My heart skips, and I freeze. I’ve never done that before—I’ve never eaten a woman out. I’ve never had any desire to.
But then, I’ve never had a desire to do any of this until she came along.
Swallowing down a pathetic surge of apprehension, I breathe in her scent, heady and feminine, emanating potent desire. It spurs me. My cock thickens with need, with an intrinsic yearning to taste her. Another growl erupts, something absolutely virile, and I crook my fingers under the strip of lace, sweeping it down her legs until she’s bare and exposed.
Melody spreads her knees as she leans back against the car hood, a lusty gasp escaping her. She sifts her hands through my hair, urging me close. Demanding I feast. “Please, Parker…”
Fuck.
It’s all I need.
My tongue flicks out, teasing and tasting. Once, twice. Again. She squirms atop the vehicle, a mess of desperation. “More,” she begs.
She’s soaking wet, pulsing and achy. Her hips arch up from the hood, seeking my mouth. A smile curves, a feeling of masculine pride washing over me, of power, and I hook her legs over my shoulders and lift her hips until my face is buried between her thighs.
“Ohh…” she moans, writhing beneath me, digging her nails into my scalp.
My own groan mingles with hers as my mouth devours her, my tongue licking and sucking, thrusting inside, then working her clit until she shudders with fierce vibrations.
I fucking love it. I love the way she tastes, the way she reacts to me.
One hand clings to her outer thigh to hold her in place, while the other goes rogue, coasting up her body as her back bows and slipping beneath her halter to palm her breasts.
“Parker, God…”
The way she says my name nearly wrecks me. Lifting my head from her wetness, I grit out, “Fuck, you taste like…”
“What?” she pants, raising up for more contact.
My hand releases her thigh to fumble with my belt buckle, unfastening my jeans until they’re pooled around my ankles with my boxers. I grab my cock and start to stroke before I dive back in. “Like the fucking end of me.”
She arches up when my tongue licks her, bottom to top, and I jerk myself while I work her to orgasm with my mouth.
Moans, squeals, whimpers, gasps.
It’s not long before her thighs are quivering over my shoulders, and her hands are desperately tugging at my hair as her body breaks and crumbles.
Melody comes hard on my tongue, crying out beneath the starry sky, and before she even takes a breath of recovery, I’m yanking her down the hood until I’m situated at her entrance, inching inside. “I need to fill you. Feel you.” I kiss her, hard and punishing. Claiming. “Tell me you want me.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I want you. So much.”
Pushing inside with a rough groan, I collapse over her, finding her mouth again and thrusting deep. My hand slides up to the back of her head, protecting her from the windshield as I drive into her, my hips jerking clumsily, already feeling myself becoming unhinged. She’s ruining me and putting me back together at the same time.
Melody squeaks and mewls as I fuck her on the hood of her Camry, both of us still half-clothed but stripped down in every other way. I raise my head to find her eyes sparkling with starlight, and our noses kiss, our foreheads knocking as I cup the base of her skull in my palm with tenderness, yet rail her with punishing strokes.
“I…” My voice fades away, and I’m not even sure what the fuck I was going to say. Probably something mushy and pussy-whipped. Her eyes are pulling these feelings out of me, these deep-seated, complicated emotions, and my mouth is itching to purge them with words.
“What?” Melody clasps my face between her hands, a gentle coaxing. “Tell me.”
My hips thrust harder to override the sentimental waves coursing through me. “I love the way you feel around my cock.”
That was absolutely not what I was going to say, but it works.
She melts, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around my neck, linking her wrists at the nape. I bury my face into the curve of her shoulder and lose myself in her warmth, her softness, her irresistible delicacy, and when I come, it’s shattering.
I’m shattered.
My walls, my barriers, the remnants of my armor.
I’m hers.
As I come down from the high, I hold her, scooping her up and cradling her like a lost lover beneath the dusky moonlight.
In this moment, nothing else matters.
In this moment, everything matters.
I feel everything.
A blessing and a curse, and inevitably, my undoing.
As our ragged breaths steady and our heartbeats settle, I pull up from her embrace to smooth back her hair and find her eyes. A lump forms in my throat when I note the vulnerability swimming in her depths of bright green.
This is new for me, but it’s new for her, too.
We are both two broken souls, fractured in opposite ways.
She loved and lost…
And I was lost before I could ever love at all.
But here we are, pulled together by forces unseen and unexplained, clutching each other underneath an August sky, soaked in sweat and heady truths.
Releasing a shuddering breath, I lean in to press a kiss against her welcoming mouth. “Thank you,” I whisper, my hands curling around her waist.
Melody flicks her nose with mine. An Eskimo kiss. “For what?”
“For not giving up on me.”
The pads of her fingertips slide down my jaw, skimming the coarse bristles, and the look in her eyes is full of affection and warmth.
It makes me feel wanted.
It makes me feel alive.
It makes me feel… petrified.
Because I know, deep down, one day… she will.
—THIRTY—
It’s my birthday.
I’m twenty-nine years old today, and I almost didn’t make it to this day. The thought alone is an extra reason to celebrate. Tendrils of morning sunlight permeate the glass, a golden reminder of everything I’m fortunate enough to wake up to today, and every day. Even the birds in flight outside the window seize my attention, causing my heart to flutter in time with their vibrant wings. Little starting points.
