“And you think you do?”
“Well, I sure as hell am not the one in the room wanting to fuck her.”
Whoa! “Oh, shut the fuck up. We both know that’s the only reason why you’re doing this,” he shouts. “And for someone who cares so much about her well-being, you sure as hell didn’t mind when she was with that jackass. Tate treated her like shit!”
Parker punches him and then throws him against the wall. “Just because you think he didn’t deserve her didn’t mean my best friend deserved to die.” He then throws him out.
Parker smoothes his shirt and then sits on the couch. “Let’s watch a movie.”
I look around the room and bite my bottom lip nervously. What the fuck just happened? It all happened so fast, I’m still trying to process it. “Maybe I should just go.”
He stands quickly. “No…”
“I don’t wanna cause problems.” There’s already so much going on. Everyone is having problems with Tate’s death, and I feel like I’m making stuff worse.
“You’re not,” he says softly. He sighs running his hand down the back of his neck. “I…” He pauses and closes his eyes. “I have this feeling…” He fists his hand and places it on his chest. His eyes squeeze tighter shut. “I have this feeling that won’t go away. No matter what I do.” He swallows and licks his lips. “I can’t help but need you here.” He opens his eyes, and I stare deeply into them. They look so soft, so lost. As if he’s trying to figure out an answer to a problem that he knows he can’t solve. “I have this overwhelming feeling to protect you.” He takes a step toward me. “I would never step over that line with you, Missy. I hope you know that.” I nod, somewhat stunned by his words. “But I feel better knowing you’re here. In my reach. I need to see that you’re okay. My best friend loved you. And I feel like it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
“Thank you,” I say numbly. “But you can’t take care of me forever, Parker. I can’t stay here forever.” I place my arms out and gesture to this house. “I need to move on. We need to move on.” Just saying those words rip my heart apart.
He straightens his shoulders and his eyes harden. “I agree with you.” He lifts his hands, mocking me. “Now go into his room and say that.” His words are spoken softly, but they are meant as a challenge. A challenge that he knows I can’t accept.
“I can’t…”
He takes a step toward me and reaches out for me. I step into him without thought. He wraps his arms around me, and I inhale his scent. It’s so opposite of what Tate smelled like. “But my point is that one day you will be able to. And I’m gonna be right here to hold your hand.”
He sounds so sure, but I’m nothing but skeptical.
CHAPTER FIVE
I can’t tell you how many days Tate has been dead. All I can tell you is that it still hurts just as bad. I still stay locked up in his house. I still sit on the couch every night that Parker goes to work, waiting for him to come home. He makes sure his phone is always charged and he calls me when he is gonna be late. It’s weird. It’s like we’re married without the actual aspect of being married. We don’t sleep in the same bed—he sleeps on the couch and lets me have his bed. We don’t kiss. We don’t have sex, but he does hold me when I have a breakdown. And he allows me to hold him when he has his. He has had a lot less than I have. I still don’t eat much. Parker brings food home and tries to cook for me, but I don’t eat more than a few bites. He jokes about me going outside and having the wind blow me away because I’ve lost so much weight. But that is pretty much what my life is in a nutshell. Depressing. Others don't come around us. They all have their own problems. I think we’re all afraid to be in one place at the same time, knowing that shit would hit the fan. Words would be thrown like candy at a parade. Punches will be given out like sprinkles on a cake. So, we all just stay secluded in our own caves and hide in the darkness.
So once again, I find myself sitting on the couch staring at the TV as it plays CMT. Have you ever really watched country music videos? There are all so sad, yet I can’t stop watching. I’ve gone through an entire box of Kleenex. They litter the floor and couch around me. Even Puss Puss has a few on her as she lays on the couch next to me. My throat’s raw. My head pounds and my mind wanders to what I would be doing right now if Tate was alive.
I hear the door to Parker’s room open and I grab the remote turning the TV off quickly. I wipe the tears from my eyes and give him a smile when he walks in. “What are you doing?” his voice rumbles from just waking.
