by Fiona Cole
“To all of us,” Parker added, his smile soft.
We tossed them back and quickly did the second.
“I declare that to help us celebrate, Nova must sing,” Oren announced.
“Uhhh, no thanks.”
“Oh, come on, Supernova,” Ash cajoled.
“I mean, you can’t be worse than Oren,” Brogan joked.
Oren nodded. “Truth, brother. Come on. Nova. Nova. Nova.”
He started a chant that quickly picked up until there were a few people from tables close by that joined in. I cringed, deciding I’d rather sing than have the entire bar chant my name.
“Fine. Stop. I’ll sing. But Parker has to go on stage with me.”
“Done,” he agreed without hesitating.
I followed him to the stage and stayed back while he put in his request with the DJ.
Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I eyed the stage like it would grow teeth and eat me alive. My stomach turned, and my heart thundered like a stampede of wild horses. I’d never sung in front of a crowd. Hell, the only people I’d ever sang in front of was the guys.
I shook out my hands and took deep breaths, trying to stretch my lungs and release the bands of nerves squeezing them tight.
“You ready?” Parker asked.
“No. Does that mean I don’t have to do it?”
He laughed. “Oh, we’re doing this. You’re amazing. I wouldn’t let you up on that stage if I didn’t think otherwise.”
“You let Oren up there.”
“God himself couldn’t have stopped Oren from owning that stage.”
“This is true.” My laughter died, and I went back to bouncing to expend my energy. “This is the worst. Shit. Shit. What song did you pick?”
“It’s All Coming Back to Me, I know how much you like that song.”
“Damn. I do love me some Meatloaf.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to turn him down. And we sang it together that one night, so it’s easy.” He gripped my shoulders and bent his knees, so I was forced to meet his eyes, and everything around us faded. “It’s just you and me. I’m right here with you.”
And just like that, one of the bands snapped loose, making it easier to breathe. It didn’t vanish completely, but staring into his blue eyes, watching the thick wave of his hair fall down from where he kept pushing it back, it lightened.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Okay.”
We climbed the five steps to the stage, and I kept my eyes glued to the worn and scuffed wood instead of the crowd. A ringing vibrated in my ears. Sweat beaded in my hairline under the two spotlights. No wonder the guys always came off stage sweating, it was hot as hell, and we only had two lights focused on us. Parker passed me a microphone, and I thought it would slip from my sweaty palm.
I didn’t think I could do it. I wouldn’t even be able to hear the music over my blood rushing through my veins. But then I heard a screech I’d never forget in this lifetime.
“Supernova,” Oren screamed-slash-sang. “I love you. Have my babies.”
More cheers calling my name broke through the last bit of nerves, and I finally peered up to find the guys right in front of me, their arms up like the best fanboys a girl could ask for.
The music started, and I shifted my focus to Parker. There was no stopping my eyes from going to him. Each note closer to my verse had a lump growing in my throat, but then Parker smiled, and everything eased—at least a little.
Closing my eyes, I imagined I was in my room, doing my art, or in our living room helping the guys create a song—completely normal.
And just like that, the words came. My chest vibrated with the lyrics. I stood taller and sang from somewhere deeper than my lungs. I poured the song out to Parker like I was pouring my soul out to him. His face lit up, and he never looked away—staying with me every second.
Before long, I lost myself to the moment. I even looked out to the crowd, performing just like I’d seen the guys do time and time again. I belted out each note, the euphoria of performing flooding my veins with a bolt of electricity I never saw coming. Every time I considered singing in front of anyone, I shut down. I never thought it would be like this.
This thrilling.
This exciting.
This…everything.
Parker and I harmonized, closing out the song with the last chorus, standing almost chest to chest as we sang together.
I didn’t know what perfection was, but this had to be close.
My body vibrated so hard I was sure I’d explode. The excitement filled to overflowing, and I just wanted to scream.
We descended the steps, and I almost tackled him to the ground with the force of my hug. He caught me and stumbled back. His long arms flexed and held me close. I looked up to find him laughing at my exuberance and froze. Maybe it was the shot of tequila. Maybe it was the joy of discovering such a high. Maybe it was the dancing from earlier. Maybe it was every single moment that led to this one right here.
I lifted to my toes and crushed my mouth to his. The kiss was hard and lacking any finesse, but none of that mattered because my lips were pressed to Parker Callahan’s.
His body stiffened against mine for only a moment but long enough to pour a bucket of water over my burning excitement.
I was kissing Parker Callahan—my stepbrother—in public where anyone could see.
Every obstacle that held me back before now crashed through my haze, and I jerked back.
“Shit. Parker. I-I’m so sorry,” I stuttered.
He blinked, looking down at me like he’d never seen me before.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered again.
He blinked again, and the shock vanished. The next thing I knew, his arms tightened, his hands pressing into my back as he turned us deeper into the darkened corner. The lights and crowd vanished behind him, and all I saw was him.
All I wanted to see was him.
“Parker,” I whispered, pleading with him to tell me what to do next.
I could barely see his eyes in the dark, but I could see enough to watch his pupils dilate just before his lips came crashing to mine this time. I gasped, and he took the opening to deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue against mine.
