Every Time We Touch: A Redeeming Love Novel (Book 5)

by Parker, J. E.

  She thrashed her head back and forth, reaching for the pleasure she knew I could give her. I pressed down on her clit harder, circled the small nub faster. Legs tightening, her head fell back. A high-pitched scream tore from her lips and any control I still possessed disappeared faster than Houdini.

  I slammed my fingers deep, curling them to hit the perfect spot. Her screams continued as I once again tapped her clit with my cock, pumping my fisted hand up and down the shaft.

  Her orgasm waned just as mine hit.

  “Fuck!” I bellowed, watching my come spurt out, covering her perfect pussy in milky ropes.

  White spots danced before my eyes as I released my shaft and trailed my fingers through my release, massaging it into her swollen lips. She looked up at me, her ocean blue eyes glistening. “What are you doing?”

  “Marking you,” I replied, my voice rough to my own ears.

  A lazy smile quirked her lips. “You’re awfully possessive, Hulk,” she teased.

  I hovered over her, my lips and inch from hers. “And you’re awfully mine.”

  That was the bottom damn line.

  Nineteen

  Carissa

  I woke to the sound of my alarm.

  Bleary-eyed and still half asleep, I grabbed my phone off the bedside table, silencing it before it could wake Kyle. Still fast asleep, he laid behind me, his chest to my back.

  Dropping my phone onto the mattress beside me, I untangled my legs from his, and rolled over, bringing us face to face. Determined to let him sleep as long as possible, I propped my head on my hand and stared down at him, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took.

  Lord, he was beautiful.

  Never in my life had I seen another man like him before.

  I mean, I’d seen plenty of attractive men—Hendrix being at the top of the list—but none of them could hold a candle to Kyle. Not even close. As Mama used to say, he was so dang delicious I could’ve eaten him with a spoon.

  If only she were here to meet him…

  Pushing the gut wrenching thought back, I slid a finger down the center of his chest and over to his side where a lone tattoo decorated his tanned skin. I ran my fingers over the black and white angel wings that dusted his ribcage. A piercing pain pricked my chest as I traced the elegant calligraphy beneath the wings, each letter working to spell out a single name.

  That name? Lily.

  For the millionth time since we’d met, my heart broke for him. Life wasn’t fair, that was a fact, but it certainly hadn’t been kind to Kyle. The pain of losing his little sister, combined with the guilt he harbored over her death would’ve been too much for most people to bear. But somehow he’d found the will to keep going, a testament to his strength.

  I wished I could go back in time and stop the events that broke him. Though I couldn’t do that, I had every intention of digging out the shattered pieces that remained, and with a bit of luck and a lot of determination, I was hell-bent on fixing it, one broken piece at a time.

  It would be one of the hardest things I’d ever done, but Kyle was worth it.

  More than worth it.

  I’d just traced over the last letter when a strong hand wrapped around my fingers, stopping all movement. I gasped and looked up, meeting Kyle’s sleepy gaze.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

  Unable to tell if he was angry at me for touching him there, I bit my lower lip and remained silent. Kyle never got upset with me, but I feared the tattoo was off limits. Everything that involved Lily was a sore spot for him. He seldom discussed her with me, and the few times he had, the short and mostly one-sided conversation had ended with him flying into a rage, something I prayed wasn’t about to happen.

  “Answer me, Carissa.”

  I hesitated, not knowing what to say. Then, “I was looking at your tattoo.” My fingers trembled in his grasp. “I’ve seen it before, but I’ve never had the chance to look at it and—”

  Eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t read, Kyle sat up and released my hand.

  Unease unfurled in the pit of my belly. “Are you mad? If so, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “No,” he interrupted before turning and trailing a knuckle down the side of my face. “Why would I be mad?”

  I shrugged and sat up. Crisscrossing my legs beneath me, I picked at the comforter, averting my gaze. “I know it’s hard for you to talk about her, and I don’t want to overstep or make you upset. I just…”

  “You just what?”

