Need You Tonight

by Marquita Valentine

  It takes a lot more than a fucking reach around to get me going. “Not yet.”

  “Impressive.” She takes the cue chalk and rolls it on top of the stick. “Always heard Cole was the one with the biggest package.”

  “Wouldn’t know.” Why do women think talking about another man’s junk, especially their brother’s, will incite us to chase after them harder? I’m not that desperate to prove her wrong and purge Brooklyn from my mind.

  Dani laughs. It’s nice and throaty, full of promises I wouldn’t have to make her keep. “Why don’t we make things interesting? If I win, then you go home with me.”

  “And if I win?”

  “I go home with you.”

  I consider her challenge, but before I can respond, my phone buzzes. “Hold that thought,” I say before I glance at the screen. Unable to identify the number, I frown and answer the call. “Hello?”

  “Parker—this is Brooklyn.”

  Great. My whole reason for going out tonight is on the phone with me. Dani taps her pool stick on the floor and gives me a crooked smile.

  “How did you get this number?” I practically snarl.

  There’s a pause, a long one, and I think she’s hung up on me. “You left it with the key, on the piece of paper under it.”

  “And?” I shoot Dani a look. She mouths the words ex-girlfriend, and I shake my head.

  “I think my hot water heater is broken, “she says in a small voice that makes me feel like an ass. “Rae told me to call you, but if you’re busy, I’ll pay someone—”

  “I’ll handle it. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” Abruptly ending our call, I hang up my pool stick and walk over to Dani. “I have to go.”

  She tilts her head to one side. “I guess I should be flattered that you don’t look too happy about leaving.”

  If she only knew that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the woman waiting for me, but I had never been the kind of guy to talk about it, and I wasn’t going to start now.

  “Thanks for understanding.” I leave before our conversation can go any further.

  *

  The closer I get to Brooklyn’s place, the faster my pulse races. I take a curve a little too sharply and have to slam down on the brakes. Glancing at the dash, I curse. I’d hit a forty-five mile per hour curve at seventy.

  “Holy fuck,” I mumble under my breath.

  What’s wrong with me? I don’t have a death wish, but with each passing day, I’m becoming more and more like my brother and less and less like myself—If I even know who I am anymore.

  Brooklyn’s SUV is parked beside the house, under a small lean-to. The porch lights are on, a consideration I don’t deserve. Cutting the engine, I get out and grab my tools from the truck bed before striding to the front door.

  Determined to get this over with as fast as possible, I knock and ring the doorbell at the same time.

  “Hey, it’s me, Parker Morgan,” I shout.

  The door swings open, and all that stands between us is screen door. My breath nearly whooshes out of me at the sight of her standing there, wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of baggy shorts. Her dark hair is pulled into loose pigtails. I don’t think I’ve seen a sexier sight.

  Her gaze rakes over me. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “I said I was.”

  She opens the screen door and steps back to let me inside. “Yeah, I heard,” she says dryly. “Come with me.”

  I follow her to the back of the kitchen, to a small closet off to one side. The door is propped open, and the single light bulb hanging down is blazing. Once I’d accidentally touched the thing and had gotten a small blister from the heat.

  “Why do you think it’s broken?”

  “Because I have no hot water to wash dishes or shower.”

  “Did you check the breaker?”

  “Yes.”

  Setting my toolbox down, I inspect the heater. It has to be at least twenty years old. “I’m surprised it’s worked this long.”

  “Do you think I’ll need to buy a new one?” she asks, clearly distraught.

  I shake my head. “If you did, then you’d get reimbursed. You’re renting the place, remember?”

  “Oh.” She lets out a shaky laugh. “It’s been a while since I didn’t have to worry about replacing things, and before then, Braden always took care of stuff like this.”

  The reminder of her husband makes me frown a little. I’m not upset with her. I’m pissed off at myself. For no good reason besides my own personal issues, I’ve been blowing hot and cold at her, instead of being an even-tempered, standup guy.

  I bend down to check the pilot light. It’s out. “Found your problem.”