“Nothing,” I say. Last time he caught me watching CMT, he turned it to BET, told me to get up off my ass and dance around. He said I needed to stop watching stuff that makes me think of Tate. Everything makes me think of Tate!
He looks over at the blank TV as he runs a hand over his hair. I can’t help but notice how low his pajamas pants sit on his hips. And the fact that he has no shirt on. Parker and I have become very comfortable between one another. It’s strangely odd.
“Were you watching CMT?” he asks.
I wipe my face once more and then give him a big smile. “Missy…” He sighs heavily as he looks around at all the used Kleenexes. His eyes slide over to the closed door that stands at the end of the hallway and my back stiffens.
“Parker,” I say in warning. So far, he hasn’t pushed me. He hasn’t told me to move on. Or to get over Tate. That’s why I’ve become so close with him, he’s letting me take my time.
He takes a step to me and I push myself further into the couch. “Don’t,” I say and the single word gets caught in my throat.
“I think it’s time,” he says walking over to me.
“Please don’t do this,” I say as tears threaten my eyes. “You can’t make me.” I shake my head quickly.
“You need to face it.”
My mouth drops open. “How can you say that after what you said to Braxton?” He defended me. He punched his brother and then literally pushed him out of the house because he was trying to push me to do something that I didn’t want to do.
He comes to a stop in front of me and kneels down. He grabs my hands and they shake uncontrollably. “All I’ve wanted to do is help you, Missy. And I feel like this will help you.”
“It won’t.” My voice trembles, mimicking my hands.
“It’s been a month, Missy.”
“No,” I say, not believing that.
He nods. “He’s been gone a month today, Missy.” He licks his lips and takes in a breath, preparing himself for whatever he is about to say. “I’ve been right here the whole time.” His hands squeeze mine in reassurance. “And I’m gonna continue to be here. To hold you. To remind you that he loved you. But it’s time.”
How has a month gone by? It feels like he just died yesterday. I can still remember the smell of his blood. I can still feel his blood seeping through my clothes. It has done nothing but consume me. Control me. What will entering his room change? We made love in that room. Well, before he pretty much told me to fuck off. I slept with him side by side in that room. He may have lived in this house, but I lived in that room with him. That was our special place.
Parker stands and my heart starts to pound in my chest. My breaths come quicker and my mind races. Numbly I allow Parker to pull me to my feet and he pulls me into his side. Gently he starts to guide me out of the living room and into the hallway and feel my knees weaken. My body physically tries to pull away on its own but Parker holds on tight.
I close my eyes and try to take deep, calming breaths but Tate’s unique smell hits me. It’s not an over the top smell. It’s just clean. Fresh. And it instantly brings back memories.
He takes a step toward me, and his upper lip turns up in a playful smirk. He moves slowly yet confident as if he wants to draw out my unease. “Are you nervous, Missy?” he asks, coming to stand in front of me.
My heart pounds in my chest wildly as I look up at him and try to smile, but it just makes him chuckle. “Don’t be.” He reaches up and pl
aces his hand in my hair. I close my eyes and take a relaxing breath. Just the feel of him soothes me.
“Tell me, Missy. Why are you here if you’re so nervous?” he murmurs.
I can feel his hot breath on my lips as he whispers and I moan. “Because you told me to,” I say breathlessly.
“Are you telling me that you’ll do anything I tell you to?” I continue to keep my eyes shut, and I can hear the excitement in that question.
“Yes.” My body shakes. Did I just say that?
He pulls my head back and gives me a soft kiss on my neck. “Good,” he says before he releases me.
I open my eyes and lick my lips. He stands in front of me still dressed in his basketball shorts with that same hard look on his face that he always has. It makes my stomach flip in anticipation of what he is thinking. He keeps himself so guarded—it’s hard to see what he is thinking.