  Be honest with him, I told myself.

  “I just want to know about her,” I answered honestly.

  “Carissa, look at me.” Like always, I turned my body to face his, obeying his command. Our eyes met, and I shivered from the intensity in his gaze. “When it comes to you and me there aren’t any boundaries. You want to know something, you ask. You understand me?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “But, baby,” he continued. “I’m telling you now. My past? It’s ugly, Beautiful Girl. Real damn ugly. I’ve got a truckload of baggage and enough regret and guilt to suffocate me. The last thing I want is to spew that rancid shit all over you, but I won’t keep anything from you. Ever. So if you want to know ask, but keep this in my mind—my story is fucked up.”

  My eyes searched his before dropping back to his tattoo. My feelings were conflicted. I didn’t want to bring up things that would cause him pain, but at the same time, I wanted to help ease his guilt and remove the baggage he carried around on his shoulders.

  The only way I could do that was by finding out exactly what I was up against.

  I blew out a small breath and sent up a silent prayer. Please don’t let me mess this up.

  Eyes still locked on his, I laid my free hand on his belly, sliding my fingers back over to his side where the tattoo was, the beautiful ink a stark contrast to his smooth skin. “Tell me about her.”

  It felt like forever before he spoke.

  When he did, my emotions rose in my throat, nearly choking me.

  “Teacup was beautiful,” he said, a small grin on his face. “But she was a lot of other things too. Smart, funny, and loud.” He chuckled. “Christ she was loud.”

  “Most little girls are,” I replied, knowing full-well Heidi and I had been the same. “What else?”

  “She was a typical girl, I guess. Loved dancing, singing and playing in her sandbox outside.” I smiled. Though I hadn’t been lucky enough to meet Lily, I knew I would’ve loved her. “If she were here, she’d be attached to your hip,” Kyle added as if hearing my thoughts. “Heidi’s too.”

  My chest tightened, but I masked the tumultuous feelings that brewed inside me.

  She should still be here…

  Anguish lined Kyle’s face, replacing the grin he’d worn seconds before. “She was seven when she—” he paused “—died.”

  Instant regret slithered through my veins. “We don’t have to talk about this, honey. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No.” He reached for me with this free arm, and I went to him, laying back down next to him. His bare skin was warm against mine, and I melted into his side like butter. “I need to talk about her more. Like you, Lily was one of the few good things in my life. She deserves to be remembered.”

  Throwing an arm over his belly, I rested my head on his chest. “Tell me more.”

  He sighed and leaned his head back against the headboard. “She was perfect, Carissa. Perfect and sweet and full of life.” Of that, I had little doubt. “She was obsessed with Disney movies. Finding Nemo especially. I can’t tell you how many times we watched it the summer it came out on DVD. Swear to Christ, baby, she had every line memorized. She would make the funniest faces when she mouthed the words along with the characters.” He chuckled again. “I always got a kick out of that.”

  Lily sounded so much like Heidi.

  Tilting my head back, I looked up at his handsome face, waiting for him to continue.


  His eyes glazed over as he recalled memory after memory. “She loved the park more than anything,” he said, softly sliding a finger down my arm. “When me and Ty or me and Hendrix played a game of pick up I used to take her with me so she could play on the slides.” Rolling his tongue over his bottom lip, he stared off into the distance. “That’s what she was doing the day she…”

  “… was taken,” I finished for him.

  “Yeah.” His jaw ticked. “I was supposed to be watching her, but I wasn’t. I was so goddamned focused on beating Ty and then arguing with him after I won that I stopped paying attention to her. If I’d only been watching her instead of getting in a pissing contest with him, I would’ve seen—”

  In the space of a second, fierce protectiveness zipped through me.

  I won’t let him say it…

  I won’t let him blame himself.

  I jerked upright and stared down at him, my heart thundering. “Don’t you dare,” I said, my voice holding more bite than I intended. His eyes flared, but I didn’t back down. “Regardless of the circumstances, what happened that day is not your fault.”