  “You did?” She squats down next to me, our heads nearly touching.

  “Pilot’s out.”

  She groans. “I could have sworn I’d checked that before I called you. Sorry.”

  I glance at her. “It’s part of my job.”

  A wry smile covers her face. “It’s Thursday night. I’m sure you would rather be—” Once again, her gaze rakes over me, taking in my button-down shirt and dark jeans. Her cheeks heat. “You were on a date, weren’t you?” She smacks her hand over her mouth for a minute. “Ugh. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not. You should have told me.”

  Irritated at her apology, because it makes me feel like more of an ass, I growl, “If I had wanted you to know my personal life, Brooklyn, I would have told you.”

  She jerks her head a couple of times, forcing a smile on her face, but the hurt in her eyes is evident. What’s wrong with you? I ask myself for the second time that night. “Yeah. It really is none of my business. I just… if I had known, then I would have made do until you weren’t so busy.”

  Would have made do? Inwardly groaning, I light the pilot and stand. Brooklyn shoots to her feet. “Don’t apologize. Like I said, this is part of the job description.”

  “Right. Let me get out of your way,” she says and turns, only to bump into me and stumble backward.

  “Careful,” I admonish, my protective instincts coming out in full force as I grab her wrist to prevent her from falling, but her foot slips and she trips over my toolbox.

  Without thinking, I jerk her to me, our bodies colliding against one another in the cramped space. Her pretty eyes fly to my face and our gazes collide. There’s a hitch in her breath, just like when I’d helped her with her groceries.

  Neither of us moves an inch, and I don’t let go. Instead, I begin to caress her skin with my thumb, right against the pulse point on her wrist. It’s beating out of control, from almost falling or because I’m touching her, I’m not sure.

  “Parker,” she says softly.

  “Yeah,” I answer in a voice I barely recognize. I dip my head, needing to taste her. Needing to get the inevitable over with.

  “Let go of me.” Her sweet breath fans over my lips, and I freeze.

  My intentions had been noble. I hadn’t wanted her to fall, but now I don’t want to let her go. I want to keep her here, where she belongs, with her hot little body pressed to mine. My free hand settles on her hip and squeezes.

  “Please.” Tipping her head back, she licks her lips and it’s then I notice how badly her body is shaking in my arms. Her eyes are so wide that there’s hardly any color.

  “Don’t be scared,” I whisper. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.” I nip at her jaw and kiss my way up to her ear. Her skin is soft, hot, and tastes like heaven. There’s nothing artificial about her. Nothing demanding. “You like that?”

  “Oh, God. Yes.” Her hands slide up my arms, fingers curling around my biceps. She says my name, a little plea that makes me close my eyes.

  I suck in her earlobe and bite down gently, rocking my body against hers. Sliding my hand down her hip, I cup her firm ass and then glide my fingers down to her thigh to pull it up high and tight. I rock against her, making her head fall back on
a moan. Need builds inside of me.

  Pressing my hand against her lower back, I pick up the pace, rolling my hips, and making sure that my dick hits her in just the right spot.

  She whimpers a little, a small, helpless sound that makes me so hard I can barely think. I just want her. “That’s such a pretty little sound, baby. Make it for me again.”

  I feel her lips on my neck, the tentative lick of her tongue. Pleasure floods my system. My chest fucking heaves, like I’ve just lifted weights for the past hour and finally stopped. I cup her ass with both hands, rubbing against her… watching her cheeks flush and her white teeth come out to bite at her bottom lip.

  Suddenly, her hands come between us, pushing at my chest. “Don’t… Please. You can’t… I can’t. My—I’m still… widowed.”

  She makes no sense, only the catch in her voice bringing me out of my driving need. Sympathy replaces it as I remember how alone Brooklyn is in the world. Growing up with a sorry excuse of a mom like Crystal, I know how that feels. Only, Cole and I always had each other, and then once Kelly was born, we focused everything on her.

