Need You Tonight

by Marquita Valentine

  There’s nothing frantic in our pace, no hurry to get to the orgasm at the end. I make love to her slowly, gently… holding myself back to prolong her pleasure. She squeezes me so tight that my eyes water. I capture her mouth with mine, our tongues tangling together like our bodies.

  I know I’ll never find someone as perfect and precious to me as Brooklyn. I know I’ll never find someone so forgiving and understanding, and I don’t plan to search the world to prove myself wrong.

  The woman in my arms is more than enough for me.

  She gasps, her body convulsing around me as the start of her orgasm hits her. I reach between us, rub her clit, and make her moan.

  “Parker.” The sweetest sound. How could I ever contemplate running from her, from this… from what we have? When I’m with her, I have no past. There were no other women. I wasn’t a whore.

  She makes me feel like a man. She makes me feel wanted and needed.

  I quicken my thrusts, and throw both of her legs over my shoulders. Her back arches, sending her tits into my face. I kiss the tips and tongue them, making her shudder against me.

  Jesus. I have to pull out of her.

  “Brooklyn, are you,” I begin, but my orgasm hit me and I surge inside of her, coming so hard that I see stars. Somehow, I pull out of her midstroke and finish on the sheet under us.

  Her small hand runs down my chest and back up again, but she’s silent. Too silent, and I start to panic.

  “You don’t have to move in with me. I’ll do whatever you want. We have time. Hell, I’m taking you out on a proper double date this Thursday with West and McKenzie. You’ll—”

  Before I can say finish, Brooklyn is kissing me. I roll over, bringing her to straddle me. This time she’s frantic. Her hands are everywhere, nails scraping at my skin. I grab her wrist when she starts to get too rough.

  “Stop it. I don’t know what you’re doing, but stop.”

  She looks at me, hair hanging over half her face. “I don’t know what I’m doing either. I…I need time.”

  Though I’m panicking inside, I keep my voice calm. Steady. “Whatever you want.”

  She lays down on top of me, and I hold her until we both fall asleep again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brooklyn

  “My in-laws are coming to my house tomorrow,” I blurt as Parker sets my plate in front of me. We’re eating breakfast in my kitchen, and now I’ve just ruined it by my announcement.

  He gives me an odd look. “Is that the reason for your behavior last night?”

  “Some of it,” I admit. “But my reaction to your offer—you won’t like the explanation.”

  “Try me.” He sits down in the chair beside me, instead of across from me, and I wish he hadn’t. I need some distance right now.

  “When Braden and I first met, we had a whirlwind courtship.”

  He frowns and eats a bite of eggs. “I’m listening.”

  Wringing my hands, I try to gather my thoughts. “Everything was fast with Braden. The pursuit, the dates, the proposal… everything. It was like he couldn’t wait for the final result. He had to have it now—me, the house… Gunnery Sergeant designation. Don’t get me wrong, he was diligent, not reckless. Sometimes, you remind me of him.”

  Parker’s brows crash together. “And he had more respect for you than I do—in your eyes at least.”

  My stomach twists up into knots. “I’m not saying that.”

  “Then what are you saying, because all I hear is how fucking good he was compared to me.” Parker mutters a curse and slams his fist on the table, making the plates and me jump. “Damn it. I swore I wouldn’t be jealous of a dead man, because I’m here, and he’s not. I’m the one making you cry out in pleasure, and he’s not. I’m the one who’s in your bed, in your body, and in your fucking life while he’s not. Yet, he’s still the one that has your entire heart. There’s nothing left for me, not even a slice. Every time we get close you push me away. Every fucking time.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  He jumps up from the table. “It’s true, isn’t it? You can’t get past your love for someone who isn’t even here, to see the man standing before you. You’re so damn worried about your in-laws coming that we couldn’t even fuck without fighting.”

  “Stop saying that word,” I say tightly.

  “Why? It’s what we do. You don’t love me, don’t want to move in with me, so I’m nothing but a fuck. A damn good fuck, but that’s it.”

