Need You Tonight

by Marquita Valentine

  At least she’s honest. Sitting down beside her, I reach for her hand. She doesn’t pull away, and I press a kiss to the knuckles. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you,” she says, but her softly spoken words ring hollow in my ear.

  “Ask me.”

  She shakes her head. “Tell me.”

  “That was me in the video.”

  Her fingers tighten around mine. “You lied to me. You said…you said that you were fifteen and did it to help your family out. But that video was recent, not years old, and showed you with another woman, with her going down on you in a elevator and you looked into it, into her. There are more videos online—one’s they can’t share on television with other people who work at that agency in them. Some guy went undercover to find out if the rumors were true. They’re saying all these rich and powerful people are involved.”

  She swallows. “I watched all the videos, because I wanted to prove to myself that I was wrong. Instead, I got to watch you kiss some random woman on the neck with your hand up her dress.”

  My gaze drops to the ground. I can’t defend this, because it all happened. “Told you I was a whore.”

  “Shut up.”

  I jerk my gaze to hers. “What?”

  “Shut up. You don’t get to come into my house and play the poor pitiful me card.” Anger blazes in her pretty eyes. “I let you into my life, my body, and my heart, and you didn’t have the decency to clarify my misconception. You didn’t have the decency to tell me the truth—that you were still in the business, an escort—whatever you call it—while you were with me.”

  I shake my head. “I wasn’t. I quit the day before I met you. The date was wrong.”

  “How do I know that’s the truth? You lied to me, Parker. Even when you had the chance to tell me the entire truth, you chose to lie.” She pulls her hand out of mine. “Do you know how stupid I felt, how betrayed… and scared out of my mind, because if you lied about that, then you could have lied to me about everything else. I had to go to a clinic and get tested. Me, Brooklyn Reeves, a woman who before you, only had sex with her husband. Ever. And now, I have to spend the entire weekend waiting on the results,” she cries.

  “I promise you’ll be okay.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yeah, I promise. I don’t fucking have anything.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she says and her voice cracks. “I don’t believe anything about you. You’re a liar, Parker Morgan, and I deserve better than that.”

  *

  Brooklyn

  Sharp pain slices through my heart, cutting it into tiny pieces. “Get out of my house.” It had been a bad idea to let Parker inside. I should have answered his calls and gotten it over with that way.

  He falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I thought you understood when I told you about my past.”

  I try to pry his arms away, but he won’t let me. “Please, let me go. Just let go.” I say the words, even while my heart is screaming at me to forgive him.

  He shakes his head. “Can’t do that. I can’t live without you. I can’t…you’re my heart.”

  “You broke mine.”

  Rising up, he tries to kiss me, but I turn away and his mouth hits my cheek. He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. There’s so much pain in his golden-green eyes that I almost forget about my own. “I love you. I want to marry you. I’d do anything for you. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this.”

  “I don’t know.” A sob wells up in my throat. “I don’t know.”

  “Come away with me,” he suddenly says, and I blink at him.

  “What?”

  He cups my face, his eyes searching and pleading. “Come away with me. I have this place out in Colorado. You’d love it.”

  Bewildered, I ask, “Colorado? Why do you have a place there?”

  “Because I planned on moving to Denver at the end of the summer.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “Listen to me.”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Listen to me. The reason I didn’t tell you is because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.”

  “I’m pretty sure that owning a place in another state is a really good indicator of your decision,” I snap.

  He nods. “Before I met you it was a foregone conclusion. I had to get out of this town. I hated Forrestville…hated the memories I had to relive each day. Hated the reminder of what I had to do to eat or have a decent roof over my head. But when you came,” his voice grows hoarse with emotion and I want to comfort him, but I sit there, hands fisted on my lap, because I can’t trust myself to make a good decision.

  He clears his throat. “But when you showed up, everything changed for me. Everything. For the first time in a long time, I considered staying. It wasn’t pressure from my brother or West that made me think about changing my mind—it was you, baby. All you.”

  My mind is whirling, my heart is breaking, and my emotions are all over the place. “I need time to think.”

  “Take all the time you need,” he says and scoops me up in his arms.

  I start to panic as we head to my bedroom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He lets me slide down his body, and I feel how hard he is. I shiver. “Giving you something to think about.” His mouth slants over mine, fingers digging into my hair, and my back hits the wall. He kisses me like he can’t get enough, like this is the last time we’ll ever be together.

  There’s desperation in his kiss, his touch as his fingers slide down my neck and shoulders. I can’t help but respond in kind.

  Despite everything, all the lies and half-truths, I love Parker for everything he did do for me. For helping me break free of the past and embrace the present and the future.

  He blazes a wet trail of kisses down my throat and licks the tops of my breasts. His big hands cups my breasts, rubbing my nipples and making me cry out. He grabs my tank top and bra, yanking viciously until my breasts pop free.

  His hot, wet mouth covers a nipple, sucking deeply, and I can’t help but shamelessly rub against him, seeking the relief that only he can give.

  He shoves a hand down the front of my shorts, his fingers finding my swollen clit.