Bringing the triple-shot iced coffee to my lips, my cell phone vibrates on the café table while Leah sits across from me, scarfing down a breakfast sandwich.
Parker.
My smile is immediate when his name meets my highly caffeinated eyes.
Parker: Happy Birthday.
Leah addresses me with a mouthful of food, her crumbs dispersing all over the high-top. She’s one of those flawless beauties who can get away with eating like a total savage and still look cute. “Is it him?”
“Yes,” I reply through a widening grin.
It’s been two weeks since I showed up at Parker’s house unannounced, and we had hot sex on the hood of my car in the middle of his driveway, officially consummating this… well, whatever this is. Parker doesn’t really do titles.
Whatever it is, it seems to have swallowed me whole, and I’m just kind of floating through life right now with a goofy grin and spazzy heart.
I send him a reply.
Me: Thank you :)
Parker: You busy tonight? I have your present.
My chest warms. I wasn’t expecting much from Parker, and not because I don’t think he cares or is incapable—I just figured he was so new at this, he wouldn’t know what to do. Besides, the truth is, we still don’t even know each other all that well. He doesn’t know my favorite color, my favorite coffee flavor or television show, my shoe size, my taste in literature, or my quirky fascination with house plants.
He doesn’t know that I haven’t been able to eat or even look at peaches since last April.
Gnawing at my lip, I shoot back:
Me: I’m having dinner with my family at 5pm, but I can probably skip out around 7pm :)
Parker: Oka
y. Meet me at the lake at 7:30.
The lake?
My curiosity piques, sending a tingle of anticipation up my spine.
Leah licks the grease from her fingers as she swallows down a bite. “Are sexy birthday plans commencing?” she wonders with an eyebrow waggle.
I close my phone and return my fidgety hands to the plastic coffee cup. “Possibly. He said to meet him at the lake tonight.”
“Ooh. Skinny dipping.”
“Definitely not.”
“Fishing?” Her thumb plummets in a downward motion.
“Also, no.”
“Maybe a romantic, beachside dinner?”
That doesn’t sound like Parker, either, but my shoulders shrug at the suggestion. “Whatever it is, I’m excited. Just the idea that he has something planned for me is sweet and thoughtful.”
Smiling reflectively, Leah softens, propping her elbows to the tabletop and spearing me with her shimmering copper eyes. She flicks a loose strand of blue-black hair from her face. “This guy is pretty special, huh?”
My cheeks stain with blush.
God, yes.
I’m not sure what it is, but there’s been a draw from the very start. A tether. His frosty disposition and crass words weren’t enough to deviate me from the crackle in the air every time he’d glance my way with his penetrative green eyes.
Every time our skin would brush, I’d feel it. Every time he’d say my name, I’d feel it.
Some things can’t be explained. Some things just are.
We straddle the line between magic and mayhem with every look, every touch, every white-hot kiss.
Tightening my grip on the latte, I reply with a nod. “I really like him, Leah, and that scares me. My heart has never felt more vulnerable.”
“I think that’s the key to happiness, though, don’t you think?” Her tongue slicks along her upper lip with consideration. “If we never let our guard down, no one would ever be able to reach us.”
My thoughts drift to Parker with his steel walls and heavy armor. He never let anyone in, and his heart had become a hardened shell. He thrived on loneliness, on misery.
Maybe Leah’s right. Vulnerability is a risk, but the reward is so much greater.
I inhale a prolonged breath, soaking up her words as I sip my beverage. “He’s different… he’s different from Charlie,” I admit. “West doesn’t like him.”
Leah’s eyes roll up. “Forget West. He’s just butthurt that you didn’t go for Shane, so you could all go out for beer-infused, sports-centered group dates. His opinion is irrelevant.”
A snicker escapes me. “So, you’re Team Parker?”
“Girl, I’m Team Melody. Always have been, always will be.”
Love churns between us as we share a smile—the kind of love that’s rare and infinite. We’ve had each other’s backs from day one, and her unwavering support of me has never waned or teetered. She’s the most unselfish person I know. “You know I love you, right? I don’t tell you that enough,” I murmur, my words spilling from the purest place.
Leah crinkles her button nose at me, taking a sip of her espresso before replying. “You don’t need to tell me, babygirl,” she says with a wink. Her unnaturally long eyelashes flutter with warmth. “The loudest love is wordless.”
It’s been the perfect day.
Coffee and chitchat with my best friend, a mini-spa day in which I indulged in a facial and hot stone massage, some bonding time with Nutmeg as I let the curious hamster explore the guest bedroom, and then dinner with West and my parents, featuring my favorite meal: Mexican lasagna, Spanish rice, a southwest salad, and spicy cornbread rolls. Mom makes everything from scratch, including the rich sheaths of pasta, and it’s a meal I look forward to every single year.
Normally, I’d be dying on the couch from a carb coma at this point, playing Yahtzee with my family and trying to keep my overly competitive brother from throwing the dice across the room, but tonight the celebration is cut short when the clock strikes seven.