  “We’re not fucking,” I shout, and I fling my plate against the wall. Eggs and toast slide down the wall. “I’m scared, because I love you just as much as I loved Braden. And now I have to deal with his mother and father coming to my house to talk about him, about us, and all the good times we had. I have to relive his death, his life, and the life I can’t have anymore. A life that I’m trying to put behind me so I can move forward, but it’s hard and I’ve never tried before you.”

  Parker looks at me in surprise, then hands me his plate. “Here.”

  “You want me to do dishes?”

  “No, baby. I want you to throw the damn thing at the wall.”

  I look at him, and then at the plate. With a scream, I hurl it at the wall and it shatters. “I hate him for leaving me. And I hate me for hating him so much.”

  “Again, sweetheart. Get it all out,” he says encouragingly and steps behind me. “Hit the motherfucking wall with every last dish.”

  With a deep breath, I allow all the insecurities and feelings that I let stay hidden for so long come out. I grab a glass, hurling it, as tears stream down my eyes, and my stomach starts to ache. It hits the wall with a satisfying noise. “I hate how much I’ve missed out on. I hate that I’m such a miserable human being that I can’t even accept the love and help you and Rowan want to give me.”

  My legs give out, and I plop down in the chair. My entire body is racked with sobs I can’t stop. “I hate him. I hate me more.”

  Parker lifts me and carries me into the living room. “Don’t you dare look around this room.”

  “It’s a memorial,” I sniff.

  “Braden wouldn’t have wanted you to live like this,” he says. “A stand up guy like him would have wanted you to be happy, to live life, and find a man worthy of you.”

  I fist his shirt. “What do I tell his parents when they come tomorrow?”

  “What do you want to tell them?”

  “That I can’t rehash his death every month, in person or over the phone.”

  “I know you don’t want to miss work, but I think you need to take today off to get ready for tomorrow,” he says, and I look at him through watery eyes.

  “I don’t want to take down my Christmas tree. I love it.”

  “Not the tree. I think it might be time to give Braden’s parents his stuff.”

  *

  Parker

  I watch as Brooklyn paces the room while she talks to her friend Soon Lin. Apparently, she looks to this woman as sort of a mentor. A mentor who will hopefully back me up, and not because I want to be right, but because Brooklyn needs to move on with her life.

  “All of it? Even the flag?”

  Brooklyn nods. “What if his parents don’t want it?” Her eyes fly to mine. “Yes, I have someone who can help me.”

  Smiling, I go back to scrubbing the kitchen wall. She did a number on it with the jelly from my plate. Funny thing, I kind of understand my mom a little bit more by watching Brooklyn. Crystal would yell, scream, and throw shit all the time because she was so frustrated and helpless, but she never put a hand on us. In fact, she went overboard with loving on Kelly and me while ignoring Cole. Something that I still don’t understand, but maybe we’ll get answers once we’re out there visiting her and my dad.

  “Mom and dad are in Kentucky—renaissance fair. No, they can’t make it. I don’t know when I’ll see them.”

  I hear Brooklyn sigh. “That’s not fair. You know it was their dream to travel the country.”

  H
er parents are travelling the country instead of helping her? What kind of parents—oh, right, mine would. Then again, Brooklyn barely speaks of her parents, but I assumed she had a normal childhood. Hell, anything that differed from mine was normal.

  “I know. Right. Yes. I won’t. Love you, too.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I watch Brooklyn rub the heel of her hand against her head. Her pretty eyes are hidden from me, as is most of her face. I stop scrubbing the wall and rinse off my hands before walking to her and taking her in my arms.

  “What did Soon Lin say?”

  “That you’re right.”

  I rub my chin on top of her head. “I didn’t want to be right.”

  “I know,” she says quietly. “Soon Lin said you could do it for me, but I don’t want you to.”

  My heart sinks. Jesus. When will someone tell this girl that it’s okay to move on? Someone besides me, that is?

