Found in Us

by Layla Hagen

  So he’s loyal, and a fierce lover. All very valuable qualities in my book.

  "Jessica, if Parker trusts you, don't prove him wrong. Too many have."

  “You have nothing to worry about.”

  She nods, smiling. “Okay. I’ll leave you now. I have to make a phone call for work. It might take a while. You’ll be okay on your own?”

  “Are you kidding? I want to explore every inch of this castle. Ah...any parts where I’m not supposed to poke my nose?”

  “No secrets. Go wild.”

  After she leaves, I finish my breakfast at top speed, then go exploring.

  This place is the bomb, I swear. Why are they not turning it into a museum? Half of it at least. But even though everything around me is fascinating, Parker is on my mind constantly.

  Chapter Eleven

  Parker

  "I suck at golf," Tara says, glancing after her ball, which lands about fifty yards short. "Royally."

  "You just need more practice."

  "Yeah . . . more practice at convincing you to drop this sport, Parker. It bores the hell out of me. I can't believe you're doing it every Saturday."

  "It's a good way to clear my head, and also a very good excuse to conduct business talks under the disguise of a friendly game."

  She waves her hand dismissively. "There's no one here to have business talks with, so let's call it a day. I want to grab a lemonade before we go, though."

  We head to the bar area inside the club building and I order a coffee and a lemonade.

  After a few sips, she asks, "What's the deal with Jessica?"

  I spit coffee. "What about her?"

  "Oh, come on, Parker. You were looking at her last night like you wanted to mount her right there in the living room."

  "Right."

  "Helen thinks so, too."

  "Then it must be true, no doubt."

  I've known both Tara and Helen since we were kids. Somehow that gives them the impression they can offer their opinion freely about every aspect of my life. I respect both of them. They’ve both decided to make it on their own, even though they come from money. But my private life is... private.

  Tara's eyes widen. "Oh my God, you slept with her."

  "So what if I did?" I challenge.

  She beams. "That's fantastic. Jessica is exactly the type of woman you need."

  I briefly consider cutting this conversation short. But if I'm honest, I'm curious as to what she has to say. "Please explain."

  "She is fun, you know. Loose. You need a little shaking up, Parker."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "I did study psychology, you know. You can't keep doing things the way you do them now. You compartmentalize everything, Parker."

  "What's wrong with compartmentalizing? It's simple. You know me, I don't like complicated."

  "It's not healthy. You need someone to share every part of your life with. You have to let someone in."

  "You already know my view on that," I reply. Letting people near you gives them a chance to stab you in the back when you least expect it.

  "You've been alone long enough," Tara says, undeterred. "Jessica might be just the right person to change that."

  “I want to do things... differently with her. But I don’t even know if I can.”

  “It’s important that you want to. I knew something was up when you asked if you could bring her too. You’ve never invited anyone.”

  "She had some troubles at work and was upset. I thought she needed a distraction."

  "You care about her.”

  I nod slowly. Tara claps her hands. “This is excellent.”

  “Or risky.”

  “But it’ll be worth it.”

  The jury is still out on that, but I find myself hoping Tara is right. She often is. It's been like that for as long as I can remember. Since we were teens. Tara and Helen needed someone to protect them when they got into the kind of trouble you don't ask your parents to get you out of. Well, Helen more than Tara. As far as group dynamics go, Tara was the good girl. But Helen and I did enough bullshit to even the balance. Especially me.

  I want her to be right. This thing with Jessica goes far beyond physical attraction, and I find myself out of my depths.

  ***

  Jessica

  When I finish the exploration of the castle, I head back to the foyer and find that Parker and Tara have returned. They’re taking off their coats. I don't know why, but I was imagining Parker and Tara to be wearing some sort of ridiculous golf outfits. Would've made for a good laugh, but they are dressed disappointingly normal. Still, the sight of Parker—a thin sheet of sweat covering his forehead—momentarily cuts my breath short. He really is something to look at. I blush when I see him rearranging the collar of his sweater with his fingers, remembering everything he did to me last night with those same fingers.

