by Fiona Cole
When I got off the elevator, I had an extra pep in my step, and instead of turning left toward the suites, I went right for Nova.
I knocked on the door and stood off to the side so she couldn’t see me through the peephole. I figured I’d have a better chance of her opening the door to a random knock than to me. At least, that’s what I hoped for because if she turned me away now, I needed her to open it for the concierge later.
No answer.
Checking my watch, I saw that it was just about eleven and knocked again, knowing damn well she’d be awake.
Unless she left.
I hated the panic that squeezed my chest with that thought. I hated that the thought came at all. She’d run so many times before, and standing there waiting for her to open the door, I replayed through the argument we had before I left and tried to pick out if it would have led her into running or not.
I knocked a little harder.
The door jerked open.
“What?” Nova snapped when she flung the door open.
She looked side to side for who knocked so incessantly and looked so stunning in her black leggings and shirt that claimed I hike because fuck people that I couldn’t do anything but smile, even though she rolled her eyes when she finally saw me and turned away.
“Go away, Parker,” she grumbled, attempting to close the door.
I slapped my hand out before it could close and prowled inside. She met me chest to chest but was forced to back up with my every step forward. The door clicked shut, and she jutted her chin, but the green of her eyes swirled with indecision, hurt, and want. Even if she didn’t want to want me, I saw it burning there. It reflected mine, a fire that ebbed and flowed but never died out.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Once we made it past the hallway and into the room, she shoved me back but only managed to put a few inches of distance between us.
“Coming to see you.”
“No. I don’t want you here.”
“Nova,” I said softly.
Only the lamp glowed from the end table. It perfectly illuminated the soft dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the fiery highlights in her hair I couldn’t help but imagine gripped tight in my fist. She stood before me, so stubborn, doing her best to make up for the six-inch difference between us. But while she glared, I took in every soft edge and elegant arch of her face, letting it etch itself on my soul and shine on the warmth that somehow grew each time I was with her. How did something so big keep growing inside me? She’d planted the seeds when we first met, and it twined with my veins, becoming a part of me, filling me to overflowing.
I saw it in her too, but she tried to hide it, and when she couldn’t, she jerked away, pacing to the other side of the room, just to turn back with her arms crossed.
“What. Do you want. Parker?” she gritted out through clenched teeth.
For as tightly coiled as she was, I stood relaxed, my hands loose by my side, a smile at the ready. “You.”
“Congratulations, but I’m not into open relationships.” She barked a humorless laugh and threw her arms up. “Not that we’re even in a relationship. I don’t even know what the hell we’re doing. In fact, I never knew what we were doing, so what’s new?”
“If it makes you feel better, I never knew what we were doing either. I just knew how you made me feel and how much I wanted that—how much I still want that.”
She licked her lips, swallowing, indecision marring her beautiful features. It was like watching a silent movie, a plethora of emotions displayed until finally settling back on irritated stubbornness. Back up went her chin.
“How was your date?” One brow rose like she had me cornered.
She had no idea.
I allowed my mouth to tip the slightest bit and dodged the question. We had maybe five more minutes before a knock came. “The event was great. The art was really good, and we raised a lot of money. You would have totally been in your element with all those artsy people. You know, you should have your art in a museum somewhere.”
She blinked, struggling to follow my quick transitions. “Well, I’m not really into the red carpet,” she sneered.
“You got to get past them quick—it’s the worst part—well, that and the food. Not that the food was bad, just minimal. I had to swing my McD’s on the way here, so I didn’t wither away to nothing.” Her brow furrowed, and her eyes widened when I shrugged my jacket off my shoulders. “But other than that, it was great. Other musicians of all kinds. Some fabulous art. Also, some weird art.”
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
I kept my face casual and rested my jacket on the back of the chair. “Getting comfortable.”
“I-I don’t want you here. Get comfortable in your own room.”
“Liar,” I whispered.
“No,” she snapped. “No. You don’t get to sleep in my bed every night and then ditch me to go on a date with some model.”
“I didn’t ditch you as I recall.”
“No, you just asked me to lay myself on a platter for public consumption.”
“No, I asked you to accompany me to an event.”
“It’s the same thing,” she shouted.
“It’s not. We could have come up with a solution, but you shut down; you didn’t even give us a chance. But you know what, Nova,” I closed the distance between us, bending my knees to meet her eyes. “I want you enough to push through the hard stuff.”
“That’s not fair,” she whispered, her eyes glossing over. “You know there’s more behind me not wanting to throw myself to the public. You know I want you.”
I did know, and it was the first mention of her avoiding the spotlight because of the past. She hid behind so much frustration that I think she forgot it was there fueling her decisions. But, like I said, I would push through it all.
Standing tall, I took a step back and undid the top button of my shirt. “Then show me.”
“That’s not fair, Parker. Besides, even if I did try—what if I can’t? Would you just leave me again and go see Sonia?” She sneered Sonia’s name like it left an acidic taste on her tongue.
“I choose you,” I answered simply, continuing to undo the buttons.