I stand there in the silence as he stares at me. What is he waiting for? Am I supposed to be doing something? Whatever I did in Vegas was alcohol induced. I don’t know if I can be that person right now.
I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and take a step toward him. A man like Tate wants a woman, not some little girl with no experience. I’m gonna have to fake it. I take another step, closing the space, and reach down before I pull my tank top up and over my head.
I’ll make the first move. Because I want it. That’s why I’m here. Not because he told me to but because I wanted to come.
Before my shirt even hits the floor he pushes me up against the wall with his tall body as his hands slide up the side of my face, pushing my hair back in the process. “Tell me to stop,” he says hoarsely.
“No,” I whisper. My body is already trembling with want for him. Needing him.
“I won’t be able to be soft.” He pushes me harder into the wall as he growls, and I whimper.
“I don’t want soft,” I say honestly. I want all of him. Every bit of him. That’s one thing about Tate. He thinks he’s not good enough for me. He thinks he needs to be someone else. Doesn’t he understand I’m already in love with the real him?
“Missy,” his voice breaks, and I know his control is breaking as well. He lowers his head to mine; resting his forehead on mine. “What are you doing to me?” he breathes.
“Nothing yet,” I respond running my hands up his back. I allow my fingernails to dig in and his body shudders. I can feel his muscles tighten as I make my way back down his back.
“What do you want Missy?” he growls, and his usual dark expression doesn’t change.
“Remind me what it was like,” I whisper, trying to pull him closer to me. His body heat is setting my skin on fire.
“Need me to remind you what it’s like to be fucked by a real man?” he growls, and I gasp. “Tell me, Missy—Braxton not cutting it anymore?”
My mind screams shut up but my insides clench as he speaks of Braxton. I like the jealous side of him.
I suck in a deep breath and lick my lips before I answer. “Tate…” His name is spoken softly, showing how weak I truly am for him, and he rewards me with a slow and sexy smile showcasing those beautiful straight white teeth.
He runs his thumb slowly along my jawline. “Don’t you?” His deep voice sends a shiver through me.
I swallow nervously and then nod my head. I wonder if he knows that he already owns every part of me. “Please.” My voice is quiet.
He pauses and his blue eyes darken. His body tenses and he shakes his head. “Don’t beg for it. Fucking demand it. Tell me what you want and then make me believe it.”
I inhale sharply. Demand it? I’m not good at dirty talk. What do I say exactly? “I want you to fuck me.”
His lips turn up slightly at the corners at how childish I must have sounded. “Not good enough, sweetheart.” He drops his arms and takes a step back.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing for his arm. I pull him back into me and look up into his eyes and tell him exactly what I’ve been wanting. “Fuck me like you’ve wanted me as much as I have you.”
“Have you dreamed of me touching you again?” he questions, running his hands up my sides.
“Yes,” I sigh.
“Tell me what I do to you in your dreams.” He pushes his erection into my stomach, and I whimper.
I swallow nervously. What doesn’t he do in my dreams? “You kiss me,” I say leaning back against the wall.
“Where?” he demands.
“Everywhere.”
His hand runs down my side and slowly slides between my legs. He cups my sex and I moan. “Do I kiss you here?” He presses his palm against me and the motion has me standing up on tiptoes. “Do I?”
I take in a deep breath as my sex clenches with the image of him between my legs.
His other hand makes its way up the back of my neck and he grabs a hold of my hair at the base of my neck and he pulls on it. I gasp.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he breathes against my lips, “do I fuck your pussy with my tongue?” His tongue comes out and slowly runs the length of my lips teasingly.
My sex tightens at those words, and I start to pant. He pushes his tongue between my lips, and I open my lips to allow him easier access. My tongue dances with his as his hand massages my sex over my yoga pants.
Geez, why did I wear clothes?
His hand stops its sweet torture. “Say it. Say, baby fuck my pussy with your tongue.”
Doesn’t matter how turned on I am—how bad I want him to do just that, I still blush at his words.
