She licked my palm, and I chuckled as I pulled my hand away.
“Very mature of you, dear.”
“It’s been said that I’m just a young girl and that I don’t quite have the grownupness of an adult quite yet.” She snickered.
Then she sobered.
“I didn’t really mean that,” she whispered.
“You’re taking it back?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but Gunner once again interrupted.
Jesus, the little cockblocker—literally and figuratively.
“I think I might throw up.”
I looked at him, thinking he was meaning how Kayla and I were behaving, but his eyes weren’t trained on us. They were trained on the hundreds of pictures that lined the bulletin boards that were just below the stage.
The pictures held hundreds and hundreds of pictures of the children.
“I didn’t…I didn’t do this,” he said. “Did Granddad?”
I shook my head. “I stole them off your Facebook. And mine. Even Dad’s and all his women. Then sent them in to the coordinator,” I said softly.
Gunner wheezed out a breath, then walked up to the bulletin board that was Jett’s.
He touched one photo in particular.
“That was the day that he came home from the hospital. I was so scared that day. I had no clue what I was doing, or what I should do next.” He laughed. “You changed his first diaper, remember?”
I did.
I hadn’t known how to do it either, honestly.
But we’d learned together.
I’d had six weeks off because of an injury I’d sustained while on a mission, and it hadn’t come at a more perfect time. Jett had arrived, and we spent that entire six weeks trying to figure out how to care for an infant together.
“I do. He peed on me.” I started to laugh.
Gunner burst out laughing right along with me.
“I miss him.”
I swallowed through a suddenly thick throat. “I miss him, too.”
Chapter 19
Swearing, because sometimes ‘gosh darnit’ and ‘meanie head’ just doesn’t cut it.
-Coffee Cup
Kayla
The ceremony was the worst thing I’d ever gone to in my life.
I hadn’t stopped crying for two straight hours as parent after parent got up and told us about their favorite memory with their children.
Then he got up.
“Be right back, boyo,” Parker said to Gunner as he passed, ruffling his hair.
Gunner had been invited up to say something, but he hadn’t been ready. He’d asked Parker to say something for him.
Parker did, walking up to the stage and taking the steps two at a time until he was standing up on the landing.
The ceremony had started playing pictures of each child as their family came and said something about them. Now it was little Jett’s turn.
The first photo to roll across the screen was one with him looking up.
He was in a bouncer of some sort, and he had his daddy’s baseball hat—all worn and beat up—on his head. It was sideways because it was too big for his tiny head, but his gummy smile showed that he was more than happy with it being there, regardless of whether it fit or not.
The next picture to roll across the screen was one of Jett and Gunner. Gunner had thrown Jett—who appeared to be about six months old—into the air. Jett was laughing in hysterical excitement while clapping his hands. Gunner’s arms were over his head as he waited for his child to fall into his hands.
And my stomach clenched.
I had one of those pictures with me and my dad, too.
It was my most favorite one in the world.
And I knew that it’d been my father’s favorite, too.
How did I know that?
I bent over and pulled my wallet out of my purse, then opened it up.
Inside, in a half sandwich size baggie, was the photo.
The photo was old, yellowed from dirt and time, and had smudges on it. The ones on the corner of the photo were dirt where my father held it each time he wanted to look at me. But the one in the very middle? Covering my father’s legs? That was a bloody thumbprint from when my father had held that photo, staring at me, as he lay dying from a gunshot wound to the chest.
That day, just like any other day, he’d set out to rid this world of the bad people that threatened it. And, just like usual, he took that photo out when he felt like he needed to be reminded of something good in this world.
James, the man who’d been with my father throughout his whole military career, had been there with him then. He’d also told me the story.
How, every time he got that certain look in his eyes, he’d take that photo out of his breast pocket and stare at it. When he’d put it back, his eyes would be more focused and determined.
That day, though? That day, he’d taken a sniper’s bullet straight to the chest while holding that picture.
James said he stared at that picture until he took his final breath and died.
The bloody thumbprint hadn’t been my father’s thumbprint.
It’d been James’s.
James had taken the photo from my father’s dead fingers, and in the process, had put that thumbprint there, to permanently stay.
But it’d been my father’s blood on James’s fingers.
I ran my finger over my father’s smiling face and felt a tear drip down onto my lips.
I felt someone nudge me and looked up and over to find Gunner staring at me.
His eyes fell to the tears, then to the picture in my lap.
Then, without a word, he put his arm around me and held me tight as we both cried while Parker told his favorite memory.
There wasn’t a single dry eye in the house after his story. Not even his father’s.
***
I walked into the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower.
I needed to take one and get warm. Stupid Florida wasn’t supposed to be cold!
Not to mention, I needed to wash off the salt from my stupid freakin’ tears.