  “Thank God,” he mutters against my skin.

  One long finger slides inside of me, and my inner muscles clench at it greedily. I choke out a moan as he begins to move.

  “That’s it, baby. You’re so damn wet for me.”

  He shifts to one side, doing something with his free hand while I’m slowly losing my mind, lowering my defenses, and on the verge of an orgasm.

  My shorts and panties fall to the floor. I hear something tear and realize that he’s rolling on a condom. Parker lifts me slightly and with one powerful thrust, he’s inside of me. Rocking, stroking, and thrusting.

  I grab his ass, push his jeans down a bit more, and hook one leg over his hip.

  My head falls back against the door, and he nips at my jaw.

  “This is what you should think about.” He punctuates each word with a thrust. “I’ve never had sex like this. Never. Neither have you.”

  “Shut up.” I don’t want his past or mine in this. I don’t want to think about anyone, but Parker in this moment.

  His lowers his forehead to mine, staring deeply into my eyes. “I’m going to come inside of you so hard, baby.” He flicks his thumb over my clit and I cry out. “That’s it.”

  He flicks me again, and I shatter, screaming his name. He grabs my hips, pumping into me hard and fast. His hands tighten, painfully so. Leaning down slightly, he bites my neck and thrusts deep, holding himself still as he comes inside me.

  “I can’t…I can’t give you what you want right now,” I gasp as he kisses a raw spot on my neck. “You hurt me so badly.”

  Picking me up, he walks to the bed. “I’m not done with you.”

  As we lay down, I caress the
side of his face. “This doesn’t change how I feel.”

  The look he gives me makes me want to forgive him right on the spot. “I know, but it’s the only way I know how to apologize.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Brooklyn

  I still half expect Parker to be waiting for me when I get home from work, but my driveway is empty. Disappointment flows through me, and I try to shake it off, reminding myself that I had no choice.

  To my surprise, after I received the negative test results, I found myself trusting Parker again. But that easily won trust scared me so badly that I had to finally put my foot down last week.

  “Feel like dancing?” he asks after supper.

  “You’ll use any excuse to touch me,” I say lightly.

  My heart speeds up as he trails his knuckles over my bare shoulder and down my back as we move.

  He kisses my forehead, my cheek, and the corner of my mouth. “You’re right. I’d do anything to touch you again. To touch you every night for the rest of my life.”

  I pull away. “I need some space. Real space, not what we’ve been doing. I can’t think when you’re always here.”

  Parker nods, his face tight. “I understand, and I’ll give you some time, but dammit, you need to make up your mind. Either you want to marry me or not.”

  I walk inside, flipping on the lights as I go. My house feels so empty without Parker. I feel so empty without him here. It’s so quiet without him—no laughter, no sounds of a hammer, or his heavy footsteps … no music. Nothing but the echo of my footsteps on the hardwood floors.

  My heart pinches.

  Three weeks of beautiful flowers delivered each day to work, handwritten, heartfelt notes that would make their way into my mailbox, and after work visits to repair the little things in my house had immediately stopped. And it’s all because I sent him away. I sent him away, and he might never come back.

  The realization of what I did hits me full force, and I have to grab the counter to keep from falling to my knees. I didn’t need time to think about Parker or us. I’m always thinking of us. I’m always thinking about the little things he’s done for me, the way he always holds out my chair at the table, places his hand on the small of my back as we walk, and listens to me talk about people he doesn’t know.

  Parker is the one who brought me to life again. Parker is the one who healed me, who loved me, and insisted that I was fragile, not broken. He helped me pack up my husband’s things, and, after we taped up the last box, held me while cried.

  He trusted me with his secrets and fears. I never fully realized how hard that was for him. Or how embarrassing it must have been to see his face on television. To have everyone know his dirty little secret. I’d been too wrapped up in myself, in being the victim, that I had failed to see it.

  I failed him, and yet, he came back to me. He worried about me. He set out to prove me wrong, that he could be trusted, and I sent him away.

  A sob rips from my throat, hot tears run down my cheeks.

  Nothing but fear is holding me back from being with him, and I’m damn tired of being afraid.

  Grabbing my phone, I start to text him, and then shake my head. “Too impersonal,” I huff and dial his number.

  My heart pounds and my knees shake while the phone rings, but he doesn’t answer, and, eventually, it goes to voicemail.

  “Hey, this is Parker. Leave a message,” I hear his sexy, deep voice say and I fight for air.

  “Hey, it’s me—Brooklyn?” I say, trying to keep my voice upbeat. “When you get a minute, could you give me a call?”

  Ending the call, I stare at the phone and wait for it to ring. Of course it doesn’t. Why should he call me back right away? I don’t deserve his call.

  “I’ll be patient,” I say to the empty room and proceed to fix dinner for one.

  By the time eleven o’clock rolls around, I can barely keep my eyes open, and Parker still hasn’t returned my call.

  Tomorrow. I’ll go to his house and tell him how I feel, are my last thoughts before I go to sleep.

