One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(54)

“Maybe he doesn’t want me as an enemy.”

Parker’s lips quirk up. “I’ll bet that’s true. Still… just be careful.”

“I’m always careful. Plus, I’ve got Luca to help. He’ll watch out for me.”

The air gets a little tense.

“I’m sure he will,” he says after a very long minute.

“Parker.” I wait until he looks over at me. “Luca is like my brother. My family. There’s nothing romantic between us.”

Our eyes hold for a suspended moment and I can tell he’s reading me to see if I’m being sincere. After a moment, he nods and I know he’s accepted my words as truth. For now, at least.

“So…” I say, eager to change the subject to something less awkward. “What’s the coolest place you’ve ever been?”

He dips his head back to look up at the stars and exhales sharply. “I could never pick just one. Though this place, right here with you…” His eyes find mine. “Top Five. No question.”

I look away swiftly, focusing on the view and ignoring my thudding heartbeat. “You must be about ready to sail off into the sunset, huh? You’ve been here, what — seven, eight months?”

“Nine.” Parker’s voice is thoughtful. “You know, when my shithead father went to prison and the whole damn WestTech empire — an empire I’ve never wanted jack-shit to do with, mind you — was in jeopardy, I knew there was no choice but to come back. And then Phoebe asked me to stay. She needed me here. So I sucked it up and I stayed.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. I know how it feels when you’re trapped in a situation out of your control. That cornered, inescapable feeling — it can drive you mad.

His voice gets lower. “Since I got here, I’ve been counting the minutes until I can leave again.”

Inexplicable disappointment snakes through me at the thought of him leaving. I hope it isn’t visible on my face, which I’m keeping carefully averted.

He slides a little closer. “Or… I was counting the minutes. Until I saw you.”

I try not to let my knees quake as I feel the warmth of his side press against mine.

“Me?” I breathe, finally looking over at him.

His eyes trap mine immediately and I see they’re dangerously soft again. He reaches out slowly, like I’m a horse who might buck if he moves too fast, and tucks a rogue strand of hair behind my ear.

“There’s this thrill I get, when I go on an adventure. Climb a peak, explore a city, set down wheels on a dirt runway in a place I’ve never been before. I’ve spent my whole life chasing that feeling.” He pauses. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who makes me feel that rush while I’m standing still. Looking at you, I don’t need to chase some crazy whim. You…” He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe he’s saying this shit out loud. “You’re a huge adventure in a five foot, hundred pound package.”

For a minute, I don’t respond. I can’t. All I can do is stand there as his words wash over me, listening to the pulse pounding between my ears and trying not to let my eyes water.

Zoe Bloom doesn’t cry over boys. Even boys who say things so sweet, she’s worried she’ll get used to hearing them and be miserable for the rest of her life when they inevitably stop.

I push that voice away. Force back the tears stinging behind my eyes. Brace myself for impact.

And then I take a tiny step forward, so there’s only the smallest sliver of space left between our bodies. So I’m completely invading his space. He’s so tall, I have to crane my head back to keep his eyes on mine.

“A good adventure or a bad adventure?” I whisper haltingly.

I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, and I get the sense his control is hanging by a thread.

“You are my favorite kind of adventure,” he says simply as his arms come up around me and he crushes his mouth down on mine.

Heat explodes between us. The fire that started burning last week when we met never truly went out. It was always there in the back of my mind, embers just waiting for a spark to reignite the inferno. Parker’s mouth moves over mine in greedy, uncompromising sweeps and I return his kiss with equal fervor.

My hands grip his shoulders; his tug at my waist. I’m plastered against him, every curve, every atom in my body possessed by his, and it’s still not close enough.

Sexual attraction is a powerful drug.

It’s not something you can force or manufacture or hope to foster with enough time or practice or little blue pills. It’s elemental.

I don’t care how much you love someone’s personality, their sense of humor, their compassion, their every redeemable quality… if you don’t want to tear their clothes off, at the end of the day it’s never going to work out. Without that fundamental attraction, two people can’t last.

Longing. Desire. Lust.

Parker and I have it in spades.

We may not always communicate well with words, but our bodies speak a language all their own — that much is clear from just the way he touches me.

This sheer, unstoppable pull I feel for him is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It goes through me like a needle, threads into every part of my existence until I can’t think of anything except the sensation of his hands against my skin.