River Bodies (Northampton County #1)(52)

“I never told him that I didn’t want any contact with you.” Of course her father had manipulated them both. She should’ve known. “I never knew you came looking for me. He never told me.” Her brow furrowed. If what Parker was saying was true, she needed to be honest with him too. “When I left, things at home weren’t good, and things between us weren’t the same. Everything felt different. I was confused about so much. I needed a clean break. I just . . .”

“Becca, listen, the thing between us, I was a stupid sixteen-year-old boy. I was afraid of my own feelings. And the other girls.” He shrugged. “I guess they felt safe.”

She nodded. They’d both been so young. It had happened so long ago. She didn’t know what made her do it, but she reached across the table, took his hand. She saw the yearning in his eyes. And all she knew was right then, right there, she wanted to touch him. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted his body close. There was no other place she wanted to be. He must’ve read her mind, because he stood, pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. He was so tall she had to stand on tiptoes to reach around his neck. She pressed against him. He squeezed her tight as though he never wanted to let her go.

They held each other for a long time. Her body responded to his touch in ways she never would’ve guessed. If she leaned back even a little, she would kiss him, and if she kissed him, she didn’t think she would be able to stop. Her body ached for more of him, for him to touch her in all the places that made her weak and out of breath. But there was Matt. He didn’t know about Matt. And he didn’t know about John being at the river, what she may or may not have seen, what it might mean to his case. It was the reason she’d searched for him in the first place. But she couldn’t bring it up now. She didn’t know how.

Her muscles constricted, and she felt tense suddenly. Parker must’ve sensed the change in her. He pulled away.

They separated. He looked a little embarrassed, apologetic. He was trembling.

“I . . . I,” she stuttered. “I should go.”

He ran his hand through his hair, nodded.

But she couldn’t get her feet to move, and when she met his gaze, she found herself reaching for him again—she couldn’t help it—and he pulled her into his arms. This time she kissed him long and hard. Before she could stop herself from going any further, not that she wanted to stop, they’d moved into the bedroom, fumbling with each other’s clothes. She didn’t have time to catch her breath, to think.

She’d forgotten who she was, where she came from, but in Parker’s arms, in his bed, it all came rushing back. His skin, his touch, the smell of his sweat, the sweetness in his breath as though he’d been sipping honeysuckle that grew wild along the riverbank, it all reminded her of what was once good, what was once home. There wasn’t any of the anger or the guilt or the apology of another woman between them. Becca wasn’t trying to reclaim what was hers or stake a claim of any kind. It was just her and Parker and no one else.

But there were other things there too, darker things, slithering on the periphery of her mind, things she had promised to never talk about, things she’d kept hidden even from herself.



Becca sat up abruptly. This was a mistake. But how could a mistake feel so right? No, this was wrong. She was no better than Matt. Or her father.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Now?” Parker leaned on his elbows. His chest bare, his abs sculpted. But it was his strong thighs between her legs that she was thinking about that made the heat on her neck rise as she pulled on her clothes as quickly as she could.

“I wasn’t supposed to be gone this long.” She made up the first excuse she could think of. “I have to get back to my dad.” She kept talking while she zipped her jeans, clasped her bra, tugged her sweatshirt on. “I’m supposed to be helping Jackie.”

“Okay,” he said, a little put off. “Are you okay? I mean, are you okay with what happened?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Totally. I’m fine.” She pointed to the bedroom door. “Can we talk about this later? I really have to go.”

“Sure,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

She raced through his cabin, threw herself out the front door and into the dark night. She hurried along the enchanted walkway, as she had come to think of it now. It wasn’t until she was in her Jeep and a few miles up the road that she pulled over to collect herself. What did she think she was doing? She looked over her shoulder.

Maybe she should turn around, fall back into Parker’s arms, burrow deep in his warmth, a place where she could hide before the outside world inserted itself between them, tore them apart. But she had run out on him for reasons that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her.

She rolled the windows down, in need of fresh air. The sound of rapids rushed by; she had to be close to Dead Man’s Curve.

Tangled with the noise of the river was the rumbling of an engine growing louder and louder as it came closer and closer. Her breath caught as the single headlight of a motorcycle approached from behind. The biker slowed, the engine purring alongside the Jeep, the rider stopping long enough to look inside the driver’s-side window. She couldn’t make out his face in the dark, but she knew it was John. Was he following her? Spying on her? Or was this some kind of warning, because she knew something she shouldn’t? He nodded ever so slightly, revving the engine, then speeding away. In the next second, he was gone.