  Parker's head snaps in my direction, and the fervor I recognize in his blue eyes sends shivers rippling through me. I bite my lip, looking away. Dani enters the house a few seconds later.

  "You're awake," Dani says to me, grinning.

  "By the looks of it, also fully fed," Parker says. I lift my hand to my mouth, and discover that I have some food remnants at the corners of my mouth. I wipe it away the best I can, and then grin.

  "Nothing worse than starting the day hungry," I say.

  "I agree," Tara announces. "Which is why I'm planning to eat an entire cow next. I didn't have any breakfast."

  "I'll join you," Dani says.

  "Hey," Parker calls, just as the two head to the kitchen, "I thought we were heading out for a hike."

  Dani snickers. "No, Parker. You suggested that, and Tara and I pretended not to hear you. I am so not hiking."

  Parker stares from Tara to Dani as if they just declared open war on him. He recovers and then shouts, "Helen, what about you?"

  Helen's voice resonates from the living room. "Sorry. I want to be a hermit this weekend."

  Parker raises his hands in exasperation. Then his eyes meet mine, and I have a sinking feeling that he's not going to spare me the question. "How about you, Jess?"

  "Umm . . ." I say, glancing at Dani and Tara, hoping to get them to back me up. But they're both laughing.

  "Take my jumper if you go," Tara says, pointing to a sweater on the hanger. "It's chilly outside, even if it’s almost August."

  I look at Parker. "How long is that hike?"

  "Depends how fast we are. But it's beautiful there. It's . . ." I don't hear the rest of the sentence as the expression on his face mystifies me. It's like he's suddenly a few years younger, an innocent enthusiasm emanating from every line on his face. I've never seen him like this.

  “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll walk with you to the lake, if we go into town first. I’ve googled Worcester just now, and I’m not leaving here without exploring it too.”

  Tara whistles loudly. “Parker, you’re in big trouble.”

  He offers me a cocky grin, but I fold my arms over my chest, holding my own. Yes, sir, I can negotiate.

  “Sure, let’s go into town first.”

  We take the car into town, and I press my nose to the window as I try to soak it all in.

  “This looks like one of those towns you see in British crime shows. Quaint, quirky.”

  “Well, it’s somewhat bigger. Population—“

  “One hundred thousand. I know. I looked it up.”

  “What do you want to see?”

  “The cathedral. And I want to buy some gloves. Heard the city was famous for its glove industry once.”

  “You definitely do your research.”

  I smile, excited as he pulls the car into an empty spot. I can see the cathedral from here.

  The Worcester cathedral was built in a typical Anglican style, and it’s majestic. Next, I buy my gloves, and then I insist on a stop by the statue of the composer Edward Elgar.

  “Man, they got his moustache right,” I say, asking Parker to take a picture of me
as I stand next to the statue. Then he surprises me by stepping by my side and taking a selfie of both of us.

  Next stop: Friar Street. We walk leisurely on the cobblestones. A-frame houses with dark rooftops, white, timber-framed facades are intermingled with red brick buildings. From my vantage point, some of the buildings appear crooked.

  “What?” Parker asks.

  “This looks a bit like Diagon Alley, don’t you think?”

  Parker grins. “I thought Serena was the nerd.”

  “Ouch. Knowing stuff about Harry Potter doesn’t make me a nerd. It’s pop culture by now. Hmmm, I think I’m done now. I just want to buy a bottle of Worcestershire sauce.”

  “Why? You can buy it in every store.”

  “Yes, but then I can say I have one from its hometown. I’m weird, I know.”

  “You’re not weird. You’re just...you. Let’s go get your sauce.”

  Half an hour later, we’re back in the car, and Parker drives us toward the nearby forest where we will hike.

  He’s well prepared, with a backpack in the trunk. I’m not much of a hiker, but this area is beautiful, and not crowded. We walk up on a hill.

  "Can we rest for a few minutes?" I ask halfway through, almost out of breath, even though it’s not steep. I’m just out of practice.

