Her gaze sparkles with ire and then softens. “I swear I didn’t. I love you.”
“Fuck!” I slam into her, letting almost two weeks of anger, hatred, and uncertainty bleed out of me as I pound into her perfect body. “You. Are. Mine.” I thrust hard, grinding my pelvis against hers, wanting to go deeper, harder, until I’m wrapped up in nothing but the woman I love.
“Honey, God, I missed you. Missed us!” she cries out on a gasp.
It’s too much. Everything that is Skyler and me together is too much to bear. I’m hanging by the strength of a single strand of hair.
“Get there,” I growl, pounding into her body as she tightens around me, the walls of her sex a sacred home I never want to leave.
Sparks and pinpricks move over my body as I take in all that is Skyler and me.
The haven between her thighs, welcoming my every thrust.
Her arms holding me tight, as if she’ll never let me go.
The serenity of having her lips on mine, her breath and taste in my mouth.
Her soul coming home.
“I’ll never be the same,” I whisper against her lips, taking us both higher and higher with each blessed thrust. Our bodies joining, minds melding, hearts healing with every breath.
“Honey . . . ,” she moans, and licks her lips, licking mine in the process.
The touch of her tongue sends another ribbon of ecstasy between my thighs, swirling around my groin until my eyesight wavers, my thighs lock in place, glutes tightening painfully. Sweat breaks out over my body, and a buzzing euphoria spreads out from my lower back, drawing my nuts up tight as they slap against her ass with every pounding thrust.
I hold her face with my busted hand, using my thumb and forefinger around her jaw. “You’ve destroyed my world. I can’t be without you. Without this. I love you, Skyler. I fucking love you so much it burns in me.”
Tears fall down her cheeks as her body locks down, arms shackled around my shoulders, heels digging into my ass. She slams her lips to mine in a crushing kiss.
Her kiss is love, honesty, and truth. It heals me from the inside out as my own body soars to the stars.
Her hair is so soft as I run my fingers through the strands. After the wall fucking, we made it into a heap on the bed, still half-dressed, me in my opened slacks, no shirt, her with her flimsy dress on. She did take the boots off, much to my sadness.
I glance over at the clock and realize we’ve been gone for two hours and not a lot has been solved besides soothing the ache in our physical bodies.
“We have to go. Wendy could wake up.” I let her hair fall through my fingers one last time and sit up, heaving my body over the side of the bed.
“Honey, we need to talk. Really talk.” She places her hand on the center of my bare back, and it burns against my skin.
I nod and stand up, unable to handle more of her touch right now. If I let it, I could so easily go down the rabbit hole and disregard everything else in my life and lose myself in her warm light.
“And we will.”
She gets up onto her knees. “But do you believe me?” Her voice shakes, and she eases back on her heels, perched on the bed like a needy puppy awaiting its next treat.
I look at her sorrow-filled face and honest eyes. “Yeah, I do. That doesn’t mean I’m not still hurt and angry for what you did. Going to him.”
She rushes to speak. “I had to try and fix it—”
I cut her off. “We can’t do this now, Sky. I need to get back to Wendy. She needs us. All of us. Do you understand?”
She bites her lip and nods before crawling out of the bed and putting her boots on. “I need to pick up my suitcase.” She gestures to her lower body where, under her dress, I know she’s going commando.
“Yeah, okay.”
Her gaze falls to the bandage on my shoulder as if just seeing it for the first time. “What is this?”
“Gunshot wound. Was grazed by a bullet the same day Wendy was shot.”
Her eyes widen and fill with tears once more. She reaches for my wrist above where my hand is now bandaged from where the ER doc replaced a few of the stitches I busted this past week. The ring and pinky fingers are still in their splints.
Her voice is raw and so low I can barely hear it when she whispers, “And this?”
I try to pull my hand back, not wanting to tell her what I did to myself. “Let it go, Sky.”
She brings my wounded hand to her face and kisses my palm. “And this?” she repeats.