  “Baby—”

  My spine snapped straight, and I climbed to my knees. Releasing his hand, I rested my palms on my thighs. “Don’t you baby me, Kyle Tucker,” I hissed. “I don’t care if you and Ty were arguing, I will not sit here and let you tell me that Lily being kidnapped was your fault.” He opened his mouth to say something, but I kept fussing, not giving him the chance to speak. “Because it is not.”

  “Carissa, you don’t understand.”

  That’s where he was wrong.

  I understood plenty, including the fact that he’d spent the last two decades blaming himself for a tragedy he wasn’t responsible for. After witnessing first-hand the pain and guilt he carried around, it was no wonder he was so full of anger.

  If our roles had been reversed, I doubted I’d be able to function.

  What he’d been through was too much for the strongest of souls to survive; much less a child.

  Wanting to fix him, to absolve him of the darkness that ate away at his soul, I swung my leg over his hips and straddled his waist. Cupping his cheeks with my hands, I stared down into his eyes, willing him to believe the words I was about to speak. “I know you feel guilty and I know you blame yourself… But Kyle, honey, listen when I say that all this self-blame you’re holding onto is complete horse-pucky. What happened to your beautiful little sister was not your fault, and it is past time you accept that not-so-small fact.”

  His face twisted.

  Hands firmly on my hips, he dug his fingers into my skin. I was unsure of what was going through his head, but it was clear he was battling something.

  It was a battle I wanted to help him win.

  “Let me in, Kyle,” I begged. “Tell me what’s going on in your—”

  In an unexpected move, he moved me to the side, depositing me on the mattress. Sliding his fingers into his hair, he wordlessly jumped up and marched across the room, giving me his back. I winced when he tugged hard on his silky locks, his chest rising and falling in quick succession.

  “You’re wrong,” he bit out, his voice tortured. “I told my parents I would watch after Lily.” He pulled on his hair harder, his white-knuckled grip unrelenting. “I gave my father my word I would watch after her, that I’d protect her.”

  At that moment, I felt his pain.

  In the deepest recesses of my soul, I felt it.

  “I lied, Carissa…”

  I climbed off the bed and took a step forward. “Honey—”

  “I fucking lied, and now she’s gone.” Kyle spun around, meeting my gaze. “And it’s all my fault. If I’d only been paying attention to her instead of arguing with Ty, I could’ve stopped her before she ever made it to that motherfucker!” His voice rose as darkness flitted across his face, showing me a side of him I’d never seen before.

  As angry, as irate, and as downright scary as he looked, I didn’t flinch. Like the stubborn woman I was, I stood my ground, refusing to back down as he continued. “That son of a bitch, the one who took my baby sister and killed her had been watching us since we stepped foot in that park!”

  My eyes filled with tears, but I refused to let them fall.

  “He saw that I wasn’t paying attention, and took advantage of my screw up!”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “The fuck it wasn’t!” he yelled louder, his face beet red.

  Though I knew he wasn’t yelling at me, but at the agony that held him captive in its unforgiving grip, his raised voice still made the fighter that lived inside me rise to the surface. In an instant, my spine transformed to steel and every bit of southern sass I’d inherited courtesy of Mama barreled forward.

  It’s time to throw a dying duck fit…

  I moved in his direction, uncaring that I was naked as the day I was born. Stopping in front of him, I snapped my head back and looked up at him, my eyes filled with fire. “You listen to me, Hulk,” I said, jabbing a finger into the center of his chest. “You may be good looking as can be, and you may have the ability to make me melt into a puddle of goo at the drop of a hat, but if you ever, and I mean ever, holler at me like that again, I’m gonna cream your corn.”

  I wasn’t joking.

  Not the least bit.

  I’d watched Mama give Daddy an attitude adjustment more than once, and I was more than willing to do the same.

  “Got it?”

