“I love you,” I tell him and he kisses the back of my neck, letting the kiss linger for a few moments before pulling away.
“I love you too.”
“I’m nervous too,” I whisper, leaning my head back and resting it against his shoulder. I don’t turn to face him though, instead I continue to look straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact, just in case I’m wrong about how he’s feeling. But I’m not wrong, and I know this the instant he takes in a deep breath, pulling me in a tight embrace. He lays his cheek on my shoulder and exhales onto my neck, causing a shiver of excitement to run right through my body.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” he says, and I can feel his entire body relax. He reaches for the bottle of wine and corkscrew and after a moment of fighting with it, realizes that he’ll need both of his hands to be able to get it open.
He hands me the bottle. “Here, hold this for a second,” he says.
I take the bottle into both of my hands and hold it steady while he uses the corkscrew to take the cork out. “I thought you wanted us to be completely sober for this,” I say. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to having a glass or anything, but I know how much keeping that promise you made to me means to you.”
“Shit,” he says, putting the corkscrew down and then taking the bottle from my hands. “I wasn’t even thinking. You see how nervous I am? I completely forgot all about that.”
I laugh. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Parker. I don’t think a glass will hurt. It might help us relax a little bit,” I say, turning my entire body around to face him. He casually looks up at the ceiling so as not to look directly at my naked body, most notably my breasts. “It would be kind of nice for us to actually be able to look at each other without blushing, wouldn’t it?”
He laughs, shaking his head. He lowers his eyes just enough to look into mine but not any lower. “This is not at all how I planned for this bath to turn out.”
I reach out and take his chin into my hand. “Look at me,” I say, positioning his face so his gaze can’t avoid my breasts. He tentatively takes one into his hand and rubs it gently. It feels amazing.
“Trust me,” he says. “It’s taking all I have not to look at you and touch you as much as I am craving. If I was only thinking with… you know what, you would be up against that wall being fucked senselessly.”
I position my legs on either side of him, over top of his, and scoot my butt right up between his legs. His hardness pushes against me, and all it would take to have him inside of me would be a simple reposition. “I wouldn’t be opposed to having you fuck me against a wall,” I say with a grin. I bring my lips to his chest and begin kissing his tattoos, one after another.
He moans, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. “I want more than that,” he says after a few moments, and I stop kissing his chest to look up at him.
“What do you mean?” I ask, not really sure if he means he wants more than my kisses on his chest or more than fucking me up against a wall.
He shrugs, sitting up slightly. “I’ve never had sex with anyone that I was in love with before.”
The thought had never really occurred to me up until now and I begin racking my brain trying to remember the names of the people he told me he’s slept with before. There was his very first, a girl named Kelly who he’s only slept with once. Then there was the MILF, Rebecca, who he slept with a lot more than once. Then a cheerleader named Julie who used him to get back at her father for something. And then, of course, there’s Tris and Adrienne who he really crossed some boundaries with. Those are the only names I remember and sure enough, he didn’t love any of them. I find myself wondering if he’s slept with anyone after that.
“Have you been with anyone else since… we, um, broke up?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I was going to once… but I didn’t go through with it. She wasn’t you.”
I raise my eyebrows but don’t say anything. His answer is sweet, but for some reason all I can think about is Parker getting naked with another girl and it bothers me. How crazy is that? I have no right, and I know it.
I absentmindedly begin to trace my fingers over his tattoos, following each one down his torso, and taking the time to really admire them. His body is covered with them now. Last year he had maybe fifteen in total, but now his number must be closer to thirty.
My fingers pass by so many images. Symbols of death, of hope, of fear; a Celtic cross, a dragon, a heart on fire; quotes from famous people, from books, from movies, from poetry; phrases in Latin, and Greek; tribal tattoos starting from his shoulders and making their way down his arms to his wrists. I see the number 34 on his stomach, which I recognize as his jersey number, wedged between a beautiful drawing of an angel resembling his mother and the grim reaper.
He’s wearing his entire emotional self on his skin. Everything no one knows about him is either depicted or written right here in plain sight for anyone to see if only they cared enough to really look.
I brush aside a cluster of bubbles floating on the water’s surface and then dip my hand underneath them, tracing along the spot between his pelvis and bellybutton, over a word I can tell is written in Greek. He brushes my hand away, taking it into his, and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. I curiously look up into his eyes, wondering why he’s decided to stop me now, with this specific tattoo.
“What’s it say?” I ask, looking back down and trying my best to remember the symbols I’d learned in my Greek Studies class last semester.
When he doesn’t answer me, I look up at him again and I see worry etched across his face. He tilts his head to the side and the uneasiness I see in his gaze makes my eyes dart back down to the tattoo. Why doesn’t he want to tell me?
And then I see it.
Sigma, kappa, upsilon…
Lambda…
Oh my God.
Alpha…rho…
Σ κ υ λ α ρ
It’s my name. It says Skylar!
“Parker,” I say, and my breath catches in my throat.