I shake my head, not wanting to do it. It won’t sound sexy. It will sound childish, and he’ll laugh at me.
He pulls away and places both hands on either side of my face, holding it still as he lowers his face down to mine. “Don’t be shy, Missy.” His dark blue eyes roam my face.
“I’m not…” He lowers a hand to my chest and he pulls down my bra, showcasing my breast.
I gasp as my hands instinctively covers my breast. He grabs a hold of them and pins them to the wall by my head. He gives me a wicked grin. “You are,” he argues, and I try to remove my hands from his grasp. To my surprise he lets go. I go to wrap my arms around his neck, but he drop to his knees before me.
I go to take a step back as he grabs the waistband of my yoga pants but I’m up against the wall. “Step out,” he demands once they are down by my ankles. I do as he says quickly, and he throws them over to the side of the room.
He stands and wraps an arm around me picking me up. He turns around, tosses me onto the bed, and crawls on top of me.
“Tate…”
He places a finger over my mouth quieting me as he stares down at me. “You will tell me what you want,” he says, and my eyes widen. He removes his finger and runs his hand down the middle of my chest. His body slowly makes its way down my body to where he lies between my legs.
Placing his hands under my knees he pulls my legs up and spreads them apart. They shake with anticipation as he stares down at me with those dark blue eyes. His finger dips into my panties, and I whimper, arching my back. “You want me to tease you, sweetheart?” he asks, and I lift my hips needing friction against my sex. “I have all night.”
I turn my head from side to side. He’s going to torture me.
He chuckles.
“Tell me,” he whispers, lowering his head between my legs. I jerk when I feel his lips on my sex through my panties.
“Tate,” I cry out arching my back. My body is wound so tight it needs a release. “Fuck me…” I pant. “Fuck me with your tongue.”
I’m jolted out of that memory as Parker lets go of me. I stand on shaky legs as he walks over to Tate’s bed and sits down.
I take the chance to look around as the knot forms once again in my throat. Everything looks the same as I remember it. But it has an eerie feel to it. His room is cold. I wrap my arms around myself as goosebumps erupt over my body. I’ve never believed in ghosts, but it’s as if he’s here. Brooding. Mad at Parker and me for being in hi
s room.
Parker reaches over and opens his nightstand drawer. “Parker,” I hiss running over to him to stop him. As I get to him, he holds up a picture to me. The tears fall down my face as a waterfall when I notice the picture. It’s of Tate and me taking a nap on his couch in the living room. Parker had taken it one day for us. I can’t believe he kept this.
I fall onto the bed and lay down on my side as I curl up into a ball. Parker reaches out to comfort me, but I pull away. “Please. Leave,” I cry out closing my eyes tightly. “I need to be alone.” Because alone is all that I feel.
I once told Tate that we all have things that haunt us. Now he is that thing. I see him no matter what I do. I hear him no matter who is talking to me. He consumes me now just as much as he did when he was alive, but now it’s worse. Because he doesn’t get his happiness. He doesn’t get his happy ending. Even if I wasn’t the girl to give it to him, he will never experience that, and that is what breaks my heart the most.
Another fight we once had over a guy who hit on me at a bar comes to mind.
I follow after Tate on shaky legs. What the heck just happened? We went from having a great time to him beating the shit out of a guy with a helmet and his fist in a matter of seconds.
I climb up into his truck and close the door as we leave the bar. I push my body into it, wanting as much space as possible from him.
He looks over at me quickly and notices how I have smashed myself up against the door. “Scared?” His deep voice is clipped as he pulls out of the parking spot.
“Shouldn’t I be?” I ask. If that was his intention, then he achieved it.
“That had nothing to do with you,” he snaps, merging onto the highway.
“So you beat him up over your mother?” I ask, getting angry.
“Quit talking about my mother.” His voice rises, and I snap.
“No,” I scream, slamming my hands down on my legs. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demand. “Why would you hit that guy? You could have killed him,” I state furious.
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