  The anger lining Kyle’s face dissipated. “Cream my corn?” he asked, blinking. “Is that what you just said to me?”

  “Yes,” I fired back, “and I meant it too.”

  “Carissa—” he started, a small smile playing at his lips.

  “No,” I snapped, interrupting him. “You can laugh at me in a minute, but first you’re going to listen to every word I’m about to speak.” Kyle quirked a brow yet said nothing. “I don’t know every little detail, but I know enough to say with one-hundred percent certainty that what happened to Lily is not your fault.”

  His face dropped.

  I kept going.

  Drive your point home, Carissa, I told myself.

  “It doesn’t matter that you turned your attention to Ty instead of her. You didn’t kidnap Lily and you dang sure didn’t harm her.” The words tasted like acid rolling off my tongue. Still, I didn’t falter nor slow. “You are not responsible for her death, Kyle.” I squared my shoulders, readying myself for the fight that would likely come. “Like Lily, you are a victim.”

  As I expected, he exploded.

  “I am not a fucking victim!” he yelled, refusing to see the truth. “What I am is a low-life piece of shit who should probably be shot for the mistakes I’ve made and for the lives I’ve ruined!”

  Turning away from me, he took off down the hall, headed for the front door. If I didn’t catch him in time, he’d slip outside. But that didn’t matter. I’d chase him to the ends of the earth if need be.

  Maddie had once told me that Kyle needed someone to fight for him and make him see reason.

  That person would be me.

  I may have been quieter than a church mouse at times but working at the shelter for the past four years had taught me to stand up and throw a verbal punch or two.

  Kyle could try to evade the truth.

  But he wouldn’t be successful.

  Come hell or high water, I swore on everything precious I’d find a way to knock some sense into his thick skull. With nothing stopping me, it was time to pull out my figurative sewing kit and thread a needle. Kyle had been torn apart by guilt long enough; guilt which wasn’t his to carry.

  It was a situation I intended to fix, stitch by stitch.

  Starting now.

  Determination flooded my veins as I opened his dresser and pulled out a shirt. Pulling it over my head, I followed him, my steps measured and calculated.

  I reached him just as he grabbed a pair of basketball shorts from a laundry b
asket sitting on the sofa. He started to put them on, but I ripped them out of his hand and flung them across the room. Where they landed, I don’t have the slightest clue.

  I wasn’t paying the least bit of attention.

  “Rule number one,” I said, my fisted hands on my hips. “You don’t get to walk away from me. I don’t care if we’re hollering the house down or on the verge of killing each other, you never show me your back and then leave me.”

  “Leave you?” Confusion marred his features. “You think I would leave you, of all people? Jesus Christ, Carissa, I’d rather shoot myself in the face.”

  “Then don’t walk away from me,” I replied, my voice a smidge calmer. “I don’t care how mad you are or what the problem is, if we disagree about something you better take a seat and get comfortable because we will work it out. One way or another.”

  “Mad at you?” With each second that passed, his expression grew more confused. “Why in the absolute hell would I be mad at you?”

  I blew out a frustrated breath. “Because of what I said about you being a victim.”

  He shook his head. “I may not agree with what you said, but I’m not pissed…not at you.” Turning to face me fully he slid an arm around me, pulling my body flush against his. “There isn’t a single thing you could do to anger me.”

  His words, along with his touch, were sweet. “You say that now, but you have no idea what I’m planning.”

  Tilting his head to the side, his eyes skimmed over my face. “Yeah? And what are you planning?”

  “I’m planning on fixing you,” I replied, honestly, “because I don’t like seeing you broken.”

  Exhaling, his eyes slid closed for the briefest of moments. “Baby…” he started before pausing. “You can’t fix me. I’m too fucked up.”

  What a bunch of baloney!

  My chin wobbled as angry tears once again filled my eyes. “Don’t you dare say that because it’s not true. I have an infallible game plan in place and a sewing kit on hand. Trust me, Hulk”—I lightly tapped my chest—“I’ve got this.”