Chapter 36 Mariella
I’m standing inside a small cabin with wooden floorboards. “Where are we?” I ask.
“Ski cabin in Wyoming,” he says over the gentle sound of burning logs crackling in the fireplace.
The subtle, smoky scent blends with the aroma of fresh pine. I tear my gaze from the dancing flames.
Parker’s a living statue with his hands in his pockets, skin aglow from the warm, golden light cast by the fireplace. His honey-hued gaze meets mine and heat floods my body.
“Fuck. Those eyes,” he says, his voice low and raspy. He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”
I take in the king-sized bed sitting against the main wall of the cabin and the grand bathtub in the corner, flickering candles scattered along its edge.
“Then you shouldn’t have brought me somewhere like this,” I say, not daring to take my eyes off him again.
Heart racing, I suck in a shallow breath containing little oxygen.
He stares back at me intensely, his chest rising and falling as if he’s out of breath. “You’re right.”
I don’t know who moves first, but in a heartbeat I’m back in his arms, his mouth claiming mine. His kiss is rough and desperate, as if at any minute we might be thrown back into that dark room where my life was taken.
His hands trailing my body, our chests crushed together, he urges me backward until we’re stumbling toward the bed, falling onto it with our lips locked. His body covers mine, pressing me down into the soft mattress, the evidence of his arousal firm against my stomach.
A heady need courses through my veins, and I grind against him, reveling in the deep, pained groan that rumbles from his chest. He plants fast, messy kisses down my neck and I want to stay here forever, cocooned beneath him, his consuming scent my own personal aphrodisiac. But I need his bare skin against mine.
I tug the bottom of his shirt, and he breaks our kiss, shifting his weight to reach behind his head and slide it off in one fluid movement. He tosses it on the floor, muscles rippling beneath my touch, and returns his mouth to mine.
I reach for the top button of his pants, and he pulls away from me, as if he’s awoken from a spell.
“Ella,” he says, and the word sounds pained. He sits up. “Wait.”
“I want this,” I say, sitting up beside him. I want more than heated glances and stolen touches. I want him. All of him. “The way I see it, I either don’t go to Neurovida and I live, or I’m recruited and I die—”
“Don’t say that,” he begs. “I swear to you, I’ll stop it from happening.”
“—and I want to know I lived the short time I have left with you the way I want it. If people have been changing things in my life without my knowledge, at least with this I’m the one who gets to choose. Please don’t take that away from me.”
Parker’s eyes race back and forth between mine. “What are you saying?”
I lean toward him, bringing my lips to his. His hands remain by his sides, his kiss cautious, the fire behind it stifled to smoking embers.
“Touch me,” I plead, my cheeks burning.
A cheeky grin creeps across his face. “I’m going to miss that,” he says, brushing his thumb over the redness in my cheek. “I can count on one hand the number of times I saw you blush at Neurovida. But to be fair, all of them involved the absence of clothing.”
“Don’t tell me,” I say, scrunching my nose.
His eyebrow twitches. “Why?”
Because it may never happen. The thought stabs at my heart. But if I take the antidote—if I go to Neurovida—I’ll have time with Parker. The chance to fall in love with him. I shut the thought down. I need time to process everything I’ve learned. To sift through the truths and the lies.
Parker’s still staring at me, waiting for my answer. I can’t bring myself to maintain eye contact and instead stare into the fire. “I don’t know. I guess I want to find those things out when I’m supposed to. It’s kind of exciting… the thought of you meeting me for the first time.”
I peer up to catch him grinning. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” he teases.
“At least I’ll have the upper hand.”
Parker takes my hands in his, and I relish the warmth of his skin. “Ella, you always have the upper hand when it comes to us.”
Us. Something inside me melts at the word, but it re-condenses into a cold, rigid mass.
In my future, we would’ve been together if it weren’t for Silas.
Now we can’t unless I take the antidote, ensuring my death.
Again, I push the thoughts away. Silas won’t taint any more of my memories.
This moment is about me and Parker, not anyone else or the impossible decisions ahead of us.
I press my lips to his, and he wraps his arms around me, drawing me closer.
“I want it to be you, Parker,” I whisper into his lips.
He tips his face toward me and spends a moment searching my gaze, a small frown between his brows. “It’s Liam. My real name. I don’t want secrets between us.”
