Etched in Stone (Six Degrees Series Book 2)

by Statham, Mayra

  Sitting against the headboard, her body in front of mine, I slowly comb her hair. Her soft sighs and relaxed body in front of me, I don't want to move away. Once her hair is untangled and smooth, I put the comb to the side and she leans back against me.

  Silently our hands meet, fingers entwining with one another, my face going to the crook of her neck, breathing in her light scent.

  “Your mom’s not going to like me anymore,” she says and I wait to answer.

  “Does it matter if she does?” I ask, wondering where this is coming from.

  “I want her to like me. If she likes me… maybe you and I….”

  “We what?” I ask her, curious about her train of thought.

  “Can have a future,” I smile against her skin.

  “We already have that, angel. So many tomorrows, one day this will be nothing but an ugly memory. Fuck, so many tomorrows that we won’t remember this one day.” I tell her and she burrows deeper into my front.

  “He said you were in on what he was doing,” she whispers and my body turns cold, that son of a bitch.

  “What?” I hiss.

  “I didn’t tell the police because….”

  “Why?” I ask stiffly.

  “Because he was lying, there was no way…,” her voice is soft, I cut her off.

  “I wasn’t”, I clip and she tucks her body even more into me.

  “I know.” I know. Fuck. She is my angel. Damn it. God I love her so damn much!

  “She knows already, my mom knows, angel. She’s worried about you. She knows her dad. She’s just worried about you.” I tell her and her body goes stiff and she turns slightly and looks up at me. Her dark eyes surprised and confused.

  "She is?” She asks, not hiding the shock she’s feeling.

  “Yeah. She wanted to come out this week, take care of you, but I told her to give us some time.”

  “Oh.” One word, but her body melts right back into mine, burrowed deep into my front.

  “Angel?”

  “Hmm?” She mumbles, cuddling back into me, and I stroke her dark thick hair.

  “My sisters know too.”

  “Wow,” she whispers.

  “Angel?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m going to try not to push too hard, too fast. I know there is a lot we need to talk about, but there is something you need to know.” I tell her, my heart beating hard against my chest.

  “What?”

  “I love you.” Those three words fall from my lips as I’m stroking her hair and I can’t stop talking, “I love you with everything I am. You’re it for me. You don’t have to say anything….” She sits up and as she’s doing this, I stay quiet. Slowly, she moves her body over mine until she’s straddling me. Her hands up on my face, her face bruised but even then she’s the most beautiful thing. Sunsets and sunrises have nothing on the beauty that is my angel. She’s quiet, her fingers grazing my jaw, cupping my face, but everything I need to know is in her eyes. Her eyes say it all.

  “Say it again.” She whispers, and my hands immediately move to each side of her face, holding her gently, similar to the way she is still holding mine. My hands move into the softness of her dark locks.

  “I love you. You are everything to me.” I tell her and I see it. I see the smile move from her eyes down to her lips, a smile working itself on her beautiful face.

  “I love you, Parker.” She tells me, leaning her forehead against mine, her beautiful face smiling and her eyes bright and honest. No walls, no bullshit.

  “I want to kiss you.” I tell her and I watch her eyes close, her lips still in a smile, they open slowly, dark chocolate staring back at me.

  “Then kiss me.” She whispers against my lips.

  So I do.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Liz

  It’s been a month since I’d been beaten into an ugly mess.

  I went back to work two days after resting at Parker’s house, just like Parker promised. We went together at night after his days at work. He would sit beside me. At the beginning he was okay just watching, but little by little he asked me to teach him some of the things I did, so I taught him, and he was getting really good at making fondant and buttercream frosting. In the entire month, there’s only been one night that Matt sat next to me at the bakery while I worked on sugar flowers, and even then Parker made it back to me before ten that night, taking us back to his place.

  We’ve kissed. He kisses me every chance he gets or feels that I’m okay with it. He’s gentle and sweet, and the moment things heat up he stops. Things haven’t gone further than that, and for the most part I’m okay with it. But I do miss the intimacy we shared. I miss his body. Yet in its own way, the way we are right now, has only added to the closeness we’d shared before the whole Duke debacle started.

  We start and end our days together. There are still nights I wake up with nightmares of that horrible windowless room. Parker always holds me close, whispering into my ear how much he loves me. Always reminding me of the fact no one will ever hurt me again. He says it with so much conviction, that I believe him.

  Now a month later, sitting on the oversized comfy lounger in his backyard, the sun shining warm and bright, spring is in full swing. It’s a Saturday, and I just came back from the bakery, pretending to be reading a Sophie Samuels novel that Lucy’s been pushing on me to read. Instead of actually reading, I’m watching Parker working with wood and tools in his backyard, next to the shed. Stealing glances beneath my oversized dark sunglasses, drinking lemonade.

  His jeans are hanging low exposing the sexy V below his abs. His chest is bare, tanning nicely under the sweet California spring sunshine. A light sheen of sweat covers his skin, making his dark chest hair look as if it’s glistening. My hands itch to touch him. The way he handles every tool he works with, the confidence in which he uses them holds them, only makes every single pore in my body buzz with excitement.

