re shaking,” he says.
I cross my arms over my chest. He falls back onto my bed and opens his arms, inviting me to join him. I take a seat and look down at him, my hair cascading and framing his face. He sits up against the headboard and brings his lips to mine.
“You want to talk?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’m too exhausted to climb that mountain at the moment.”
“You want to sleep?”
I shake my head again. His hand comes up and grips the back of my neck, and he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and gently bites down. I gasp, and his tongue dips inside. This kiss is different from all our others. They were the culmination of lust and pent-up frustration. But this time, it’s slower, more sensual. This is the kind of kiss that connects you on a deeper level.
I crawl into his lap, and his free arm comes around my waist. I don’t know how long we kiss, but at some point, I feel him grow hard beneath me. I start moving my hips against him, bearing down harder and harder to feel the friction I need. He can’t take it anymore and halts my movements by gripping my hips, and I let out a little cry of protest.
He flips me onto my back and kisses the tip of my nose. He stands, removes his shoes, and undresses, tossing his jeans, briefs and shirt to the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls me on top of him. We are nose to nose, and he reaches between us to pop the button on my jeans. I seal my mouth to his as he unzips my pants and slides his hand inside my panties.
“You’re wet for me, ” he growls, breaking our kiss as he slides his finger inside.
“I’m always wet for you,” I breathe as he starts pumping in and out.
I move my hips until he hits the exact spot I need, and I lean back and close my eyes as I ride his hand.
“That’s it, baby.”
I open my eyes and try to focus on him. “Parker,” I gasp as his thumb strokes my clit, and I tumble over the edge as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs as I come down from my high.
He bucks his hips and twists, causing me to land on my back on the bed. He tugs my jeans and panties down my legs, then reaches down to the floor for his jeans. I grab his arm.
“Don’t,” I say.
He looks at me with hesitation.
“I’ve been on the pill for years.”
He swallows hard. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “I want to feel all of you.”
That’s all the assurance he needs. He comes over on top of me, then reaches and slides the head of his erection against my slick, swollen entrance and groans. He pushes into me slowly, and then he thrusts leisurely as he makes love to me, kissing my forehead, my eyes, and my nose, driving me wild. I want him to go faster, but he takes his time.
When I can no longer stand it, I demand, “Harder, Parker. I’m close. I need it harder.”
He dips his head and bites my nipple through my shirt, and I buck off the bed.
He grins. “Patience. You feel so good wrapped around me. I don’t want to rush it.”
I bring my legs up and lock them around his waist, and I start rocking my hips faster and faster. He finally gives in and begins drilling into me until my toes curl as the orgasm shoots up my spine. I scream his name, and my fingernails sink into his sides as he arches his back, filling me with his release.
We lay here naked, his arms holding me tightly against his sweaty chest. Our hearts beat in rhythm. I’m not sure where we go from here; there’s so much to say, but I can’t find the right words. I love him. Even if I can’t say it out loud, there’s no denying that I feel it. It’s palpable, flowing between us like an electric current. Is it enough? Can love bridge the divide between who we were and who we are now? I want so badly to believe that it can because getting over him was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I don’t think I have the strength to do it again. I don’t want to do it again.
His hand drifts lazily over my bare skin until my eyelids grow heavy. I allow myself to drift off, knowing that whatever tomorrow brings, we will face it together.