I really wasn’t sure where that speech had come from. I didn’t want to put things on hold with Parker, but I’d found out an overwhelming amount of information that night that I wasn’t prepared to deal with. The words had spilled out of me unfiltered.
I needed some time, and going with my dad would give me that. It would allow me to push everything out of my mind for a while. It would give me time to put Damien truly in my past so that I could look ahead to my future—hopefully a future that included the man fidgeting on the couch next to me.
“You want a break? From us?”
“No, I don’t.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. It was hard to tell the person who you wanted to spend all of your time with that maybe we were better off without each other for a while. “But it might be healthy for us, Parker. It’ll give us time to figure out what this is. I don’t know about you, but my feelings for you are intense. Strong. Undeniable. Scary as fuck. And then my dad filled me in on some shit tonight that I need to deal with.”
“Jimi,” he said softly, his fingers lacing through mine, “I don’t want a break.”
“I don’t, either, but our lives are going to pull us away from each other for a little bit, and maybe we need to just let it happen. When you’re back, when I’m back, we can reevaluate.”
“I guarantee I’ll be in the exact same place where I am now.”
I finally glanced over at him, and our eyes locked. His eyes flashed with a hundred different emotions.
“I will be, too.” I sighed. “So it’s not an official break. It’s a temporary pause. We’ll find our way back.”
He leaned over to me, his lips finding my neck. “Maybe I can find a way to convince you that it’s not even a pause.”
The scruff on his chin scratched my sensitive flesh. His lips trailed from my neck up my throat, up my chin, and landed on my lips.
Our mouths opened to each other, his tongue darting against mine with aggression and intensity. I felt everything inside of me tighten with desire. Tingles zipped up my spine. Butterflies soared in my belly and up into my chest. His kiss held intensity and passion.
His hand danced slowly up my torso, landing on my breast. A quiet groan emanated up from his chest when my hand advanced toward the rock solid erection confined in his jeans.
He leaned up over me and shifted us so that I was positioned beneath him. The two other times we’d had sex hadn’t been quite so intimate. Kissing him while I was under him gave me a completely different feeling from kissing him any other way.
I felt cherished beneath him. I felt like he cared for me, like he wanted more with me than a good time. I knew he did, but his actions spoke volumes. And when he kissed me that way, as his body thrust toward mine even though we were both fully clothed, that was when I felt the honesty in what we were doing.
This was more than a good time. This was more than a couple of nights. This was more than feeling good.
This was real emotions, intense and powerful and undeniable.
He backed off of me and pushed off his pants. He tore his shirt over his head. I shimmied out of my own clothes from my position on the couch, and when I looked up and saw Parker James standing in front of me, fastening on a condom, I realized that it was the first time I’d seen his naked body in the flesh in front of me.
I’d dreamt about it, though. And he looked exactly as delicious as I’d imagined in my wildest fantasies that attacked my subconscious in the middle of the night.
He was gorgeous. He was perfect in every way.
And, at least for the time being, he was mine.
He made his way over to me. My eyes were glued to the snake that wound its way around his torso. It struck me that we had the same image tattooed on our bodies. The only difference was that his was on his front, and mine was on my back. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me.
Snakes were symbolic for many things. In many cultures, they represented healing. Rebirth. Life.
Snakes also meant evil. Many religions saw the serpent as a representation of the devil.
I wondered which symbol Parker was going for.
I read the words that he’d permanently etched onto his skin. I didn’t have much time because he pounced on top of me, but I’d read enough to make out the lyrics in the chorus of Flashing Light’s “Trial and Error.”
It was one of the songs that had made me feel again after a year of numbness when Damien had left me.
I’d selfishly only considered myself for so long that as Parker pushed into me, I couldn’t help but think about what he’d gone through that had prompted him to write such an intense song that clearly held meaning to him.
I can’t keep trying
You’re killing me slowly
I can’t keep dying
But I’m dying for you
You told me I’m a sucker
Just a crazy motherfucker
I’m done with this life
You’re handing me the knife
We tried, we tried, we tried
But all we got was an error
The song played in my head as Parker pumped in and out of me.
I wanted to think about how little I actually knew about this man who I was falling for. I wanted to think about how dangerous he was. I wanted to consider how dangerous I was for him, too.
But his hands were everywhere. His mouth dragged down my neck as we made love on my couch.
My mind was lost, focused on the pleasure and the feelings he was driving into me.
All of that combined with his powerful thrusts pushed me into an oblivion that was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced before.
twenty-three
“Can I see?” he asked softly, kissing the ink that wrapped around from my back to my torso. His head had come to a rest just below my breasts as we both regained composure for a few moments full of panting.
In my ridiculous lust for him, I hadn’t thought to cover up. I’d ripped my shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor. I’d pulled off my bra while he’d procured a condom from some pocket in his pants.
