One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(55)

I make a needy sound in the back of my throat as I push up onto my tiptoes, trying to deepen our kiss.

“Fuck,” Parker growls, tearing his mouth from mine. “We’re supposed to be talking. That’s why I brought you here.”

“Funny,” I pant, clinging to his shoulders. “I thought you brought me here to see whether you could get to third base.”

His eyebrows waggle. “What are my odds?”

“Slim to none.”

“How about second?”

“Not likely.”

“Figured as much.” His mouth lands on the tip of my nose as he gently pushes me back to create a little distance. “Come on. Sit with me for a minute. And try not to be too grabby with the goods. I’m not a piece of meat, Zoe.”

“You’re the worst.”

He laughs as he leads me down to the front row of seats, right on the edge of the wall. I don’t fight him. As much as I’d like to get naked with him, the top of the Green Monster on a freezing December night is really not the appropriate locale for that.

We settle onto two metal seats, purposely leaving a few inches between our bodies. Our only point of contact is Parker’s hand enveloping mine. His large fingers trace the small bones of my wrist as we settle in, and just that light touch sends flares of sensation through me like electricity. Trying to control my hormones, I prop my feet up on the rail and sigh as I take in the dark field below us.

“It’s so f*cking cool up here.”

Parker nods. “When I was a kid, I always dreamed my dad would take me to a game here. He never managed to find the time.” His shoulders lift in a small shrug. “That probably sounds totally cliché.”

“It’s not,” I say softly. “There’s nothing cliché about wanting good parents.”

“I did my best, trying to raise Phoebe after our mom died. But when you’re eleven years old and suddenly you’ve got to be an adult, a parent… you don’t get to be a kid anymore.”

I look over at him, this beautiful man who I’ve misjudged over and over since the first moment we met, and feel his words sink into me like a blade.

“I know what it’s like to have your childhood taken away,” I murmur after a few minutes. “And I’m sorry — about your mom. About everything.”

Parker’s thumb strokes the fragile flesh on the inside of my wrist. “It was a long time ago.”

“Maybe,” I murmur, staring hard at the pitcher’s mound. “But there are some scars even time can’t heal.”

He doesn’t press me for details, even though he could. He’s revealed much more about himself than I expected, and I haven’t returned the favor. Not remotely.

Instead, he just slides his arm around the back of my chair and tugs me closer. I let my head fall onto his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin and listening to the strong pulse in his neck, and for a while we don’t say anything at all.

When Jim comes up and tells us his shift is over, we walk in silence down the steps back to the car. And this time, I don’t complain that he’s holding my hand. In fact, I twine my fingers tighter with his and tell myself I’d be an idiot to ever let go.





13





The Floodgates




“Take a left.”

Parker turns the car onto my street and I watch his jaw clench tighter.

“Just up ahead.” I point out the old piano factory. “That’s my building.”

He glances at me. “That’s not a building. It’s a crack den.”

“It’s perfectly safe!”

“Zoe.” He pulls the Porsche to a stop at the curb. “You shouldn’t be living here.”

“So, it’s not the greatest neighborhood.” I shrug. “Just because it’s not a multimillion dollar yacht doesn’t mean I have to move.”

“There are two drug deals going on in the alley behind us.”

I hesitate. “Three, actually, if you count the dealer behind the dumpster…”

Parker shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“You just want an invitation upstairs.”

“That’s true,” he admits. “But only eighty percent because I want to see you naked. That last twenty percent strictly wants to check your windows and doors to make sure they lock properly.”

“What a gentleman,” I drawl, rolling my eyes.

“Zoe.” His voice is soft. “I’m not going to push you. Ever. Yeah, I want you — your body, your mouth, your hands on me. I want you so bad it hurts. But I also want your mind. I want to know the secrets behind your eyes, and what makes you sad, and why you’re so damn determined to walk through life alone. And I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that.” His heated eyes lock on my mouth. “I’ll wait. Until you’re ready. I might not be any good at it, but I’ll wait.”

By the time he’s done talking, my thighs are pressed tight together and I’m feeling a little feverish.

Taking a deep breath, I lean into his space and whisper, “And what if I’m ready now?”

I see the flash of a grin, the flare of desire in his eyes, and then he’s out of the car. I’ve barely gotten my seatbelt off when he yanks open my door and pulls me onto the curb.