  “I’m sorry for making you think I could.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Damn it. I have to force myself to let go of her slowly, gently… not like I’m throwing her away because I’m pissed off. I’m anything but. “It’s no big deal,” I say and kiss her nose. “No harm, no foul.”

  She continues to stare up at me, confusion, desire, and sadness swirling in those grey depths. “No big deal?”

  I touch her cheek. “I meant about saying no.”

  Her lashes flutter, fanning out on the tops of her cheeks. “Oh.”

  “Give the water an hour to warm up and then try again,” I say, all business now. It was a mistake to touch her, but at least it didn’t go any further. Grabbing my toolbox, I take a step back, out of the confines of that small room and away from the desire roaring for me to take her. “Text me if it doesn’t work.”

  She nods, swallowing so hard I can hear her. “Because you’ll be with your date and don’t want to be interrupted?”

  No, baby, I’ll be thinking of you and doing God knows what in the shower to take the edge off. Actually, I know exactly what I’ll do. “Something like that.” Or I could call Dani and see if she’s still around. A part of me rebels at the thought. I can fuck who I want now, I remind myself. I can be with whomever I want. My terms. Not anyone else’s. “Is there anything else you need?”

  See, I can do this. Calm, professional, and oh, so helpful. Besides, after what happened, I’m pretty damn sure she won’t be asking me to do anything for a while. And I’m pretty damn sure I need the space from her, now more than ever. No matter my newfound freedom, Brooklyn doesn’t strike me as the type of girl I can fool around without consequences.

  “Tomorrow, could you come over and repair the back door on the screened-in porch? It’s not closing properly and I can’t lock it. And the window in the guest bedroom won’t lock either. I like to lock things at night—you know, for safety, not because I’m obsessed with locks.” She wrings her hands, her face worried and embarrassed as hell. “If you already have plans, then don’t worry about it. I can wait until you do have time.”

  I can’t have her feeling unsafe. She’s all alone in a new town. “Make a list for me, sweetheart.”

  She reaches out to touch my arm, her hand hovering before she pulls it back. I frown. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  I blink at her. Hadn’t Dani said those very words to me?

  “By fixing you supper,” she quickly adds, turning away to grab a sponge and wipe at the kitchen counters. “I’m a decent cook, or I can order a pizza. Does anyone deliver out this far?”

  “No,” I snap.

  Her embarrassed-driven cleaning stops mid-swipe. “Fine. No dinner.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Yet, I keep giving it to her like that every time.

  She looks up at me expectantly.

  I should stop while I’m ahead. Pay someone else to come out here and help her instead of me. It’s obvious that I can’t control myself when I’m around her. I can’t deal with that right now. For one, Brooklyn deserves better than me. And two, I’m leaving in a couple of months. Without anyone else.

  “No one delivers out this far.” Obviously, I have brain-to-mouth issues that need work.

  Her forehead wrinkles adorably. “So…”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”

  A surprised blush stains her cheeks. “Then I’ll have supper waiting.”

  Chapter Eight

  Brooklyn

  I stare in horror at my reflection in the dresser mirror. My eyes sparkle, and my cheeks are flushed. I run my hands over the front of my shirt. My nipples are hard, and I’m wet and throbbing between my thighs.

  Braden didn’t make any of that happen. Parker did—a man I barely know. Then again, I didn’t exactly take things slow with Braden. I touch our wedding picture. We had only dated for two months before we married. Not exactly the slow, get-to-know-you courtship my parents expected.

  Yet, here I am, moving faster than I ever have in my life. It makes no sense. None at all. Parker barely tolerates me, or at least seems to, before he gives me a glimpse of what I hope is the real him.

  Maybe he’s like me, dealing with issues, with life…with trying to get through each day. He’s nothing like how Rae had described—charming, funny, and sweet. At least the majority of the time he’s not like that.

  I have no idea who or what to expect tomorrow night. Will I get charming or surly, friendly or seductive? Which one do I want?

  Shaking my head in disgust, I whisper, “I don’t want him,” to the woman in the mirror.