“I can explain,” he starts, sitting up quickly, but I cut him off.
“Is this my name?” I ask breathlessly.
“I can explain,” he tries again.
“Does this say my name?” I ask more forcefully.
He nods.
He tattooed my name on his body!
I don’t even know how to react to this. We’ve been back together for twenty-four hours and this tattoo is not fresh. He’s had it a while.
“When did you get it?”
He looks embarrassed. “Last year,” he confesses, and I can see by the look on his face that he’s worried this is too much for me. And it is, kind of. He has a tattoo of my name on his body and he got it last year!
“Last year, when?” I ask, taking his hand into mine. I want him to see that I’m not going to take off running because of this, but I do want to know about it.
“Right after what happened on the beach,” he replies, seeming to have relaxed a bit now that I’ve taken his hand, but not entirely. I watch him anticipate my response uneasily; searching my eyes for a sign of what it is I’m thinking.
But I don’t say what I’m thinking. I honestly don’t even know what to think.
“Are you freaked out?” he asks finally.
“A little,” I say, but it’s not entirely true. I’m not as freaked out as I know I should be. This should be a red flag for me. The feelings he has for me are incredibly intense, they always have been, and yet all I am actually thinking is that I’m flattered by it. I love that he needs me this much. He desires me so deeply that he doesn’t even think twice about putting my name on his body forever. It’s completely crazy! And yet, I trust it.
“I wanted to tell you. It’s just that every time I thought about what I should say, it always sounded crazy. I mean, how do you tell someone who’s petrified of everything you are, that you think she’s your only reason for living?”
M
y heart immediately feels like it skips a beat. He loves me too much, way more than I deserve. “It probably didn’t help that I was off with someone else,” I say, lowering my head in shame. Knowing everything I know now about what he went through after I ran away that night on the beach, my decision to push him away so carelessly and be with Bree instead makes me feel like a heartless bitch. Being scared of what happened that night just doesn’t seem like a good enough reason anymore.
“Did you love her?” he asks, running his fingers along the recent cuts I made last night, somehow seeming to know that they are because of Bree.
“Not like I love you.”
I see the comfort those words give him in his body language even though he does well not to show it in his facial expression. He continues to run his fingers over my other scars, gingerly following them down my arm, then to my side, onto my breasts, down my stomach, and over my belly button.
When his hand finally reaches my thigh, I push myself in closer to him so that his hand rests opened and firmly on the inside of my thigh. The minute I do this, his eyes become consumed with a desire that he can no longer contain.
In a brisk movement, he grasps my hair behind my head and slams his lips onto mine. I fall backward, but he instantly has his other arm behind my back. He cradles my body to his, as he half picks me up and moves me to the other end of the Jacuzzi. Water splashes everywhere and in all directions but he ignores the mess and continues to kiss me with an all-consuming need.
He lifts me up out of the water and sits me on the side of the tub against the wall. With his muscular arms on either side of my head pushing onto the wall, he leans his mouth into mine and kisses me more softly this time, but still with a desire he’s having a hard time containing. I let out a moan and tilt my head back. He lowers his lips to my neck and kisses it softly.
I want nothing more than to have him finally inside of me right now, but I know that we need protection first. And as much as I’d like to ignore Cecelia’s annoying voice echoing in my head, ‘You can actually get pregnant with this one’, I just can’t.
“We need a condom,” I finally manage the instant he places his mouth on one of my nipples. I gasp at the intense feeling it gives me.
Parker pulls away and nods, sitting upright slowly. “You’re right,” he says. Then, in one quick swoop he has me up in his arms. With his hands on my ass and my legs wrapped around his waist, he carries me out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom.
He climbs onto the bed, still holding me close to his body. He’s kissing my bare skin with those beautiful full lips of his that I can never get enough of, as he lowers me onto the bed gently. Everything he does makes me feel loved and needed.
I look up into his eyes and I can’t believe this is actually happening between us right now. Sober, in his bed, in his life. Unbelievable.
I see so much want in those mesmerizing eyes as he slows his wandering hands for a moment in order to focus on the gaze he has on me. He doesn’t say anything, but I know that he’s looking for a certainty that I, in fact, want this. I do want this. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this right now.
I nod and the instant that I do, he slams his mouth onto mine once again, showing me how much he wants it too.
After a few minutes of some seriously hardcore kissing and hand exploring, he pulls us apart and runs his fingers through my hair. “Hey you,” he whispers with a little half smile.
“Hey you,” I say back with a giggle.
I watch him saunter casually over to his dresser across the room. His muscles flexed, his ass so tight and gorgeous I just want to grab it. God, I can’t get enough of him!
He pulls out a condom from the top drawer and tosses it to me before strolling back over to the bed.
“I want to put it on you,” I say.
He shoots me a devilish smile, “Sure.”
I push him on his back and climb on top of him, straddling his thighs. He puts his hands behind his head and watches me as I rip the foil package with my teeth.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says as I put the condom on him.