I close my eyes and rustle up the courage to admit my pain. “I had it out with a wall and a beer bottle. You should see the wall.”
“When?” A tear slips down her cheek.
“Sky . . . ,” I warn, but her voice rises.
“I said when?”
“The same day you woke up in another man’s bed.”
Her eyes close, more tears slipping out. “Parker, I didn’t sleep with him.” Her words hold even more conviction now because I’m not balls deep inside of her.
I straighten my shoulders and my resolve. “I believe you.”
SKYLER
Parker’s hand is warm in mine as he leads me through the halls of Montreal General Hospital. I watch his profile and stare longingly at his handsome face. His jaw is hard and scruffy from what seems to be a few days of going without his daily shave. The high cheekbones and straight Roman nose are a sight for sore eyes, though it’s his eyes, or rather the dark circles underneath those baby blues, that have me worried. I squeeze his hand, reminding him that I’m here and thanking every deity known to mankind that he’s allowing me to be by his side.
Together.
It’s all I’ve prayed for the better part of two weeks without him. Our coupling earlier was an angry crash of bodies, limbs, and mouths. A fever that swelled and crested with the most beautiful crescendo but ended with doubt and uncertainty of where we stand now. I can only hope it will be enough until we have the time to talk, truly work out what happened.
We reach Wendy’s room to find Michael speaking with a blonde woman and a younger blond man. The blonde looks like she could be splashed all over the Victoria’s Secret website. Either that or a classy version of Hustler. Her hair is hanging around her shoulders in bountiful big curls. She has on a skintight royal-blue dress that looks like she was sewn into it and is the exact opposite of my simple maxi dress and sweater. She’s wearing sky-high stilettos, and her lips are painted a glossy pink. She looks like she could have just come out of a nightclub, only it’s just ten minutes past noon. The man sitting next to her has similar facial features, hair, and eyes, and is wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Definitely not a couple but very likely related.
“Parker!” The woman jumps out of her seat and plasters her voluptuous body all over my man.
Parker lets go of my hand and pats her back in a gesture of support and concern, but thankfully, not more than that. Still, I cringe and grind my molars together.
“Alexis, what are you doing here?” He looks over to the blond man. “Kidd.” He nods.
“Well, we came the first day and again yesterday, but we must not have crossed paths. We’re heartbroken over what happened to Wendy, and by someone working for us.” She sniffs, getting teary before she presses her forehead to Parker’s chest, her hands to her face, and sobs, letting her tears run.
He pats her back and swallows. I can see his Adam’s apple moving slowly. Parker glances at me and frowns. I’m not sure what it means or why he did it. Maybe because there’s a strange woman crying against his chest. Maybe he doesn’t want me to see him console her.
“It’s okay. Wendy’s going to be fine,” he coos into her hairline, and nods his chin at the man standing next to them, who looks rather uncomfortable and out of place. He eases the crying woman into the man’s tattooed arms, and he takes over easily, comforting her within his embrace.
She lets out a whimper, pulls her head away, and takes the hankie Michael holds out toward her. Ever the gentleman,
Wendy’s Michael is.
“Who is she?” The blonde points to me, wiping under her eyes and nose. Not a speck of her makeup is smeared, which makes me want to hate her for being so perfect even when she cries.
Before either of us can respond, Michael glances my way. “She’s Parker’s girlfriend.”
Her eyes widen, and a devilish smirk appears across her glossy lips. “Pretty. I can see now why you wouldn’t take me up on my offer,” she says, addressing Parker while sizing me up.
Take her up on her offer?
What the hell kind of offer did she make?
A violent wave of jealousy washes over me, and I narrow my gaze at her and tighten my fists at my sides. My heart pounds a bass drumbeat so hard I can barely breathe. Butterflies take flight in my nauseous stomach; I’m two seconds from tossing my cookies in the hospital wastebasket.
“Ouch. Those daggers you’re sending are lethal.” She runs a hand through her hair, a nonchalance in her movements I’ve never quite mastered. “Don’t worry, he didn’t accept my offer. Well, not completely.” She winks, which might as well be seen as nothing short of a point being marked on a scoreboard.