  Parker chuckles. "It'll get harder if we stop altogether."

  “Okay, come on, Jess. You can do this.”

  When we finally finish climbing and reach the top, the view takes my breath. We’ve reached a waterfall. Water runs over big boulders, but there is also greenery in between.

  "You should go to the gym or something," Parker says.

  "I work out," I protest. "I run from the couch to the fridge at least fifteen times every evening."

  Parker bursts out laughing, shaking his head. "I think that's the definition of a couch potato."

  "I prefer couch tomato. Rhymes with potato, but sounds a lot sexier."

  "If you say so," Parker says between guffaws, extracting one small blanket from the backpack, which makes me realize...

  "That blanket is only big enough for two.”

  "Exactly."

  "So what if Dani, Helen, or Tara wanted to come too?"

  "You're observant," Parker says. "I knew they wouldn't come. It's you I wanted to bring here."

  "Why did you ask them, then?"

  "So you'd feel bad for me when neither of them wanted to come." He grins. "I had a hunch that the odds of convincing you to come on a hike were somewhere below zero otherwise."

  "Ah, so throwing in a bit of guilt. Clever." He interlaces his fingers with mine. Not for the first time, I have the strong feeling that Parker is a man who's used to getting what he wants, no matter what.

  We walk away from the waterfall, toward an even stretch of land where Parker assures me we’ll be comfortable. The terrain is rocky where we are now, but it looks softer in the distance.

  Still heated from the climb, I take off my jacket and sweater, remaining in my white cotton shirt. I do my best to be careful where I step. Just when I'm about to congratulate myself that I didn’t lose my balance, my left foot gets stuck between two rocks. In an attempt to wiggle it free, I do exactly that: lose my balance and fall straight into the mud. Cursing, I get up. Parker helps me, sounding half-concerned, half-amused when he asks, "Are you all right?"

  "Yeah, just made a mess of my T-shirt." I pull at the hem, so I can assess the damage better. "Well, if you ever had a fantasy of mud wrestling, I'm on my way to fulfilling half that fantasy."

  Parker's eyes widen and then laughter bubbles out of his chest.

  "I'd jump around, trying to imitate someone wrestling," I say, "but I might just break my neck."

  "I liked this about you since the first time I met you," he says when we reach the place he’d indicated before.

  "What? My ability to trip over anything?"

  "No, your ability to turn everything into something positive." He spreads the blanket on the patch of flat rocks.

  "I don't do that."

  Parker sits on the blanket and beckons me to sit next to him. I climb in his lap instead.

  "Yes, you do. I remember someone made good use of the cast on her broken leg by painting the flag of England and Prince Harry's portrait on it."

  "Well, that was because I was bored. But I did think it was an excellent opportunity to show everyone just how much I wanted to move here," I admit. "And showcase my spectacular painting skills."

  Parker considers my words. "The flag looked like a flag, all right. But Harry looked like he belonged in a Star Trek movie."

  I gasp, feigning to be offended. "Now I know how Picasso felt when he was shunned. Future generations will know better.”

  "Come on," he says with a smile, "put your jacket on or you'll get sick."

  "Ah, not impressed by my impersonation of a wrestling chick, I see," I say, but put the jacket on because I already feel cold. "So, tell me, what's so special about this place? My legs are sore." I turn around, facing the waterfall.

  Instead of answering, he nuzzles my neck, flattening his chest against my back. My body responds at once to his proximity, my skin flaring up under his lips. I lean my head on his shoulder, giving him free access to devour me with his lips. This feels pretty damn special all in itself.

  "I have to admit I'm a bit sore myself," Parker says after a while. "Haven't done this hike in ages."

  "You used to come here often?"

  "When I was a kid, even a teenager, I visited Helen a lot. I discovered this place when I was about eight."

  "And you managed to blackmail someone to come with you every time? Impressive."

  "I didn't. I never wanted anyone to come here. That's actually why I returned here so often. It was so far away that no one ever came here to bother me."

  "You came here on your own?" I ask, stricken. "To do what?"