I wasn’t really ready to explain everything that my tattoos symbolized, but I was ready to let him see that part of me. It was a part of me that so few people ever got to see, but I wanted to let him in. I wanted him to know the real me.
I nodded.
Parker stood. “Be right back,” he said, heading toward the bathroom.
He returned, and I hadn’t moved.
He eyed me as he pulled on his jeans.
“Tell me about yours, first.” I tried to keep the pleading out of my voice, but if I was going to let him in on the most intimate part of who I was, I wanted to know something equally intimate about him first.
He pointed to the tiger on his bicep. “This tiger was my first. I took Mandarin in high school, and we learned about the Chinese symbolism of tigers. I loved the idea of etching power and protection onto my skin.”
“So you have someone protecting you all the time?”
He shrugged. “You could say that. Now you go.”
I stood up and turned around.
I hated people who got tattoos just to show them off. Mine were intensely private.
The butterflies on my upper arm were for Katie. She’d loved butterflies. She’d been obsessed with them, actually. She had promised me that someday she would get a butterfly tattoo, and she’d even drawn one that represented her and one that represented me.
Her life had been cut short before she’d had the chance to get her tattoo.
At her funeral, every person who attended released a butterfly into the air. Putting her butterfly on my skin was my tribute, my way to keep my best friend with me forever. And I added the second butterfly—the one she’d drawn to represent me—to symbolize our friendship. It only seemed appropriate to etch both of the butterflies she had designed on my skin.
Some people put family permanently on their bodies. Others burned skulls into their skin. On my back, I put myself on my skin. My init
ials: RCP. I’d learned a long time ago I was the only one I could really count on in life, but the letters symbolized many things to me. Resiliency, Courage, Perseverance. They were reminders of what I needed most.
Eventually I added an arabesque design that morphed into a snake surrounded by roses. The design twined around my initials.
Parker was silent behind me. I wished I could see his eyes, see his reaction.
“Your initials?”
I nodded. “It’s not narcissistic, I swear. It means many different things to me.”
“You don’t have to defend it, Jimi. It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.”
I let out a breath. I hadn’t realized how nervous I had been for his reaction.
I felt his lips on my neck, his breath near my ear.
“What does your snake mean?” He backed up and traced the snake with his fingertips, sending a shiver though my body.
“Healing. Rebirth.”
“When did you get it?”
“About eight months ago. What does your snake mean?”
“Another symbol of protection for the Chinese, but also the idea of mended fragments.”
I was quiet, processing his words. Questions formed in my mind, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking them. But mended fragments was the same idea as healing.
Again I realized how little I knew about him. What had he gone through?
In time, I’d learn more, just as he would about me.
But just as I wasn’t ready to talk to him about my past, he had a past he was entitled to keep to himself.
He ran his fingertip across my back again.
“I could stare at this forever, Jimi. I want to lick every inch of your back.”
As nice as that sounded, I was suddenly exhausted.
He smacked my ass, a sharp crack in the quiet room. I jumped, but otherwise I didn’t react. I liked when he was rough with me, but the gentler side of him that had emerged that night was nice, too.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I said, turning around and wrapping my arms around his neck. His jeans were rough against my naked front side.
“Not likely. We have studio time booked tomorrow.”
“Already?”
He nodded.
“That’s fast.”
“We have a pretty solid investor in our corner that’s helping push things through.”
I yawned. “That helps.” I moved to pick up my clothes, but he batted my hand away.
“Are you ready to sleep?” His sudden change of the subject was strange, but I was too tired to care.
I nodded. “You staying?”
“If you’ve got room.”
I smiled. “Plenty of room.”
I double checked the lock on my front door, but knowing he was staying was actually a huge relief. My dad had said he’d send someone to keep an eye on me, but I liked the protection of Parker. Maybe his tiger and his snake could protect both of us.
twenty-four
I awoke tangled in Parker James. As my eyes fluttered open to the new day, I couldn’t help the smile the formed on my lips.
He was still asleep. He slept in nothing. I slept in only a shirt.
My first thought was that I’d forgotten to take my sleeping medication the night before. I’d slept through the night. That never happened. Ever.
It was one of those great sleeps where I awoke feeling refreshed instead of groggy. I didn’t remember any dreams, and I preferred waking up that way. It didn’t leave me with a feeling of shame or fear or horror. Instead, I just felt happy that Parker was sleeping next to me.
I studied the snake that wound across his torso, protecting him. I studied the words in his song. It was the words “I’m dying for you” that stood out most to me.
There was significance there. I felt the sudden urge to know what that significance was. We were moving slowly, spending small bits of time together when our schedules allowed, and the pace was starting to become maddening.
I wanted to move forward with him. I just wasn’t sure how to do that without knowing more about him.
Fuck, I wasn’t even sure what “moving forward” entailed, exactly.