God, I hadn’t cried that much in a long time.
And that was saying something, because I cried a lot.
Frequently, in fact.
I’d just stripped off my shirt, pants, and panties, and was working on my bra when I felt two strong arms encircle my waist.
“I need you,” he said softly.
I opened my mouth to protest, but then I was in his arms, and he was pressing me up against the cold tile inside the tub—and I gasped in surprise.
The water was pelting us both in the face, so he hitched me higher until I was out of the water’s path.
“Parker…”
“Usually have to go to that alone,” he murmured hoarsely. “God, every year I tell everyone about my favorite memory, and every year it changes. How do you have a favorite memory of a little boy that was so full of life like Jett?”
I didn’t know.
I had a feeling, though.
Janie’s daughter, Abrielle, was still young yet. But whenever I spent time with her, a new memory was ingrained in my brain, and each one was just as special as the last.
“I’m so sorry, Parker.”
“You saved me.” he murmured, leaning a little farther back so that my face was a little farther from his.
The water was hitting him in the back of the head, curling around his ears and sluicing down his body.
It traveled from his ears all the way down, soaking him.
That’s when I noticed he still had his underwear on, but they were doing a really poor job at containing his erection.
Even though just minutes before I hadn’t been willing or in the mood, seeing his need instantly put me in the mood.
I’d do anything for him.
Anything.
And if what he needed was my body to help him make sense of the day,
I’d give it to him. Willingly. All day every day if I had to, as long as it kept those shadows out of his eyes.
“Usually come to my hotel room, drink a fifth of whiskey—or at least try to—and then pass out. Make sure to have a late checkout, because by the time usual checkout is up, I’m still passed out drunk trying to pretend like I don’t remember.”
I bit my lip, then lifted my hand and curled it around the back of his head.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
His eyes searched mine for a few long seconds, and then he growled before slamming his mouth on my own.
We didn’t talk much after that.
He made love to me.
I’d experienced him hard—and it being my first time ever with a man—I’d surprisingly loved it.
But this? What he was doing right then?
This was making love. There was no other word for it.
Not when he kissed me slowly, tenderly.
Not when he lined himself up with my entrance and slowly slipped inside.
Not when he pumped himself into me in soft, smooth, yet firm strokes.
God, everything about it was magnificent.
He filled me fully.
He took me like I’d never imagined I’d be taken.
I loved it so much.
So. Fucking. Much.
And he kept the dizzying kisses up, making sure to swallow each cry that left my mouth.
When I finally peaked, my pussy clenching around him so hard and long that I thought I might pass out from the gloriousness of it, I knew that if I died right this very second, I’d have lived a complete and full life.
All because of Parker.
He came moments after me, filling me so full of him that I could feel him slipping out from between us.
He stopped moving and then pivoted, holding me aloft in the air with only his arms, and allowing the hot water to roll over my surprisingly freezing back.
I stared down into his eyes, my arms around his neck, and said the only words I could think to say in a moment like that.
“I love you.”
He didn’t reply or express anything whatsoever. Not with his words, anyway.
Chapter 20
You’re lying if you’ve never looked at the state of your bank account and considered the benefits of prostitution.
-Parker to Rafe
Parker
“This traffic is goddamn awful,” I told the empty cab. “Jesus Christ. I don’t want a Christmas present bad enough to fight this shit. Why should you?”
Nobody answered, which was honestly a given, seeing as nobody was with me.
But the Christmas traffic was driving me in-fucking-sane.
It was still ten days away, and everyone was acting like it was Christmas Eve and the hours were counting down.
I seriously did not see the point.
Christmas was a joke of a holiday, anyway.
Nobody remembered the real reason for the season. They only saw what they wanted to see, and that was a fuckin’ present to be had.
Kids didn’t know why they were celebrating. They only knew that they were getting presents.
Hell, I’d been in the mall parking lot earlier, picking up a tow, when a fight had broken out between a parent and a child.
It’d been over, from what I gathered, something that the mother said that the child couldn’t have because it was too expensive.
After the kid screamed at the mom at the top of his lungs about how ‘unfair life is,’ he got into their Escalade and picked up his iPhone.
Hell, when I was the kid’s age, I was lucky to get dinner.
I didn’t have a cell phone until I was nineteen and could afford to buy one myself.
My phone rang as I was thinking about it, and I placed it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“This is Bryant Humble. You called me about my place that’s for sale?”
“Yeah,” I put the truck in park. “Can I come out and look at it?”
“I’ll be there this afternoon from twelve on. I’m cleaning out the rest of our stuff. You’re welcome to come look while I’m there. Let me know when you get there, and I’ll come down and open the gate for you.”