  "Think, read . . . work when I got older. Get some peace."

  But it's so lonely here, I want to say. Then I remember Helen's words. Parker doesn't trust many people. Those around him haven't proved to be very trustworthy.

  A chill passes through me as I recall what Dani said. Parker's dad died when he was seven. That's old enough to acknowledge it... and young enough to be irreparably hurt by the loss. How come he was able to go away on his own for hours at a time to come here when he was eight? Wasn't his mom, or any other adult, supervising him? Forget supervising him—just being with him, comforting him. Loving him.

  I'm certain he needed that. So why was he on his own instead, and miles away from any adult? Not all parents are warm and loving; my dad showed me that. Still, I can't imagine any mother not wanting to be permanently at her child’s side after such a tragedy.

  The image of an eight-year-old boy running on these boulders, where it's so easy to slip and get hurt, appears in my mind. A boy spending hours alone. A sudden urge overwhelms me, to hug that little boy and tell him he's not alone, and that his mother loves him, though it may not seem like it.

  "Is there a story behind your tattoo? You tensed last night when I talked about it.”

  “I’m... I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

  “But we will talk about it, eventually.”

  “You’re quite demanding, mystery man.”

  With one swing, he turns me in his lap so that I'm facing him. Looking me straight in the eyes, he says, "I never do things half-heartedly. Honestly, I don't know where this will lead. But if we spend more time together"—he grabs my chin, bringing my lips inches closer to his—"I want us to try and be open with each other. It’s not easy for me, and by the looks of it, it isn’t easy for you either, but I want you to promise we’ll try.”

  “Okay, I promise. But... we’ll take it slow?”

  “We’ll take it slow.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, then cups my cheek in a gesture so tender and loving that it fills every part of me with a warmth I've never felt before. He starts kissing my neck, pull
ing me tighter in his lap. I feel the bulge in his jeans against my groin.

  “I know something at which we’re not slow.”

  "Sex on the rocks?" I ask. "Well, I've had whiskey on the rocks, screwdrivers, and a bunch of other drinks on the rocks, but never sex."

  "Time to change that, don't you think? No one will see us here."

  In reply, I lean forward and kiss him hard, tugging at his lower lip with my teeth. And as Parker's fingers find their way under my shirt, twisting my hardened nipples, I realize he already opened up a bit. He brought me here, to this place that was his and his alone. He’s already shared a piece of him with me.

  Parker gently lays me on my back, takes off the jacket and unzips my shirt slowly, then unfastens my bra. After leaving me topless, runs his tongue on the valley between my breasts, then takes one of my nipples between his lips, doing exquisite things to it.

  "I want you, Jessica," Parker grits out, his hands pulling down my pants and underwear. His tongue lashes against my nipples, and I arch my back as the heat spreading from the place where his tongue worships my breasts meets the wind, causing my body to shudder. Then he lowers his mouth to my exposed folds. Pleasure sears through me as his tongue caresses my sleek parts. He doesn't break eye contact, which makes the view of him between my thighs about a million times hotter.

  I throw my head back when his tongue darts inside me and he starts flicking his thumb over my clit.

  "This is so good," I say between breaths, closing my eyes.

  "Open your eyes," he commands.

  I obey, writhing as his tongue expertly licks my inner flesh.

  "I want you to come all over me, Jessica," he murmurs. I wantonly buck my hips against his lips and finger.

  "Parker," I cry, fighting to keep looking him straight in the eyes as impulses sizzle through me. I thrash and lose my breath as the orgasm carries me to unexplored heights of pleasure.

  Parker unhitches his lips from my center, and then claims my mouth. I can taste myself on him, and it's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever done. I pull his shirt over his head, revealing the rows of defined, toned muscles. In the dim light of the bedroom yesterday, I couldn't see him properly. But now, with the sun shining high above us, I take in all his glory. I run my hand from one shoulder to the other then down his steel chest. He pulls me into another kiss, deeper than any before, as if he's determined to claim every wisp of air, every part of me.