We were in a stagnant state where we were unable to move in any direction, particularly since we were both going out of town for a while. When we were both back home, maybe we’d finally find the time.
Parker’s eyes opened slowly, dark and heavy in the morning light. Sleepy Parker was perfection. His hair was a mess, sticking up everywhere. I ran my fingers through it, a gesture that came out far more intimate than I’d intended.
Parker smiled at me, a slow smile that morphed into a grin.
“Take your shirt off and get on.” Those were his first words of the day, spoken in a rasp that had the effect of immediately turning me on.
I followed his directions, pulling my shirt off and tossing it beside us. I climbed over him, and he positioned the head of his cock toward my entrance. He swiped it along my clit, sending a tingle of need through my torso.
“Fuck. Do you have a condom?” he asked.
I nodded and reached over him toward the drawer in my nightstand. He moaned as my breasts brushed against his chest.
I had no idea how old those condoms were, but it was habit to keep condoms in my nightstand. A girl just never knew when she’d need one.
I handed one over to him, and he fastened it on quickly as I took my position back over him. He poised his cock in the air, and I lowered myself down over him.
“Fuck yes,” he moaned, that morning rasp turning into a growl as I lifted myself up and pushed back down. His hips met my thrusts.
I lowered down as far as I could, taking in every last centimeter that he was offering me.
This was definitely my preferred way to start the day.
He grabbed my hips and thrust. He somehow took control from the bottom, setting our pace as he lifted me up and down over him, creating the friction that drove us both toward climax.
It was another moment of perfection between us as I collapsed over the top of him.
He ran his fingertips softly through my hair, a sweet gesture that contrasted with his rougher side, and I felt myself fall just a little more for him.
When we’d first started whatever this was together, I was certain that one of us or both of us would get hurt in the end.
But the more time I spent with him, the less I saw an actual end for us.
We lay together for a long time. I may have fallen back asleep, or he may have, and then my alarm was beeping and waking us up to let us know that I had to get in the shower to get ready for work.
“When will I see you again?” I asked as he pulled on his shoes.
“Studio today and tomorrow. And then I leave.”
“So this is goodbye?”
“I think so,” he said sadly. “For now. Not for good.”
As he turned toward the door, I felt the urge to tell him I was inexplicably falling in love with him.
But I didn’t have the nerve to admit it to the one person who probably needed to hear it.
He looked a little lost as he gazed at me. Something was up with him, but I already knew him well enough to predict that he wouldn’t divulge whatever it was. He wasn’t used to feeling so strongly for one person, and I wasn’t going to push him. I trusted that he’d wait for me, and that was enough.
“I promise to text or call you every day. You promise, too.” His voice was nearly desperate.
I wanted to ask him where he was going. I wanted to tell him where I was going.
But I didn’t. He’d tell me when he was ready.
“I promise.”
He grabbed me around my waist and hauled me against him. His lips rested on mine for a moment. “I hate that I have to be away from you.” He leaned his forehead against mine.
“Do it for your career. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He nodded, smiled, kissed me one last time, and headed out the door.
I sighed as I
shut the door behind him.
I had no way of knowing when I’d see him again. I had no way of knowing what would change between us, if anything, or whether I’d still feel the same way about him—or if he would still feel the same way about me.
I wanted to believe that nothing would change, that we’d pick up right where we left off.
But something told me it wasn’t going to work out that way.
Life almost never worked out the way I expected it to. Why would this be any different?
twenty-five
My dad’s tour resumed with a concert in Philadelphia on Wednesday night, and we were set to leave the morning before. The first stop after a tour resumed always required a bit of rechecking and reworking, and the band was going to switch up the playlist for the last leg of their tour.
My schedule at Vintage only took me through Saturday, and Tim left me off the schedule when the week ended. Parker hadn’t lied; he’d texted or called me every day, but we’d only chatted for a few minutes at a time. Either I was at work or he had to get back to work, so time was tight. When he wasn’t in the studio, he and the rest of the members of Flashing Light were busy revising, reworking, and practicing.
He would send me random texts throughout the days to let me know he was thinking about me.
He never left my mind for a second.
As much as I was excited to spend the next few weeks with my dad, I couldn’t help but feel the loss of time spent away from Parker. He gave me things I had been missing for a long time, but more than that, he gave me things I hadn’t even known I needed.
Safety, for one.
I wasn’t sure what was going on between my dad and Randy. When my mind called on the memory of the night Randy had hit on me, a twisted fear wrenched through me.
Having Parker close helped me with that fear.
I supposed Bruno—the ex-cop George recommended to follow me until I left for the tour—also made me feel protected, but I hated having someone watching me everywhere I went.
Parker was different, though. He managed to make me feel safe without hovering the way Bruno did.
Vintage Volume One Page 14