He tasted like the tangy lime and tequila, and I became just as drunk on him as I could ever be on tequila. His spicy scent that lingered in the bathroom every morning encompassed me, seeping into every sense. I clung to his biceps, digging my nails into the flexing muscles, wanting to leave my mark on him.
I didn’t even know what that meant, but as he walked us backward until my back hit a wall, I didn’t care. I became primal, giving in to my instincts—into the embers that flamed to an inferno. Sliding my hands up, I dug them into his hair, holding him to me, unwilling to let him realize this was wrong and stop. I needed more. I needed to dig deep into this urge he created. I wanted to learn more, and I wanted him to teach me.
I pressed my breasts to his chest, my hips to his, closing every inch of space keeping us apart. He groaned when his hard length grazed my stomach, the sound vibrating against my sensitive nipples.
I ached and whimpered when he pulled away just long enough for us both to suck in air, only to come crashing back.
His scruff abraded my cheek when he dragged his seeking lips down to my neck. The hand pressed to my back slid to my front, gliding up to cup my breast. Needing to see it, I tipped my head, giving him more access to me and watching his long fingers cover my breast, moaning when his thumb grazed across my nipple.
I angled my hips, rubbing back and forth against his dick, needing the friction—needing something.
“More,” I begged.
“Fuck,” he muttered into my skin. His lips traveled back up over my chin, pinching my nipple through my bra, making me gasp just in time for his tongue to dominate my mouth, to taste me like I wanted to taste him.
We devoured each other in that dark corner, lost in a haze of denied pleasure, ignoring anything that c
ould make us stop.
Anything except the guys calling my name.
Their shouts pierced our bubble and had us jerking back on instinct.
“Fuck,” he muttered again, watching me with eyes that looked as lost as I felt. “Nova.”
I touched my lips, holding the memory of his on mine close.
“I don’t—”
I don’t want to stop, I wanted to say, but admitting it felt too much like begging, and I cut it off.
Not that it mattered because he apparently thought the same thing.
“You want to go home?” he asked, but something in the way he asked let me know going home held so much more than our typical routine.
And I couldn’t wait to find out.
“Yes. Take me home.”
It sounded like begging, but imagining what could happen, I didn’t even care. I’d beg him on my knees if it meant we didn’t have to stop.
Now that we started, I never wanted to stop.
Twelve
Nova
P A S T
The first thing I noticed when walking through the door was the picture-perfect family photo my mom claimed we absolutely needed now that we were all together. Right next to that one was the one Mom made Parker and me take together like siblings.
Not the reminder I needed when my lips still stung from where he kissed me. Not when I wanted to bombard him as soon as the door clicked behind us so we could do it again.
Only the dim light we left on in the kitchen shined around the corner, illuminating us in shadows. But when I turned to face him, I noticed him looking at the same photo, and dread crept its way up my back.
It’d been thirty minutes since I’d first kissed Parker Callahan—thirty minutes too long. We’d rushed our goodbyes and sat silently in the back of a cab on the way home, both lost in our thoughts—me lost in anticipation. I thought maybe Parker had been too, but watching his brows pinch together as he stared at the picture, I worried maybe I’d been the only one.
“Nova—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off before he could even start his speech about why we shouldn’t. He could have listed off any reason, and none of it would have mattered. I didn’t care. Our parents were gone for the weekend and nothing stood in our way. “Just for tonight,” I pleaded. “Just for my birthday. Then we can go back to not talking about it.”
Just like we had for the last few months. We’d let it linger and fill the wasted space between us and never utter even a hint about its existence.
He finally looked away from the photo, lifting shadowed eyes to mine, and I held my breath, waiting and waiting.
Why wasn’t he repeating what he’d done earlier? Why wasn’t he dragging me away to his room? Why didn’t he look as desperate as me?
“Unless there’s nothing to talk about, and I’m making a fool of myself with announcing my one-sided feelings.”
At this, he finally reacted. He tipped his head back and barked a single laugh. “Ha! Fuck no. You are one-hundred-percent, not alone in this. Jesus, Nova,” he said, sighing, rubbing his hand over his hair and massaging his neck. “There’s a whole set of encyclopedias filled with what we don’t say. So, trust me, you’re not the only one.”
“You think about it, too?” I asked hesitantly.
He shook his head like he couldn’t understand my question. “All the time,” he whispered, slowly closing the gap between us. “Why do you think I come to you almost every night?”
Each step he took, my heart worked harder, pumping the adrenaline like fire through my veins. Each step, I panted for him, desperate and out of breath for wanting him. “My bed is better?” I offered.
His lips quirked up, and his eyes grew heavy. “Why do you think I stay away from other girls?”
“You do?” He nodded, and I swallowed, forming another breathless quip. “Maybe you’re holding out for Oren.”
Finally, he stood inches away—so close I had to tip my head back to keep a hold of his heated gaze. He locked me in place, and I was his willing victim. Take me, I pleaded back to his burning promise.