I have another celebration waiting for me.
Saying my heartfelt goodbyes, I practically race out the door, shooting Parker a quick text as I hop into my car.
Me: On the way :)
He responds instantly.
Parker: I’m here.
My heart thunders beneath my ribs, firing its curious beats. His blasé messages leave me with little indication of what he has planned, but that doesn’t stop my mind from hashing out every potential scenario as I make the fifteen-minute drive over to the lake.
I think back over the last two weeks, wondering if he left me any clues. Any breadcrumbs. We’ve only seen each other a handful of times due to his chaotic work schedule, but when we did…
Oof.
Tingles spark to life as flickering flames, igniting low in my belly and spreading through me like a forest fire. Parker brings such passion to our sexual encounters, such heat. I never expected that side of him—the raw hunger and need. The desire to claim me in any way he can, to devour me, to possess me, body and soul.
The words he says, the way he holds me.
It’s intoxicating.
That, combined with our undeniable chemistry, is a lethal elixir that has me equally frightened and thirsty for more.
When I pull into the familiar parking lot, I spot his truck first, sitting idle in the otherwise empty lot. My heartrate picks up speed, nearly choking me as I slide into the spot beside him and rein in a steadying breath.
Then I slip from the driver’s side and pace around his truck, which was hindering my view, and my limbs go still, my flip-flops sticking to the cement like putty.
Parker is perched in the sand a few feet away, sitting atop a checkered blanket. Walden rests beside him with his chin tucked between two bony paws, his furry head only poking up when he spots me across the beach.
Swallowing, I move in closer. Parker is leaning back on his palms, legs outstretched with something resting between them. I squint my eyes through the hazy setting sun.
A… violin?
My mouth goes as dry as the sand beneath my feet when I inch towards them. “Parker?”
A small smile lifts his lips, and Parker straightens on the blanket, reaching for the instrument between his knees. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I croak out, stopping my feet at the edge of the checkered spread. My eyes meet his, swimming with glimmering nerves. Green, jittery flecks. “You… you play the violin?”
Parker clears his throat, palming the neck of the instrument, glazed with a cherrywood varnish. He fingers the adjacent bow with his opposite hand. “I half-ass learned one song, but it’s not good. Fair warning.” His eyes close for a moment, chest puffing with a heavy breath. “I didn’t know what to get you for your birthday. I’ve never had to think about shit like this before, so my mind was racing with what you might like… books, clothes, girly house stuff. No fucking clue. I thought maybe I didn’t know you well enough to get you something worthwhile. Something you’d actually enjoy and appreciate.
“Then I realized: I do fucking know you, Melody. I know the deep, important shit, like the way your eyes light up when you’re dancing in the freezing lake singing God-awful eighties songs, and that you cry when you hear violins play, and that your mom would make you peanut butter and banana sandwiches whenever you were sad, and all the little things that keep you waking up each morning, living and breathing. I know your starting points.”
Tears trickle down my cheeks, pooling at my jaw, and I stare at him, dumbfounded.
Star-struck and bewitched.
Parker continues. “So, I built you this violin. It’s a little shoddy—not my best work because violins are kind of a bitch to hand carve, but… it plays.” Pausing, he reaches for his cell phone lying beside his right knee and scrolls his finger over the screen until a music app opens. His gaze connects with mine before he taps the song. “Dancing in the lake, the song, Unchained Melody, the sound of violins, peanut butter and banana sandwiches, August…�
� He waves his arm out, as if gesturing to the current month. “Sandwiches are in my bag.”
I don’t even remember moving, but suddenly, I’m kneeling in front of him in the sand, holding a heart-rending sob in the back of my throat. Walden perks up to sniff me, and I trail my fingers through his soft fur before returning my attention to the man who is stealing my heart.
Although… he can’t steal what was already his.
I’m blurry-eyed and sniffling as I watch him in wonderment, realizing how much he truly heard in those meetings. Even on the days I thought he was sleeping, he was silently listening. He was listening to me, noticing me. Absorbing.
Parker etched my words and purest memories inside of him, carrying them around until they outweighed his darkness. I’ve been a part of him for all this time.
My voice quakes as I lick the tears from my lips. “This is the most amazing gift. Parker, I… I’m speechless.”
“You’re about to be deaf in a minute. I’m telling you, this won’t be good. It took hours of YouTube videos to figure out what these damn strings even do.”
Laughter sneaks into the cry that escapes me. “I can’t believe you did all this…”
He taps his phone screen back on, then hovers his index finger over the song selection. A smile of apprehension greets me as he swallows hard. “Fuck, okay… ready?”
I nod eagerly.
Parker presses play, and my favorite song floats through the speaker: Unchained Melody. My heart feels like it’s weeping from only the first note, and then it falls apart, a quivering mess, the moment Parker places the bow along the four strings.
The instrument sings to life, so entirely out of tune and off-key, my tears fall harder. Parker chuckles through his blunders, shaking his head as he misses almost every note, but that only makes it sweeter.
More perfect.
Zephyr’s words flash through my mind as the strings assault me with preciously flawed melodies: Perfection is an illusion.
The Wrong Heart Page 27