She watched me, her chest rising and falling, her eyes flashing between anger to push me away and needy desire. I got through three buttons when she managed to shove her anger to the forefront.
“No.” She shook her head, tendrils of hair falling from the messy mass of hair piled on her head. “I can’t do this. You need to leave.” Another button undone, and she stomped her foot. “Get out.”
With the most perfect timing, because I couldn’t ignore her demands much longer, a knock rapped on the door.
“I’ll get that.”
I took the sheet from the concierge and gave him a hefty tip before turning back to find Nova still standing in the same spot. Stretching the paper out to her, I waited for her to stop staring at me and take it.
“I knew you’d be stubborn, but I hadn’t expected this. But if showing you is what it takes to make you believe me, then I’ll happily show you.”
I shook the paper, pushing it closer for her to take. She finally grabbed it, and I waited.
For the first time, I questioned myself.
What if this wasn’t enough?
What if I showed her, and she still made me leave?
I guess I was about to find out.
NOVA
Parker and Sonia no more?
* * *
Parker Callahan from The Haunted Obsession and Sonia Caravin from the upcoming movie, The Harlots, looked anything but together tonight. Check out these exclusive pictures from the Music Programs Rock charity event tonight in Cincinnati. The couple has been on-again and off-again for almost two years, but tonight, Sonia’s scowl looks anything but together again. When asked, Parker announced that he hadn’t been with Sonia for a while but appreciated her friendship. Ouch! Talk about friend-zoned. When questioned
about if he was already with another special someone, he clammed up tight. Me thinks drama lurks in the shadows with this juicy story. But don’t worry, Caravin fans, our beloved didn’t seem too torn up when she was spotted with male model, Aaron Jones, canoodling (quite heavily, I might add) in the corner by the end of the night.
Parker left alone before the event ended—not even giving this reporter a chance to soothe his broken heart.
Maybe next time.
* * *
Until then...
* * *
—Muah.
I looked over the photos beneath the article. Sonia looked like a modern Jessica Rabbit with a sparkly red bustier and black leather leggings. She also looked pissed.
Parker looked…exhausted.
I looked from the Parker in the photo to the one standing in front of me. I almost couldn’t handle the intensity of his blue eyes.
Hope, arrogance, nerves, fear, confidence, heat. So much heat.
He did this for me. He went against his management…for me. He put me first.
“What about Aspen? The contract?”
“I’ll take my chances, and I’d do it again for you, too—a thousand times over. I’d only seen her once when we were in Seattle, and I told her then I was done. Aspen planned the whole New York thing. I almost blew a fucking gasket when I had to give up looking for you. She means nothing to me. Nothing. It’s always been you, Nova.”
“Parker.” My heart thundered too fast like a pack of wild horses, and my lungs worked overtime to keep up. I closed my eyes, trying to read his face while also trying to decipher the whirlwind taking place inside me.
“I want you, Nova.”
“It wasn’t just her, Parker. There’s more between us—”
“Then I’ll tear it down with my bare hands,” he gritted out like a wild animal. “I’m done, dammit. I’m done with just missing you. I’m not letting you slip through my fucking fingers again. I won’t do it.” As if to prove his point, he closed the gap and gripped my biceps, leaning his forehead to mine. “I want you, Nova.”
The desperation and pleading bleeding from his words almost took my legs out from under me, and I held on for support. My resistance crumbled, and everything that seemed so important before faded away, leaving just me and him pressed together—no one or nothing else holding us back for the first time since we first laid eyes on each other.
“I know it’s not perfect. I know we have things to work on, just please don’t ask me to leave.”
“I can’t—”
“Please,” he whispered before I could finish.
Sliding my hand up his chest and around his neck, I held him to me as I tipped my head just enough to bring my lips a breath apart from his. “I can’t let you slip away either.”
A puff of air hit my lips like he’d been holding his breath, and my words punched his gut, setting it free.
It was the last gentle thing from him.
With a growl, he attacked my lips, and I met him with equal ferocity.
His hands abandoned my biceps and gripped my ass, hoisting me up, where I wrapped my legs around his waist. We spun, and things crashed to the floor when he swiped the dresser clear. We slammed against the hard top and the wall. I’d have bruises tomorrow, but I didn’t care, I was too focused on picking up where he left off with his buttons. In the end, I clawed at his shirt until I gripped both sides, pulling with years of pent-up passion, sending buttons pinging everywhere.
His tongue plunged into my mouth, and I twirled mine with his, sucking like I wanted to do everywhere. I wanted to taste every inch of his skin, know every secret spot that turned him on. I wanted it all.
I fumbled with his belt, and he pulled back enough to pull my shirt over my head.
“I will never get over these fucking piercings. These tits I’ve dreamed about since I was a teenager.” He palmed one and pinched the other, pulling a cry from my parted lips. “I’m going to worship them,” he promised, starting to work on getting into my pants. “I’m going to worship all of you. But first, I just need to be inside you.”
“Yes,” I hissed.
We slammed back into action.