  Unfortunately, my body disagrees.

  *

  I’m working on next week’s delivery schedule when Rowan walks inside my office.

  “Lunch break,” she announces. “We’re going to Monty’s. It’s a pizza joint up the road.”

  “Okay,” I say absently. “I’ll be sure to answer the phones while you’re gone.”

  “I said, we, as in you and me. I never get girl time around here with all these lugheads.”

  Jerking my gaze up, I stare at her. First girls’ night out and now this? For so long I hid from the world that now, I’m completely rusty at replying like a normal person. Or even at all.

  She tilts her head to one side, miming eating. “You, me, and lunch. It’s what people do. Paul will take his break after ours, so we’re covered.”

  Heat travels up my neck. Gah. I’ve always hated how easily I blush. “Good.” I fumble for my purse, nearly dumping it over. “I’m ready.”

  Rowan eyes me for a moment, obviously dying to say something, as her lips twitch. “I’ll drive.”

  Nodding, I shoot to my feet and almost plow through Rowan in my hurry not to look so stupid. “Let’s go.”

  Laughing, Rowan falls into step beside me. “Slow your roll, girl. It’s lunch, not a fire drill.

  I practically come to a complete stop in the middle of the hallway. “Right.”

  She grabs my arm and tugs me along. “But it’s not a funeral march either.” I feel her tense. “Crap. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I give her a blank look. “Said what?”

  “About the funeral march.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” I assure her. “I’m not that sensitive.” Anymore.

  Relief fills in her eyes. “Thank God. I was worried.”

  “Now you don’t have to worry,” I say, smiling. Pushing open the door, I blink at the bright sun. “Can you believe it’s almost June?”

  “Weather talk? Am I that boring?” Rowan snorts as she unlocks her car. It’s black with a large, red stripe up the middle of the hood that extends over the roof and to the trunk. I don’t know a lot about cars, but this one screams Bad Ass Muscle Car.

  “It’s a safe topic.” I grin.

  “So I am that boring.”

  “Nah,�
� I say, sliding inside the car and shutting the door, while Rowan does the same.

  “You didn’t elaborate on that nah,” she points out. The engine turns over, roaring to life.

  “Was I supposed to?” I ask, all innocence.

  “Harsh, Reeves, harsh.” But there’s laughter in her voice as she pulls out into traffic. “How’s work going?”

  “I’m enjoying it.”

  “None of the guys are giving you a hard time, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” She takes a left, then a right. “Do you mind if we stop by Miss Myrtle’s house? I need to run in and make sure she takes her meds with lunch.”

  “Fine with me.”

  We pull up to a brick ranch-styled house, and Rowan gets out without bothering to turn off the engine. Less than a minute later, she’s back in the car.

  “That was quick.”

  Rowan blows her bangs out of her eyes. “Today it was. Sometimes, she can be really stubborn.”

  “Is she your grandmother or something?”

  “She’s my ex-boyfriend’s grandmother.” She mutters something under her breath that I can’t make out.

  “Wow. That’s unexpected.”

  She shrugs. “I love Miss Myrtle. I’ve been living with her since I was sixteen.”

  “What bout your parents?”

  Her lips twist. “Not in the picture. My brother, Jace, got sent to jail, and I had nowhere to go except in the foster system.”

  My heart goes out to her. I know exactly what it feels like to lose everything. “It couldn’t have been easy living there with your ex.”

  “Oh, I’ve never lived with Seth.” She parks in the first row of the parking lot. “He went to jail at the same time my brother did. They were sentenced together.”

  I lay a hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

  Blue eyes full of sadness gaze at me. “So am I.” She takes a deep breath. “Anyway, Jace is the reason why I started Jailbirds to Jobs. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is for former convicts to get a job.”

  “Probably as hard as a former Marine,” I point out, thinking of all the resume rough drafts Braden and I wrote for him. “Or any soldier really. They’re so used to being told what to do, when to do it, and who to do it with that some of them aren’t sure how to act once they get back in the real world.”