One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(70)

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I should’ve…” More tears spill.

He stares at me and I can’t decipher the look in his eyes. “Do you want this, Zoe? This beautiful, messy, crazy life? Because I’ve seen what depression does to people. I’ve watched it tear families limb from limb. My family… When my mom…” His jaw clenches tight as he bites back words he can’t let himself speak. “I have to know you want to be here. That you’re still willing to fight. Everything is fixable… but you have to want to fix it. You have to want to be here.” He hauls in a breath to steady himself. “You have to want it, darling. More than all the shitty days and the heartbreaks and the awful f*cking horror of losing people… you have to want to live anyway.”

“I do.” My voice is shaky, but it’s full of truth. “Parker… I want it more than anything.”

He doesn’t respond and, for a moment, I worry he doesn’t believe me. But then, his arms come up and he crushes me against his chest in an embrace that steals my breath.

“Okay, Zoe,” he murmurs against my hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

And as he holds me close, reminding me of all the reasons the world is pretty f*cking amazing, I feel the weight of something I’ve been carrying around for twenty years lift off my shoulders.

This beautiful, messy, crazy life with this beautiful, messy, crazy man?

I want it.





16





The Hero




Later that night, I wake to Parker’s head between my legs. It’s late, the middle of the night, but any sense of fatigue or residual anxiety from the day before is driven out by the sensation on his mouth, moving with expertise. I feel needy under his touch, with my hands in his hair and my body totally at his mercy. It doesn’t take long for him to send me barreling toward the brink of pleasure. My toes curl, my hips arch, and I feel myself starting to losing control.

“Come up here,” I pant, trying desperately to form coherent thoughts as my orgasm builds.

He grunts something unintelligible, never pausing in his efforts.

Holy shit.

“I want to see your eyes when I come, honey,” I breathe. “Please, Parker.”

At that, he goes still.

“Fuck,” he mutters, crawling up my body, planting kisses as he moves from my thighs to my stomach to my breasts to the column of my throat. When his face comes level with mine, I see restraint and passion warring in his eyes.

“You can’t say my name like that and expect me to stay in control.” His voice is thick with need.

“I want to finish together,” I tell him honestly. “I want you inside me.”

“This is supposed to be about you.” His voice is hoarse. “I’ll survive.”

“I know you’ll survive. That’s not the point.” I arch up and kiss him. And then, I say something I’ve never said before. Something, if I’m being entirely honest, I never thought I’d find myself saying.

“Make love to me, Parker.”

His eyes darken as his control snaps. A few seconds later, he pushes inside me, holding my gaze the entire time, and I look up at him knowing we can never go back to being strangers. It’s not just sex. Not just passion or pleasure.

It’s Parker.

Somehow in the space of a week, he’s got both hands wrapped firmly around my heart.

I have a feeling he’s not going to let go.

Not ever.

And strangely… I’m okay with that.



* * *



Christmas Eve dawns bright and cold outside the loft windows. I leave Parker asleep in my bed and make my way into the bathroom. In the fluorescent light, the faint bruising around my neck from where my attacker held me looks even uglier than it did last night. Thankfully, the thin slice wound just below my jawline isn’t visible unless I tilt my head back.

I hop in the shower, turning the water almost as hot as it will go, and stand under the torrent for a while. It’s the anniversary of my parents’ death – by all accounts, the worst day of my year.

And yet… the dreadful weight that usually fills my chest from the moment my eyes open on this day simply isn’t there. Instead, there’s a light, fluttery feeling inside my soul, crowding out the sadness.

I know that feeling has everything to do with the tall, bronze-haired man sleeping in my bed.

As though he’s heard me call him in my thoughts, a few seconds later Parker steps into the shower behind me and slides his arms around my stomach.

“Good morning.” His voice is still husky with sleep as he plants a kiss against my neck.

“Morning,” I breathe, leaning into him.

“Are you okay?” He pulls back. “Sorry. Stupid question. I know today is impossible for you.”

I turn in his arms and loop my hands around his neck. “Surprisingly… I’m okay.”

His brows lift.

“Really.” I push up onto my tiptoes and try plant a kiss on his lips — except I’m too short to reach. “Bend down, you giant human, so I can kiss you.”

His eyes flash. “I’ll do you one better.”

Lifting me so my legs go around his waist, his hips pin my body as he backs me up against the tile wall. His lips find mine and I get my kiss… plus a hell of a lot more, as his hands move against my wet skin.