  Sitting up straight, I stop pretending to read, throwing my e-reader on the table next to me. Pulling my bare legs under me, I sit and blatantly watch him. In soft denim short shorts and a white tee that fell over one shoulder with a picture of a nerdy Marilyn Monroe screen printed on the front in deep black, her lips bright red. I pull my sunglasses off, and just watch him.

  He’s playing music softly by him as he concentrates on working on whatever the heck he’s working on. His face moves up to look at mine, and my breath hitches in my throat. A sexy half smile spreads over his lips, and he takes my breath away. So damn hot! I watch as he slowly and calculatingly takes off his safety goggles and places them on the work table, his grey-eyed stare on me, a full smile on his handsome face as his body struts over to me.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” He says smiling, giving me a sexy wink.

  “Yes?” I ask, batting my eyelashes dramatically.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I saw you checking me out.” He rumbles. The tone in his voice is familiar, one that I’ve missed. I hear that sound right before he stops things from getting out of control when we make out. I feel a warm rush of heat moving from my neck all the way down to my toes. My cheeks are burning, I bite my lip.

  “I have no idea what you mean… I was just checking out… your wood.” I say, laughing out loud, his laughter envelopes me as he picks me up, my legs wrap around his waist like it is second nature.

  “My wood, huh?” He says huskily against my neck and I move to give him more room. Both of us are still chuckling. “God, I love you,” he groans against my skin.

  “Mmm... that feels good…,” I moan softly. Both of our laughter stops, completely. Moving one hand below my ass so that he can hold me up and the other slowly starts to stroke the skin underneath my shirt. His touch makes me shiver, my nipples pebbling instantly.

  “Park,” I whisper, feeling his mouth travel from my neck to my collar bone.

  “I love your skin…,” he says in that delicious tone. The tone that lets me know he’s turned on. The tone in hi
s voice that tells me he wants me. It feels good to be wanted. Between licks and kisses, he keeps telling me he loves me, he loves the taste of my skin, the feel of my skin against his mouth and all I can say is his name, and not even completely.

  “Park…,” I whimper, feeling the slight scruff of his chin against my neck, shivers running through me, electrifying me. “Yes… Park….” I want him so bad.

  “Fuck.” He growls and I suddenly stiffen in his arms.

  My body is frozen solid, and he feels it. I don’t know why or what happened but it suddenly feels like I can’t breathe. My body has gone from scorching to frozen in less than a second.

  “Fuck,” he whispers regretfully, turned on tone gone, his forehead meeting mine, my eyes closed.

  “I’m sorry.” I whisper, dread seeping in that I’d messed up the sexy moment between us. Would I always mess things up between us?

  “Fuck baby, I’m so sorry.” His voice deep and guilty.

  “What?” Confused on why he would have to apologize.

  “I should have been more careful, are you okay?” His grey eyes worried as they take me in.

  “Baby…?”

  “Talk to me...please.” His concern is obvious.

  “I’m sorry. You growled and it took me by surprise…, everything else...everything else was okay.”

  “I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” He says putting me down. I look at him and can’t help feeling like an idiot, a broken idiot. I shouldn’t have. His voice is filled with regret and it repeats in my head. I shouldn’t have.

  “Right,” I whisper.

  He kisses my forehead gently, like a doll, and goes back to his work table. I sit back on the lounger, immediately putting on my sunglasses because I can feel the sting of tears threatening to come down. I stare at my kindle, so that if he looks at me he’d think I’m okay and had gone back to reading.

  Instead, I feel broken. How long would it be until he realized that? How long until he realizes I’m really not the one for him? He has a high sex drive, I know this. It’d already been a month and a week since we’d had sex. How long would it take him to figure out I wasn’t worth his time? The thought of living a life without Parker makes my stomach ache as a little gray cloud feels like it suddenly is following overhead.

  We pretend like everything’s okay, ignoring the elephant in the room as we shuffle through our Sunday off. We pretend that we are okay, like everything is normal, even though it clearly isn’t. We’re both stuck in our own thoughts. His are probably filled with how the hell he got stuck with me and mine are filled with nothing but how it’d be best for Parker, if I walked away. Free him up to find someone better. Someone who was less complicated.

  We just finished dinner and we’re picking up the kitchen, when his parents call. I tell him to take the call, and I’ll finish up the kitchen. Washing the dishes, still in my thoughts I didn’t realize the moment he walked back into the kitchen. I didn’t realize that he was staring at me. I didn’t notice until he came up behind me. His strong hard body is behind me and his arms are on the counter on either side of me.

  “That was my parents.” He tells me, his lips at my temple.

  “I know.” I smile, still washing the dishes.

  “They’re coming out next week.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll make sure the rooms are all ready for them.”

  “Thank you.”

  We stay quiet. I keep washing dishes, and he stands there. His body is like a shield against everything and anything, protecting me. It makes me realize that I might not have it in me to walk away from him.

  “You’ve been quiet.” He says, his fingers grazing the bare skin that my tee doesn’t cover at my waist.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Getting a new apartment,” I lie, sort of. His body holds still and then his mouth returns to my neck and I close my eyes.