I lean over and whisper into his ear, “Make love to me, Parker Michelson,” I say.
He grabs me with both hands on my hips and flips me over so abruptly that my back is now on the bed and he’s over top of me before I even have a chance to blink. He enters me with one quick thrust, and I gasp.
Damn, it feels good! I want him; all of him, everything this body and soul can offer me. I want it all.
He begins moving in a slow but steady rhythm as he explores every ounce of my body with his lips and hands. It feels so good. He kisses my neck, my earlobes, and my lips. Oh, does he ever kiss my lips! I can’t help but moan over and over again, each and every time I feel his lips on my skin. They are unbelievably soft and smooth in spite of his rugged demeanor, and I can’t resist them.
I start to move my hips with his, mimicking his rhythm. He lets out a low groan and without separating ourselves from one another, takes me by the waist and rolls himself on the bottom placing me now on top.
My eyes dart around the room uncertainly. I’m feeling a bit self-conscious because as many times as I’ve had sex with other men, I’ve never once been on top and in control of the situation. This is unfamiliar to me and it has me very nervous.
Parker must sense my uneasiness, though, because he carefully slides his hands from my waist down to my thighs, and helps me move our bodies in the same rhythmic motion we had just been doing moments earlier.
I lean down so that my body is now lying on top of his, but I don’t stop moving. I keep the rhythm steady, beginning to feel the sensation of an orgasm approaching. My breathing gets heavier as I move back and forth, and the sound of my panting makes his entire body react.
He moans loudly, taking his hands from my thighs and sliding them all the way up my body till he reaches my hands. He intertwines our fingers together and positions our arms up over our heads pointing at his headboard. He kisses me on my lips, smoothly, softly, and romantically. He kisses my top lip and then my bottom one. He kisses my cheeks, and my forehead. Then, just as he’s about to kiss my lips again, his eyes close and he lays his head back into the pillow. His breathing becomes broken and labored; I can tell he’s unable to hold in his orgasm much longer, and to be honest, neither am I. I move faster as I watch his face contort into that look of tortured pleasure and then… he begins to shudder. I close my eyes and allow my orgasm to take me over as well.
I slow my rhythm until I stop moving completely, and with him still inside of me, we lie there together in an almost exhausted state. Our chests are both heaving as I listen to his heart pounding into my ear, letting the fast and steady beats remind me of how excited I can make him. I love that I can do that to him so effortlessly. His desire for me is undeniable. He needs and wants me in equal measure, a combination I’ve never once experienced with Bree.
Parker sighs happily and wraps his arms around me as he kisses the top of my head. It’s as if he’s thanking me for loving him back finally, after all of this time. The gesture makes me want to melt. This guy couldn’t get any more perfect even if he tried.
“I’ve never done that before,” I say to him breathlessly, lifting my head up to look him in the eye.
He smiles, his left eyebrow rising slightly. “You did great,” he says with a chuckle.
He doesn’t ask why I’ve never been on top before, or even tells me why it is he decided to switch me to that position, but I know it’s just another example of how much he knows me even better than I know myself. He knew I needed that control. Nobody has ever given me that control before. Having it with Parker felt liberating and in a way, it made me feel even closer to him.
“I don’t want to move you, baby, but I have to,” he says, and I knowingly get up off of him and roll onto the bed. He removes the condom and walks over to the bathroom with it. When he returns, he doesn’t put his clothes back on, instead, he crawls into the
bed next to me and holds my body close to his, as if he’s a child and I’m his security blanket.
“I like how our bare skin feels next to each other,” he says.
“Me too,” I reply with a dreamy sigh. I close my eyes and take comfort in his warmth, drifting off into a peaceful sleep for the rest of the night.
Bree
When I awake the next morning my bedroom door is still wide open, the way my mom forced me to keep it, but I don’t hear anyone walking around downstairs. I reach for my phone sitting on the bedside table to see if Evan sent me a text. I had turned the volume down after my mom went back to bed just in case he would text me, because the last thing I needed was to lose my phone on top of being forbade to ever see my boyfriend again.
My mother is such a drama queen.
Evan: Coming to pick u up. Your mom gone?
Crap!
I look at the time and see that it’s nearly eight AM. I check the time that he sent the text. Five minutes ago! I toss the phone on the bed, scurry out of my room, and run down the hallway to my parent’s room.
No one’s there.
“Mom, dad, you guys still home? I slept in,” I call out.
After a few moments with no reply, I walk back to my room and pick the phone up from the bed.
Me: Coast is clear. Running late… be down in 5.
I hurry to the bathroom so I can quickly splash my face with water, brush my teeth, pull my hair back into a messy knot, and put on a dab of lip-gloss. A minute later I’m back in my room choosing the first outfit I find in my closet and putting it on. I have no time to worry about how I look this morning. Hopefully, Evan won’t notice just how little of an effort I took in making myself ‘pretty’ because that would seriously suck.
Keep From Falling (Markson Grove Series Book 1) Page 31