  “I want you to help me, Parker.” She leans back in my arms and gazes up at me. There are pale purple shadows under her eyes, making her look fragile as hell, not too mention exhausted.

  “I’ll help you however you want, Sunshine.”

  Her cute nose crinkles. “Sunshine?”

  “Trying it out. Don’t like it?”

  She giggles. “Not really. I had a yellow lab named Sunshine, so it would be really weird for you call me that when we’re…together.”

  I make a face. “Can see why you wouldn’t like that. Back to the drawing board.”

  “I could make you a list,” she teases.

  There’s nothing I’d like more than to continue this playful flirting, but I know that she’s partly doing it to stall for time. “You could, or we could get to work. It’s after two. What time will your in-laws be here tomorrow?”

  “Right after lunch. They want to take me to dinner tomorrow night, too.”

  Which meant she would have to spend at least six hours talking about Braden. I have to think of a way to save her from that. Letting go of her, I grab one of the boxes she’d saved from moving, and hold it out.

  “Do you want me to do the honors or…?”

  She visibly swallows, her face paling. “I can do it.” Slowly, she looks around the room, like she’s trying to memorize. Then she moves to the table by the sofa, the one I’d bumped into and made Braden’s picture fall to the floor. Taking it by the frame, she tilts her head to one side and just gazes at it for the longest time. “Thank you for loving me,” she says. A tear rolls down her cheek, followed by a second one.

  Then she kisses his picture and puts it in the box, facedown.

  Damn, if I don’t feel like crying myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Parker

  The next morning, after leaving a very satisfied Brooklyn in bed, I drive to Callahan’s to talk to Rowan. As soon as she spots me, she shoves open the door and leans against it, waiting.

  “You have a minute?” I ask.

  She raises a brow. “Depends what you want.”

  “It’s not for me, it’s for Brooklyn.”

  A smile curves her lips. She’s hot as hell, wild as anything, and looks like a Playboy centerfold come to life—which means she reminds me of my mother and there’s no way I’d touch her, not even if I wasn’t with Brooklyn.

  “Come into my office.” I grab the top of the door, holding it open while she walks inside.

  As I walk inside, more than a few guys give me the once over. A few of them recognize me and tip their chins up in greeting before going back to work.

  “Is Mrs. Reeves coming in today?” one of them asks. Oh yeah, this one is totally interested in my girl. “We had lunch plans.”

  Rowan glances at me, judging my reaction. I step up to the guy. “My girl’s too satisfied for lunch today,” I say. “In fact, I’m sure she’ll be too satisfied for lunch with anyone but me from here on out. You got me?”

  “Yeah, I got you, man.” He nods and I walk away, but not before I see Rowan give him a thumbs up.

  I shake my head—she set me up. God help the man who sets his sight on that wild child. “This way, Morgan. I can’t have you chatting up my employees,” Rowan calls out from her office doorway.

  I go inside and shut the door behind me. “Do you ever call anyone by their first name?”

  “Piper, because she threatened to paint my office pink if I called her Ross again,” she says. “And my brother, because he’s my brother.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  She laughs. “Spit it out. I don’t have all day. I’m helping Boyd with an overhaul at two. The ride is sweet. I’ve been dying to get my hands on it.”

  “Brooklyn’s in-laws are coming right after lunch, to spend the rest of the day with her and talk about their son. Then they want to take her out to dinner and talk more about their son.” I can’t bring myself to call him her husband or her dead husband.

  “She didn’t seem too upset about it Monday.”

  “I helped her pack up all the things that belonged to their son yesterday to give back to them.”

  “I’ll get my keys.” She stands, grabbing her phone. “I’ll meet you there.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t be there. She’s nervous, guilty, and I make it worse.”

  A genuine smile kicks up the corners of her mouth. “You’re in love with her.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Dude, it was that obvious when I saw you watching her from the balcony at King’s.”

  My jaw drops. “You saw me?”