“What the fuck does that mean, Parker? Who is this woman?” I lose my lock on my filter and glare at Parker. “Do you have something you need to tell me about Miss Big Boobs over there?”
Parker runs a hand behind his neck. “This is Alexis Stanton and her brother, Kidd. They’re our clients. The shooting happened at their business. They’re here to see Wendy. And no, I don’t have anything more to say. The rest we’ll deal with later.” The emphasis on the word later brooks no argument. Even though I feel like I’m coming out of my skin, and beads of sweat are forming along my hairline, I tighten my jaw and keep my mouth shut.
“You look familiar. A dead ringer for that actress Skyler Paige,” the blonde says.
Parker sighs loudly. “It’s because she is Skyler Paige.” He looks down at his feet, the awkwardness of the situation clearly weighing him down.
“Wow.” Alexis blinks rapidly as if she can’t believe her own eyes.
Inside, I want to fist-bump the air and call out a “Take that, Barbie bitch!” Win for me.
Michael comes over to me, and I take his hand in both of mine.
“Thank you for coming, Skyler. Wendy would be pleased. You should talk to her. I believe she can hear you.” His lips flatten into a thin white line of irritation as he leads me over to Wendy’s prone form before glancing back over his shoulder. “All of you.”
Seeing her lying so still, bandaged up, darkness smudging around her eyes and cheeks, my stomach plummets. I slide into the chair next to her bedside and grab for her hand.
“Wendy . . . it’s me, Sky. Your new bestie, remember?” I swallow down the sudden clog in my throat. “Hey, you have to wake up, girlie. You have a wedding to plan, and we have bridesmaids’ dresses to pick out. Remember? We were going to have a girls’ weekend in the city?” I lean my chin against her arm and look intensely at her face, willing her to wake up. “Please wake up.” My voice sounds like I’ve swallowed razor blades, and my throat feels just as bad.
A warm hand comes down on each of my shoulders. Parker.
“I didn’t know she asked you to be in the wedding.”
My nose starts to run, and I sniff, not caring if Miss Big Boobs sees me breaking down. I can’t care about anything when my friend is lying in a bed, fighting to wake up and come back to those who love her.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, when you left for San Francisco. She called, and I said yes.” I gaze intently at Wendy’s face. “I said I would be thrilled and honored to walk in your wedding.” My voice rises in hopes that Wendy can hear my commitment all the way in dreamland or wherever her mind is floating.
Time ebbs and flows around me, but I stay where I am, holding Wendy’s hand, willing my friend to open her eyes.
Just open your eyes.
I chant the phrase in an ongoing loop as hours go by.
She never moves or opens her eyes.
Sometime later, Parker’s warmth seeps deep into my knotted shoulders where he places his hands like he did earlier. He leans down and kisses the crown of my head, and I wish for a moment that we could stay in this happy, loving place for a bit longer. The place where we’re a couple who loves and cares about one another with no lies and half-truths between us.
“Time to go back to the hotel. Visiting hours are over.” His voice is a rumble against my hairline.
I blink as if I’m suddenly awake from a hypnotic trance. Opposite me, Michael sits holding Wendy’s other hand, staring desperately at her pixielike features. I don’t remember when he moved to that side or how long I’ve been sitting, but my back aches, and my knees and hips are stiff as boards. Parker grabs my hand.
“Come on.” He urges me up and out of the plastic chair. I squeeze Wendy’s hand one last time.
“Please wake up,” I whisper, and turn around to leave.
Bo and Royce are standing like sentries at her door. That drop in my stomach from earlier happens again at the sight of Parker’s best friends. Bo’s features are hard, a grim expression on his face. Royce’s is not far from that, but I’m uncertain if it’s because of me or Wendy’s condition.
“Hi, guys.” I shuffle forward, Parker leading me by the hand.
Both men clock our clasped hands.
“Skyler,” Bo says flatly, not a hint of happiness at seeing me.
