Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(36)

“Why wouldn’t you tell me you have drug dealers after you?”

My body froze in response to his random question, and angst blossomed in my chest. My heaven had been replaced with hell again from a sentence. “How do you know that?” I continued to trace his chest with my finger.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “Gabe and Trevor. Correct?”

I pushed away from him and covered my body with the sheets. “I’m not telling you anything until you tell me how you know.”

I watched his Adam’s apple jolt as he swallowed, watching me carefully. “I called Cheryl.”

“You what?”

He winced at my objection but made no attempt to apologise. “I need to know everything in order to help you, Evelyn.”

I smacked the bed with my palm. “No, you don’t. You’re prying. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Of course it does,” he argued. “You honestly think I’m going to let these men threaten you?”

I held my hand up to my mouth as I looked away. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

“Neither do they.” His tone was dark, menacing. I wasn’t sure I liked it. And I wasn’t sure I liked Parks interfering in my business behind my back. But the more I yelled, the more determined he was, so I tried a softer approach. Shifting to be near him again, I placed my hand on his chest. “Wade, he’s dangerous. Please leave this alone. This is my shit. Not yours.”

“Anyone who hurts you, Princess, hurts me. You’re wasting your breath.”

That time I couldn’t control my temper. “I’m trying to keep that part of my life away from this part of my life. You go interfering, then my darkness and light will collide, and you’re the only person that can stop that happening.”

He kissed my forehead and pulled me into him, ignoring my resistance. “You’re right, I can stop that happening. And I will.”

“That’s not what I meant, Parks.”

“Wade,” he growled, pouncing on me, pinning my hands above my head, and kissing me so deeply that the back of my head pressed into the mattress. “Tell me,” he questioned before giving the tip of my nose a quick lick, “why did you ask me to punish you?”

Whoa. Change of course. “You punish me when I misbehave. You know I love it.”

He dipped to take my earlobe between his teeth and licked around the shell. “That’s not what I meant. Before. The first time.”

“Because I hated myself. I was drinking and pushing everyone away. I thought I needed it.” He paused thoughtfully, so I spoke again to encourage his curiosity. “Wouldn’t you have done it if I told you?”

Looking regretful, he pushed off his palm and sat upright in bed, pushing a firm hand through his hair. He seemed angry. “Punish you because you hated yourself? Never.”

My deep frown showed my confusion. “Then why do you punish me?”

“You’re telling me you don’t like it now?”

“I like it when it’s due. I like it when it’s playful. I get it. I don’t like it when you’re angry and so mad you intend to hurt me. That’s the part I don’t understand, because you won’t tell me.”

He turned his back and pushed off the bed. Seemed he couldn’t look at me while delivering his reply. “I’ve told you, discipline is a part of me.”

“I get that, but why?”

There was another brief pause. A pause that told me he didn’t want to resume the conversation he bloody started. Evidently, it was only because he didn’t like it when I flipped the spotlight onto him.

When he came back to bed, I pulled back the sheets and welcomed his warm body settling next to mine. “Princess, I don’t want to tell you things you don’t need to know. I’m not going to bombard your mind with my shit when you have enough of your own.”

My hands went to his cheeks, cupping his gorgeous, intense face. “You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”

He wrapped his fingers around my wrists. “Yes, I do.” A quick kiss to my lips cut off the conversion.

We soaked each other up, adoring with our eyes. I occasionally had to remind myself I was one seriously lucky lady.

“What are you humming, Princess?” He gave me that captivating, adorable smile as he swiped my hair from my face when it fell across my eyes. We were so relaxed that I’d slipped into my humming without noticing.


“A song my nan used to sing me to make me fall asleep.” I didn’t realise my breath had caught until a tear blocked my vision.

“What is it?” he murmured.

“It’s “Smile” by Nat King Cole.”

“Your nan liked that song?” His tone was fond.

“Yes. I always remember the part about smiling even though you had a broken heart. She’s the reason I was so strong. I always smiled when my heart was broken. Always laughed when I didn’t want to. I lived when I had nothing to live for because she made me do that.” My eyes dropped from his gaze, and my throat suddenly began to swell. Recalling those times was not an easy task. “I smile because it hides my sadness. A smile can hide a problem, and it was what I adapted to in aid to get by.”

Hearing the compassion tangled in Parks’s inhale set me off. Feeling disheartened, I burrowed into his chest so as not to catch the pity in his eyes. Neither did I want to fall victim to my tears and let them expose me.