  “You were practically burning a hole in the back of her head,” she points out.

  “I wasn’t—”

  Rowan glares at me.

  “Don’t you have a friend in need?” I ask rather than argue with the woman.

  “I would already be on my way if you weren’t in my way.” Rowan steps around me and hauls ass through the building as I follow. “Linda, inform the guys I won’t be here the rest of the day. If they need me, they can text, but it has to be an emergency. A real one. The cable going out during Real Ways to Die is not a real emergency.”

  “Simmons,” I shout, and Rowan glances over her shoulder.

  “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  She winks at me and shoves open the door.

  *

  Brooklyn

  A car pulls up in a driveway just as I finish making a list of things to do this weekend, including: kiss Parker, hug Parker, have sexy times with Parker. Repeat until satisfied.

  I snort.

  Glancing at the clock, I take note of the time. It’s still too early for Donna and Frank to be here. Maybe Parker forgot something? I move to the bedroom and start searching under the bed. There’s nothing but dust bunnies under there.

  My doorbells rings, and I bump my head on the bedframe. “Ouch.” Patting my head, I head to the front door. “Coming.” Mom had mentioned in her postcard that they were sending a package to me. So, maybe the delivery guy is here, because Parker never rings the doorbell.

  I open the door, a friendly smile on my face.

  “Brooklyn,” Donna squeals, hugging me tight. “You look beautiful. Too skinny, but I’ll make us some lunch. We’ll fatten you up again.”

  I stare at Frank over her shoulder. He’s wearing a ball cap with the words Marine Vet emblazoned on the front and a stern expression on his face. But that’s Frank Reeves.

  He’d look like that if he won the lottery, Braden whispers to me.

  I suppress a whimper and hug Donna back. “You’re early.” I had made Parker promise to stay away, despite the fact that I caught him banging a hammer against the pipes under the sink so he could stay around to fix them when they inevitably broke. But now, all I want is Parker by my side.

  “Donna couldn’t stand the thought of eating without you when we were so close,” Frank said as he stepped inside, his arms laden with grocery bags. “Where’s the kitchen?”

  “Down th
e hall and to the left.”

  “Brooklyn, your house is lovely,” Donna says as she walks further inside, and I start to tremble. The closer she gets to the living room, the harder I shake, until I have clench my teeth together to keep them from chattering.

  “Thank you,” I manage to get out.

  “You still have boxes to unpack.” She peers at them and gasps, her hand covering her mouth. “Saving his things for last. You sweet girl. He was so lucky to have you as his wife.”

  I swallow. “I—I’m not saving them.”

  Donna gives me an odd look. “I don’t understand. Did you put his stuff somewhere else?”

  Shaking my head, I bite my lip. “No.” Black dots invade my vision. My body goes from cold to hot.

  “Frank,” she shouts. “Come in here. I think Brooklyn’s having a panic attack.”

  I take a deep breath. Close my eyes. Take another breath. Open my eyes. The dots are gone. Frank joins Donna, two of the nicest people I’ll ever meet, stand before me with nothing but concern in their eyes.

  I don’t have to tell them what I did. In fact, I could lie and say that I was waiting for them to visit so we could go through all of Braden’s stuff together before I put everything back in its place.

  “You okay, doll?” Frank asks in his gruff voice. He touches my arm, and I look down at his hand, then back at him. He’s an older version of Braden, a good man defined by his years of service to the Corps, love for his wife, and pride in his son.

  “This right here is where I’ll teach our kid how to pitch,” Braden says as we walk hand in hand in our backyard.

  A Frisbee lands in front of us, and he lets go of me to pick it up. “Be right back, beautiful girl. I need to go see a man about a Frisbee.”

  “Love you,” I say for no other reason than he won’t be hearing it from me on a daily basis once he deploys to Afghanistan.

  He glances over his shoulder, his brown eyes full of love and laughter. “I know you do.” Suddenly, he turns and jogs back to me. “Promise me something.”