Royce isn’t much better with a nod and a rumbled, “Girl.”
I close my eyes and dip my head down, following the white linoleum squares along the hallway floors while the chill that came off their two forms freezes me to the bone. Briefly I wonder if I’ll ever get back in their good graces.
Parker doesn’t say a word as we pick up my luggage at information, and he leads me back to his hotel room.
Numbly I set my luggage on the couch and rummage through until I find a pair of shorts and a cami, along with my travel toiletries. Clutching my pajamas and bag in my arms, I wander to the bathroom. As I shut the door, Parker is on the phone ordering room service. He knows what I like, so I don’t bother giving him my order. Not that I could eat anyway. I’ve got no appetite and a tightening stomach to contend with. It’s as if I’ve just gotten off a roller coaster, the waves of nausea and dizziness overcoming my movements.
Between being nervous for Wendy and my own insecurities over whatever happened between Parker and Alexis, I’m a mess. My heart is heavy and my chest is strung extremely tight as I set my pj’s on the vanity and look at myself in the mirror. Long, unruly blonde waves run over my shoulders and down my back. The little bit of makeup I wore today has already been rubbed off. Even still, I wash my face and moisturize, needing the break from the man in the other room.
I don’t know what to say to him. How to get him to trust and believe I would never betray him. He says he believes me, but if he does, why isn’t he talking to me? Why is he avoiding what must be said? And what the hell happened between him and Miss Big Boobs?
An idea forms, and I don’t know how it’s going to go over with him, but I feel as though I’m standing on the edge of a building. Down below is the busy street, cars zooming past, citizens going about their business, and then there’s me. High up on a ledge, teetering between being saved and letting myself fall.
A flash of my mother’s kind eyes comes to me, a memory swirling around me and taking me back to a time long ago.
I was sixteen, and a boy I liked in the movie I was filming had hurt my feelings. I was standing in front of a mirror. My beautiful mother stood behind me, running her fingers through my long hair. Her chocolate-brown eyes were on me, sending love and compassion through our mother-daughter bond.
“You know what to do, my precious girl.” She smiled softly and pressed her chin to my shoulder.
I shook my head, and tears filled my eyes. “No, I don’t, Momma. He hurt me, and I don’t know if we can be anything more than friends.”
> “Oh, I didn’t teach my daughter the act of forgiveness for nothing.”
I smashed my lips together and frowned.
“Did he apologize?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure I believe him.” My voice shook through the admission.
“Well, my precious girl, it looks like you’re going to have to use the best advice my mother gave me at about your age. Especially when it pertains to boys.”
“What did Grandmomma tell you?” I asked, hanging on her every word.
My mother was always the wisest, most loving woman I knew. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.
“You just have to follow your heart. It will always lead the way.”
With my mother’s words in my head and my heart in my throat, I dig through my travel bag and find a dark-pink lipstick. I uncap the lid and set it on the counter while I lift up onto my toes and write my own message to Parker in my swirling text. Something for him to remember and hopefully understand.
Trust your heart.
Love you,
Peaches
When I’m done, I put on my pajamas and open the bathroom door. The scent of hamburgers and fries assaults my nose, and my mouth waters, my stomach grumbling.
Parker chuckles and points down at the food on the table.
“That was fast.”
“Peaches, you were in there for ages. I thought maybe you’d taken a bath.”
“Guess time got away from me,” I mumble.
“Yeah?”
I nod.
“Well, come eat.” He holds a chair out at the small table for me to sit in.
I let my bare feet take me to the chair and sit down. He helps push it toward the table before going to his own seat. When he sits, he lets out a world-weary sigh, one I can feel all the way down to the tips of my toes. What I wouldn’t give to ease his tension, though I fear I’m part of the cause.
“Are we going to talk?” I blurt out, knotting my fingers in my lap, my food untouched.
He sets down his hamburger without having bitten into it. “Yeah, baby, we’re going to talk. After dinner, in bed, when I can have you in my arms. We’ll talk then.”
Montreal (International Guy Book 6) Page 13