The room became a symphony of groans, whimpers, heavy breathing, and the rustle of clothes. Something tore, and I didn’t care what it was. I just needed him.
His pants dropped to his ankles, and his thick, hard length fell into my hands. I’d watched him last night—watched his rough grip around the soft skin and silver piercing, and I’d thought of nothing but feeling him since.
He released a savage moan, his hand fisting in my hair too tight when I slid my hand around him. I hadn’t been with many men and none of them like Parker, but he filled my hand like he was made for me.
“Fuck,” he groaned, kicking his pants free.
I stroked him softly a few more times, stopping to cradle his balls, while my other hand explored every inch of skin I could reach. I fingered the piercing in fascination, wanting to look at it but also wanting to get his mouth back on mine. I was in a sensory wonderland and didn’t know where to go next.
He pulled away, and I almost fell off the dresser to chase his lips, but he quickly hunched down to dig in his wallet for a condom.
I trembled in anticipation, having imagined this moment for years. It was almost too much but not enough all at once. My head swam watching him slide the condom down his length, my hips rocked, already seeking more. When I expected him to come to me, he dropped down, kissing and biting his way down my chest, taking only a moment to suck my nipples into his mouth before descending between my legs.
I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell him to fuck foreplay, but he shoved my legs wide without care, making room for his broad shoulders. He used his thumbs to pull my folds apart and dove in. My whole body contracted at the first swipe from my opening to my clit. My fingers clawed at the hard wood, searching for something to hold me steady. He ate me like a man starved, sucking on my clit with purpose, pushing two fingers deep without warning, twisting and sliding until I thought my whole world would explode.
Just when I almost tipped, he stopped, standing to his full height, and kissed me—making me taste myself. His forearms tucked under my knees, and his palms gripped my hips, jerking me to the edge of the dresser. He pushed all the way in to the base, tearing a savage cry from my throat like it’d been waiting there for years.
For just a moment, he stilled, and we held each other. Foreheads pressed close, breathing each other’s air, we made a moment, committing it to memory. The moment over seven years in the making. The moment we gave in.
He hooked one of my legs around his hip and used his free hand to cradle my face and tip my chin to meet his deep blue eyes. Everything fell away, and it was just me and him—Nova and Parker—like we’d longed for, for so long.
His thumb traced the arch in my cheek, the edge of my jaw, the curve of my lip, and I just watched him, felt him filling me. Finally, he pulled back one agonizing inch at a time, only to slam back in. It started slow and steady, a pounding rhythm full of intensity and need. But the desperation came roaring back, creeping through our veins, pulsing with more, more, more.
We lost our rhythm. Our soothing, searching hands became frantic again, grabbing on wherever we could. Our kisses no longer explored with intent but roved and tasted every inch we could reach. His nipple in my mouth. His ass under my clawing nails, his wavy, damp locks in my fist.
He rutted against me, thudding the frame behind me against the wall with each powerful thrust until I was sure it’d come crashing down.
And I didn’t care if it did because, with each slide, my world came closer and closer to exploding into a million pieces, and all I needed was him to cling to, and I’d be okay.
His hand moved between us, his thumb slicking around my clit with quick sure movements, and I rocked harder, racing for the finish.
“Parker. Parker.” I cried. I pleaded. I whimpered.
One more swipe, and I fell. I did
my best to stem the ragged screams of pleasure by shoving my mouth against his shoulder, but it was useless because moments later, he joined me and clung to me as he tipped too. We fell in each other’s arms into the abyss of pleasure. By the time the world came back into view, I was still in Parker’s arms, and he was in mine.
Our sweat-slicked skin stuck together. Our chests heaved in sync, trying to catch our breaths. Our mouths still pressed to each other’s flesh as if unwilling to part.
Prying my grip loose of his hair, I stroked my fingers down his back, just relishing the feel of him still stretching me, the feel of his naked skin under mine—a dream I wasn’t sure would ever come true.
“That,” he breathed, “was so much more than I ever expected.”
He finally managed to support himself and pull back enough to hold on to the condom and slip free. As soon as he was gone, I already wanted him back.
Tossing the condom in the trash, he returned to hold me in his arms, brushing my damp, tangled hair out of my face so he could reach my lips.
Our kisses were lazy and slow and just as good as the frantic.
“Hold on,” he muttered just before lifting me up and turning us to the bed. As gently as possible, he laid me back and rolled beside me.
“You, Nova Hearst, are wild.”
I rolled to my side, fingered the supernova tattoo along his ribs. “Nonsense. I’m just trying to keep up with the rock star.”
“Psh. You may kill me.”
“Hopefully not. I’d like a repeat soon.”
“Oh yeah?” He leaned forward and pecked my lips, nipping the bottom one. “I think I can stay alive for that.”
“Good.”
“How about you show me what you’re working on over there,” he nodded toward the notebook on my nightstand, “and then we can shower.”
“Mmm,” I hummed.
“Have you ever had shower sex?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Good. I’ve only been dreaming about it since that first time I walked in on you.”