After agreeing, I hung the phone up, then looked back at the man who was still getting shit out of his truck.
I’d been sitting in the same exact spot for well over twenty minutes with my truck idling. His SUV had been loaded up for almost all of those minutes. It’d only been when I’d gotten the last chain on that he decided that maybe he needed his Christmas gifts out of the back.
Which then turned into him and his wife cleaning the entire fucking SUV out instead of just grabbing the presents.
Now I was waiting for him to hand down what looked to be the tire iron.
I sighed and ran my finger over my phone, wondering what Kayla was doing.
She’d been at the office when I’d left, filing paperwork.
I’d brushed my hand across her ass as I’d left, and she’d mock glared at me. Then had blown me a kiss.
On a whim, I texted her.
Parker: Want to look at a house with me
Kayla: Sure. When?
Parker: Now
Kayla: Are you picking me up?
Parker: Yes, if you don’t mind the bike.
Kayla: It’s cold AF outside.
Parker: What does AF mean
Kayla: As fuck.
Parker: I have an old leather jacket and some chaps in my closet in my room. They were mine before boot camp. I think they might fit your scrawny thighs
Kayla: Only you would think my thunder thighs were scrawny. LOL
Parker: They’re scrawny compared to mine
Kayla: Do I have to wear pants underneath them?
Parker: If you want your ass to be covered….
Kayla: I meant, can I wear my leggings since that’s what I’m wearing. Or do I need to change into jeans?
Parker: Jeans should always be what you wear when you’re on a motorcycle. I don’t care who you ride with. Your uncles. Me. You wear pants. Other than the leathers, they’ll do the best job of protecting your legs in case you happen to lay the bike down.
Kayla: Yes, daddy.
Parker: I’m not your father, dear.
Kayla: I know that. But you’re acting like one.
Parker: No, I’m acting like someone who cares about you and wants to make sure that your legs are always able to wrap around my head when I’m going down on you.
Kayla: Is it hot in here, or is it just me?
Parker: I’m currently sitting in nineteen-degree temperatures waiting for a man to get all the shit out of his car that he wants. I think it’s just you.
Kayla: I’ll see you when you get here…when will that be exactly?
Parker: Probably in about an hour. Don’t eat. We’ll grab some chicken from the gas station.
Kayla: You’re literally my hero. Be safe. See you in a few. <3
I stared at that heart for quite a long time, wondering what it meant.
She said she loved me. My only worry was that she’d said that in the heat of the moment and may not have meant it after her heart rate had settled.
My hope was that it was really how she felt, but she hadn’t repeated it nor had she even brought it up in any of our conversations again.
I needed to find a way to address it again without being too obvious about my feelings in the process. Because I couldn’t have this being only one-sided. I needed her with me.
An hour later, I backed the company truck into a parking spot at the back of the lot.
My eyes were trained on my rearview mirror, so I didn’t actually see her come down the steps that led up to our apartments until I’d put the truck in park and started to get out.
With one foot on the ground, and the other still in the truck, I finally saw what she was wearing.
And felt my dick get sti
ff within milliseconds of my eyes landing on her.
Why?
Because she was in leather.
Her hair was wild and free, her shirt was tight underneath my old leather jacket, which was huge on her.
Though I hadn’t been big like I was now back before I left for boot camp, I’d still been fairly tall yet lanky.
But with the boots that Kayla had on her feet, paired with the tight jeans that I could just barely see as she walked toward me with my chaps on—goddamn, I was a goner.
I got out, slammed the truck door shut, and then hit the keyless locking button on the door handle.
The moment the locks clicked, I strode toward her with purpose written in my walk, as well as on my face.
She was busy digging through her purse, so she didn’t see me coming until I was already there.
By the time she smiled, I was in her face.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Need to go inside for a second. Come with me?”
I would’ve carried her at this point, but I was honestly worried that if I touched her, I’d damn well take her in the middle of the parking lot—or against her car.
Needless to say, I needed her to walk inside of her own volition, which she did.
“Did you forget something?” she asked as she hurried up the steps in front of me.
I swallowed hard at seeing her heart-shaped ass framed perfectly with the black leather of my old chaps.
They were way loose on her—but my God.
Oh, good goddamn.
I squeezed both hands into fists and hastened my step.
I literally had one more flight and a hallway.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this, I chanted to myself.
We made it to the top of the stairs when her purse slipped free from her shoulder and clattered to the ground. Everything inside of it spilled out, and she hissed out a breath before bending over.
In my face.
I groaned.
I was not that strong of a man—at least not when it came to her.
After driving in Christmas traffic, pairing that with the way it got my adrenaline pumping…yeah, my control was just shot.
My hands moved to her hips, and I pulled her back so her ass met the cradle of my hips.
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