  *

  Parker

  It’s almost nine pm, and I’m at the police station to answer questions about the Butler Agency Scandal—as the media likes to call it. No one knows I’m here, but my brother and sister-in-law…not even Brooklyn knows. If she knew, I’d like to think she would be here with me, supporting me, but I won’t use this against her. She asked for time and space, and no matter how hard or painful it is for me to respect her wishes, I will.

  “Have a seat,” the detective says, gesturing to a chair.

  I sit down, rubbing my damp palms on my slacks. My hotshot lawyer, courtesy of my brother, sits down beside me. “We’d like full immunity in exchange for his testimony here today,” she says.

  The DA nods. “As long as Mr. Morgan is honest and gives us something we can use, then the state has no problem with that.”

  I take a deep breath, trying not to let the shame of my past stop me from telling complete strangers the truth. I wasn’t the only one recruited to work for Annabelle Butler at a young age. Some were younger. Some were bought, locally and from other countries under the guise of adoption.

  My lawyer nods encouragingly at me. “Go on, Parker. Tell them everything you told me.”

  “I’m trying.” I swallow and take another breath.

  “You were the victim,” she reminds me. “Consensual or not, you were a minor when this started.”

  “I was fifteen when Annabelle approached me,” I begin. I tell them everything. All the good, bad, and the ugly.

  “That’s rape and child abuse,” my lawyer says after I describe the first client that I had sexual contact with, and what he did to me.

  The detective curses, and turns to the DA. “Tell me this will stand in court.”

  Tight-lipped the DA nods. “You weren’t the only one that particular client of Ms. Butler assaulted.”

  Nausea makes my stomach roil. “But what about… when I—after I was eighteen?”

  My lawyer places a hand on my arm. “That’s why I asked for immunity. Once we’re done here, it’s over, and you’re free to go.”

  “Unless, I need you to testify in court,” the DA says.

  My jaw clenches at the thought of being challenged. Of being called a liar in front of everyone I could possibly know. While the scandal died down, and I was never positively identified in the video, since the women only knew me as Manuel, I had started to worry less and less about my secret coming out. Or how it would affect Brooklyn and the rest of my family. But, now…

  You’re not the only one. Some were younger than you, bought locally, and from other countries under the guise of adoption.

  At least I had a choice at the beginning, even when I felt like there was no other choice.

  I look directly at the district attorney and say, “I’ll do it. Whatever you need from me, I’ll do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Brooklyn

  The next morning, I wake up with a pounding headache.

  “Nobody had better gotten me sick. I have to see Parker today,” I mumble as I make my way to the fridge, rubbing my temples as I go. Nearly everyone but Rowan, Boyd, and I had gotten the stomach flu at work. Apparently, it lasts for forty-eight hours and makes you look like death jumped up and down on your entire body the whole time.

  I pour myself a large glass of orange juice and drink it down. My stomach lurches, and I slap my hand over my mouth as I run to the bathroom.

  Hours blend together as I become best friends with the toilet. Finally, I’m able to crawl to my bed and just lay there, praying for death and wishing for sleep. True to what I’d been told, I spend the next forty-eight hours puking my guts up until all I can do is dry heave.

  Out of nowhere, a cool washcloth covers my forehead and I turn into it, moaning in relief. My mom had always made one for me when I had a fever or headache.

  “Momma?”

  “No,” Parker says, and my he
art flutters in my chest. “Just me, breaking my word to stay away and give you time.”

  “You weren’t supposed to come to me,” I cry, and he gives me a pained look. “This is awful.”

  “It’s a good thing you feel that way because you smell too awful for me to try to change you mind.”

  Sharp pain stabs at my head, and I screw my eyes shut, whimpering.

  “I made soup,” he says softly and caresses my cheek. “Brought you some aspirin to take, too.”

  My stomach rumbles, but I have no desire to start puking again. “I don’t want any.”

  “Liar,” he says. I feel rather than see him hold the bowl under my nose and wave it around a little. My mouth starts to water.

  I open my eyes. “Okay, I’ll try it.” I push myself up, startled to find that I have on pajamas. “When did I change clothes?”

  “I did it. You were so out of it and weak that you couldn’t help me. Promise I didn’t look. Much.” Parker blushes and holds a spoon to my lips. “Open.”

  I allow him to feed me. The warm liquid eases my raw throat and, while my stomach gurgles like crazy, the soup stays down.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask, when I can’t eat another bite.

  He sets the bowl and spoon down on the bedside table. “Long enough to make soup, get you cleaned up and into fresh clothes, change your sheets, clean your bathroom, and take a shower myself.”

  Slowly, I crane my head to look inside the bathroom. It practically gleams it’s so clean. “You did all that for me?”

  “Yes.” He settles down beside me, putting his hands behind his head. “Had to You Tube how to change sheets while someone’s in bed, but I figured it out.”

  “Parker, I… you—”

  “Yeah, I overstepped, but when Rowan called me, worried about you because you hadn’t checked in, and then I got your voice mail—I did what anyone would do.”

  Love for him swells so hard that I press my hand against my chest. “I don’t think just anyone would clean up my puke.”

  “Can we talk about something else?” he asks, looking vaguely green.