  “Do you remember the first night I stayed at your place?” He asks, and I wonder what he’s up to.

  “Yeah.”

  “You were quiet then too.”

  “I was nervous,” I admit shyly.

  “And now?” He asks and I freeze.

  There are so many words lodged in my throat that they burn. I have to be honest. If I want this to work I have to put everything out on the table, like he’s done time and time again. Now, it’s my turn. I’m nervous about so many things and I don’t know where to begin. I close my eyes slowly, and do something I haven’t done in a long time I just let my heart speak.

  “What happens when you realize I’m not worth it?”

  “What?” He whispers in a scary tone.

  “I’m scared…,” I tell him and immediately feel the tension radiating off of him.

  His body is still and my hands quickly cover his not wanting to lose his touch. The touch that helps to make me brave, I open my eyes and turn my body. My front is now touching his. Our gazes meet one brown, one grey and I keep talking.

  “Not of you. Not of you hurting me, not physically. What if we…? What if I can’t…?” Feeling completely frustrated at not being able to express every sentiment I feel. All of it rounding off to one thing.

  One thing and I just blurt it out, “I miss you.” I tell him, accidently a little too loudly.

  “I’m here.” his voice strong and confident.

  “I miss being close to you.” I tell him and his unusual gray eyes soften.

  “I’m right here.” His confident voice is slightly grating on me. I’m trying to tell him something. Something big and he isn’t getting it.

  “You don’t get it, Parker.” Feeling frustrated, my hands on his chest, his body close to mine, fingers holding onto the soft green tee he’s wearing. The scent of his soap, the smell of wood and the warmth from the sun, surrounds me.

  “I miss being with you. I miss….”

  “I’m right here, angel.” I look up at him. His eyes are hot. Hungry! Wow.

  “I’m right here,” he repeats, his eyes are on mine and move to my mouth. Suddenly, I can’t find my voice. I want to say something, but I can’t. It’s like he senses this because he steps up to the plate like he always does when it comes to me.

  “I haven't wanted to push you. I wanted you to heal, I told you, baby I wasn’t going to push. I … fuck angel…!” Constrained need laced in his voice, hearing it makes my breathing pick up. My nipples tighten under my satiny bra.

  “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” I admit quickly. There it is the ugly truth that had been lingering inside of me. I want him to see me, not the ugly bruises or scabs.

  “What?”

  “You… you saw what I looked like. I know what I looked like…. I looked….” Tears sting the back of my eyes, my breathing is slightly off.

  “What?” He asks. His voice is gruff. Sexual frustration and tension is radiating between us.

  “Like a monster.” My voice is soft and breathy, “I looked like a monster.” My eyes sting with unshed tears.

  “What?”

  “I looked like…, I looked completely broken and you haven’t touched me. I mean you have, but even then you’ve been guarded and cautious and ….”

  “And what?” He asks, something flickering in his eyes.

  “And I keep thinking that it is because every time you looked at me… that’s what you see. I’m scared that when you look at me, that’s all you see. The broken, bruised-up, mess of an ex-stripper who lied to you….”

  “Shut up,” his eyes are burning hot, his nostrils flaring.

  “Park…?”

  “Shut up, angel….”

  “No… everything I did…,” I keep trying to argue but he keeps interrupting me.

  “Angel, shut it and come with me.” He takes my hand.

  “What?”

  “Come with me.” He starts to walk, my hand is in his and I have no choice but to follow.

  He takes me to his bedroom and opens the bathroom door. He tips his head, silently telli
ng to go in to the spa like oasis.

  Standing behind me, his arms loosely wrapped around my waist. I have a feeling I know what he’s going to do and my heart goes from a skip to a full on gallop.

  “Park?”

  “Shhh….” Standing in front of the vanity, his hands on my waist, reminds me so much of the first time I’d been here.

  “Honey….”

  “Shhh… do you trust me?” I look at the reflection in the mirror. His face is serious and not giving anything away. Not one hint as to what he’s thinking.

  “Par...?”

  “Do. You. Trust. Me?” His deep voice rumbles through the silent room.

  “Yes.” I answer confidently. I trust him completely.

  One hand at my hip, the other moves slowly up my side and I can’t help leaning my body back against his.

  “The first time I saw you, you took my breath away.” His hands move my hair away from my neck. His fingertips graze up and down the skin where my neck and shoulder meet, my skin fills with goose bumps. “Then at the Breast Cancer Gala, it was like ...I couldn’t breathe and talk, but I wasn't going to chicken out. I had to talk to you. I asked about a fucking imaginary birthday cake, I was so fucking nervous just standing in front of you. All I kept thinking about was that my dream girl was standing right there. Right in front of me, and I couldn’t come up with a thing to fucking say. Like a complete idiot.”

  I smile at his reflection in the mirror. The way he looks at the spot where his fingers touch my skin makes my nipples tighten, a wetness surges between my thighs.

  “I thought you were the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on.” I tell him smiling, my body relaxes against his.

  “Yeah?” He asks smiling. It occurs to me that we’ve never really talked about this. We’ve been together for a little over three months now and never talked about it.