“Liam,” I repeat, and it sparks something inside of him, his eyes changing from a cool amber to a warm honey as if they have a will of their own.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, knuckles grazing my cheekbone. His hand lingers by my face and my skin tingles beneath his touch. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. “Touch me,” I beg.
His eyes don’t leave mine as his fingertips trail downward, brushing the column of my flushed neck.
My eyes drift shut, and I arch into him, silently begging.
His hand moves lower, his touch like a light draft kissing the skin beneath my collarbone, skimming the swell of my breasts, ruffling the tie at the front of my dress.
He pulls at the knot, and my pulse quickens. The knot comes undone, and the material slackens, exposing my bra underneath. His pupils are dilated, his gaze locked on my breasts. I wait breathlessly as he sweeps my dress off my shoulders, the fabric pooling at my waist.
He swallows, his wild eyes roaming my body. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks in a gravelly voice.
I nod, impatient for his touch, and when it doesn’t come, I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, leaving myself exposed. “Touch me,” I repeat, lying back on the bed.
I’m about to die of shame when he moves over me, the painful longing in his eyes stealing the breath from my lungs. Holding his body above mine, he touches his hand to my jaw, assessing me, then he tilts my face up and captures my lips with his.
His kisses are no longer heated and desperate, but slow and deliberate, drawing out my pleasure with each careful stroke of his tongue. He kisses me until my breathing turns heavy, and I’m clutching at his sides, pulling him to me, desperate for the relief of his weight pressing down on me.
He finally relents, lowering his body to mine, and we both groan. We press into each other, and his lips explore my neck, trailing kisses down my skin until he reaches my chest.
“I’ve missed these,” he says in a playful lilt, giving my breasts the same careful attention he gave my lips. He licks and bites, taking my nipple between his teeth.
Within seconds I’m a writhing mess, a fierce ache between my thighs. I want his hands on me, winding me up like he did after the ball, but he’s content flirting with my chest.
“Liam,” I say, and it comes out like a plea.
“You have no idea how much I love hearing you say that,” he says, the two dimples in his cheeks fuel to the fire raging inside me. He returns his attention to my bare chest. “Now where were we, ladies?”
I cover my smile with the back of my hand, my laugh turning to a moan when he pinches one of my nipples and circles his tongue over the other. “I know what you’re doing,” I say.
“What am I doing?” he asks in mock innocence.
“You’re—” I gasp as he sucks my nipple into his mouth. “Stalling.”
“So impatient,” he mutters, shifting to lie beside me. “There’s a difference between stalling and taking my time, Ella.”
Then his lips are back on mine, our tongues caressing, his heavenly scent enveloping me.
He presses a splayed hand to the skin below my breast and slides it down my ribs, gliding over the crest of my pelvis and lower, between my thighs.
He strokes me through the thin material of my underwear with a feather-light touch, teasing me until I’m clutching the bedsheets and my body’s shuddering, the ache in my center now a throbbing heat.
I’ve gone this far with him before, but this time it’s different. The last time we were together was intense in its own way, but the way he’s kissing and touching me now is gentler. Slower. He’s taking his time with me, savoring every moment.
The corner of Parker’s—Liam’s—mouth kicks up into a mischievous smile. “I like these,” he says, fingering the lace of my underwear. He pulls them down, and I shift my hips to help him remove them, his upper body settling between my legs.
His hand trails up my inner thigh, brushing my bare flesh, and goosebumps erupt over my skin. I squirm, craving his touch and the pleasure it incites. His fingers move higher, my hips jerking at his teasing strokes, begging for that clever finger to press against my bare core.
Soft lips press against my thigh, right over my birthmark, and my breath catches. He draws the skin into his mouth, sucking and caressing with his tongue, leaving what I can imagine will be a large bruise.
“Liam,” I cry, lacing my fingers through his hair. I need more. “Please just have sex with me.”
He lets out a mocking laugh.
“Don’t—” My words hitch in my throat, replaced with a sharp inhale as he presses his mouth to my center, setting me on fire. His warm tongue works me in measured, sweeping strokes, and my head falls back onto the mattress, chest fluttering with each clipped, quickened breath.
I won’t last long, not when he changes his technique, alternating between sucking and running his tongue over me, swirling and pressing, drawing me to the edge.