“No, Nova,” he explained, brushing a loose wave behind my ears, his rough fingers softly grazing my cheek. The caress was nothing, but it might as well have been a direct stroke against an erogenous zone the way it sent goosebumps down my spine. “It’s because I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop watching you—wanting you.”
I was lost in him, reaching out to grip his waist to hold myself steady. All the blood rushed to my lower body, leaving me lightheaded. I’d seen Parker almost every way you could see someone, but I’d never seen him like this.
I’d never seen him with all his attention focused on me like I was an oasis in a desert. Like I was a 1968 Stratocaster played by Jimmi Hendrix. Like I was the one thing he ever wanted, and now that he had me, he was going to do whatever he wanted.
“I haven’t jerked off this much in years. I fucking ache for you.”
Heat bloomed across my cheeks. I knew a lot about sex…from reading about it. Experience-wise? I was a novice at best, and I definitely didn’t talk about it openly. His blatant announcement conjured an image of his arm flexing, his lips parted, his eyes closed in pleasure. An image I wanted to actually see—needed to see.
“Do you ache for me, Nova?” he asked, backing me up against the wall like we were at the bar.
I was downright panting now and licked my lips to bring moisture back to my mouth. He tracked the movement with first his eyes and then his thumb.
“I think I do,” I answered honestly. I didn’t know what this tightly coiled tension pulling all my focus into the center of my body was, but I knew I’d never felt it before. I thought about Parker all the time. I imagined kissing him and touching him, but nothing compared to the inferno that consumed me in this moment.
He cocked his head to the side, considering my answer. “Think? Do you touch yourself and think of me?”
“I-uh…umm…” Fuck, words were hard. My brain short-circuited over the question, fighting my instinct to pull away from the topic and also shoving on because I wanted to be all-knowing with him. I wanted to be on his level and show him I could handle him.
“You do touch yourself, right?”
“Sometimes,” I choked out. “I just…I…I don’t know.”
His finger abandoned where it rested on my neck and trailed down my chest until he brushed my nipple.
“Here?”
I whimpered when he circled the hard tip, nodding my head.
“What about here?” he asked, dragging his fingertips down my stomach and gently grazing between my thighs like a whisper, there and gone before I could register it.
Again, I nodded, unable to form any coherent words.
“Have you made yourself come?”
Doing my best to hold his gaze, I bit my lip and jutted my chin, trying to show a confidence I was nowhere near having—and shook my head.
“Oh, Nova,” he chided. “Then you must ache for me. It’s been building this whole time with no release.”
His hand rested in the curve of my waist, and he leaned in, running his nose along mine. I clung to his shirt like a lifeline. If he wanted to pull away now, he was going to have a fight on his hands. So, to show him how much I wanted this, even if I didn’t fully know what this was, I demanded it.
“Show me.”
His eyes slid closed, and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose just before he released a growl like a caged animal and attacked. With more experience than I actually had, I met him kiss for kiss. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me right where he wanted me, and I clung to him, letting my hands search the hard planes of his biceps, shoulders, and back. His tongue pushed into my mouth, demanding I taste him, and I pushed back, needing him to do the same, hoping I could leave a part of myself behind and make him crave more.
His lips, teeth, and tongue scraped over my chin to my neck, and I yelped when his roaming hands gripped my ass and lifted me. On ref
lex, like my body knew what to do more than my mind did, I wrapped my legs around his waist, groaning when my core brushed his abdomen.
“More,” I pleaded. I needed more of that feeling.
He continued his assault as he walked us into the living room. I wanted to beg him to take me to his room, to strip me bare and make the ache go away, but I didn’t care about a bed anymore when he fell back on the couch with me straddling his lap.
On instinct, I rocked my hips, needing more friction between my legs. He thrust up with a grunt, and I hesitated, worried I hurt him or did it wrong. Not knowing what to do but needing to do something, I pulled back just enough to whisper my plea. “Help me, Parker. I-I don’t know.”
I struggled to confess the truth when I’d been trying so hard to prove I could handle him, but I wanted this to be perfect, and I didn’t know what to do.
He pulled back; the blue of his eyes almost lost to his pupils. They flicked over my face, and I feared he’d stop, spotting my inexperience and not wanting to bother with it.
“Are you a virgin, Nova?”
Swallowing, I nodded.
“But you’ve had boyfriends.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “But never serious or anything.”
“And they never got you off?”
I shook my head.
“A virgin who’s never come,” he muttered, but not like he was put off by it. More like he was intrigued. He pushed my hair back behind my ear, the rough callous of his fingers tracing the shell up and around and down my neck.
I shivered when his finger scraped along my collarbone until he reached the hollow of my throat and moved down between my breasts. His fingers rested there over the sheer material of my top, and he studied them like he wasn’t sure how they got there or where to move them next.
I had some ideas, and I was on the edge of not caring if I looked like a fool and begged him to touch me again—to rip the flimsy material off and shred my lace bralette underneath and just fucking touch me. I needed to be closer.
Finally, his eyes lifted back to mine and sent a jolt down to my core. Parker Callahan had never looked at me that way—no one had. With so much heat and desire—a look I only saw in movies—filled with the promise of everything to come.
