Need You Tonight (9 page)

It had felt good. No, better than good. It had felt
wonderful.
Every time he touches me, it feels wonderful. And
terrifying
.

Quickly undressing the rest of the way, I throw my clothes into the washer and head to the bathroom to take a shower. As I wait for the water to warm, I eye myself in the mirror, turning this way and that. It’s been so long since I dated, that I have to wonder if Parker, or any other man for that matter, would like what’s reflected back at me? Not that any of it matters, because no matter what my body might want, my heart and brain aren’t there.

Yet.

At first, I try to respect his privacy and instead work on putting away my laundry. Only, that takes no time at all, because I’m only washing clothes for one. I take one of Braden’s old shirts and hold it up to my nose, my eyes closing as I try to remember what he looked like in it. How tight it stretched across his chest, the Marine insignia on proud display when we’d go off base.

He was proud of being a Marine, even when some new regulation would piss him off. I smile, finish folding the shirt, and stick it in a drawer.

The sound of a hammer echoes through the house as I walk to the kitchen. “Thirsty?” I call out, rummaging through the cabinets to get two glasses.

“A little,” Parker says as he walks inside. Shirtless.

Sweet Lord, the man is bare-chested. Staring at his chest and abs, and those darn make-a-girl-stupid vees on the side of his hips, I forget my own name.

While he washes his hands and splashes water on his face, I can only stand there, holding two glasses, and stare at him. His muscular back covered in tattoos, his broad shoulders, the way he looks in jeans… Water drips onto his chest as he grabs a paper towel and dries himself off.

Oh God, oh God.

“You cleaned up nice,” he says, glancing at me.

I whirl away, setting the glasses on the counter.
Ice, Brooklyn.
Ice and lemonade. My feet take over, propelling me to the fridge. I pull out a pitcher and a tray of ice. “So did you.”

“Except now, I’m all dirty again,” he laughs, and I try to swallow down a whimper.

“Hope you like lemonade. I made some to go with lunch.” I fill up the glasses with ice and lemonade, handing him one.

“Thanks.” He drinks it down and then fills it up again, before speaking. “I had planned to be back before now, but I got a phone call.”

“Maybe you should get on the Do Not Call list.”

He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. “They put mothers on that list?”

Thinking he’s kidding, I say, “Only if they’re really nosy and pushy.”

His head cants from side to side, bottom lip sticking out a little. “She might qualify for it.”

“You’re not joking.”

“No.”

I take a sip of the lemonade. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He eyes me for a moment. “She doesn’t live around here.”

“Neither does my mom.”

“Does your mom also frequent rehabilitation centers?”

I shake my head. “No, she’s never needed to. I don’t think she’s ever broken a bone.”

“A broken bone. Shit.” A sort of smirk tugs at his lips. “I shouldn’t be sharing any of this with you.”

It dawns on me that he’s not talking about injuries, and I feel ridiculous, but more than that, I want to make him feel at ease. I want him to confide in me. It’s obvious he needs it, all alone like he is. “How about this? I zip my lips and drink my drink while you get whatever it is off your chest.” I hurry to the kitchen table and sit down, miming zipping my mouth closed.

“Hard to drink if your mouth is shut,” he points out.

I mime zipping open my lips. “It only shuts to keep the words in, not anything else out.” Then I zip my lips closed once more, pleased as anything when his smirk turns into a genuine smile.

He walks to the table, spins the chair around and sits. My gaze drops to his chest, to the sprinkling of golden brown hair in the center that eventually leads to a thin line of hair that disappears under the waistband of his jeans. My body grows hot.

He clears his throat, and I force my eyes to his. “She wants me to fly out to see her and Brett. He’s the guy that… he’s my dad. But I didn’t know it until about two years ago. I mean, Cole and I always knew that his dad wasn’t mine because I’m Latino…Well, half. My mom’s white—she looks like a Barbie doll.”

There is nothing I want to do more than to get out of this chair and go comfort him right now. His eyes are sad and his broad shoulders are sagging a little, but a man’s ego is a touchy thing. I’d learned that with Braden. When they wanted you to baby them and be sympathetic, they would let you know.

I nod encouragingly at Parker.

He lets out a laugh, rubbing his jaw. A sexy, strong jaw with a hint of whiskers from where he hadn’t shaved. “Anyway, they’re out west, living in California, and she swears she’s completely cured. She wants to see us—me, my brother, and my little sister—but, the havoc she’s caused…the price I’ve—we’ve paid for her problems.” He shakes his head, his fingers curling and uncurling around the glass of lemonade. “I love her. I really do, because she’s my mom and I do remember the good in her, but the way she treated us the majority of the time, especially Cole… I don’t know if I can forgive her. No matter her issues. And she has a lot of fucked-up issues that aren’t her fault at all.”

He blows out a breath. “Jesus, would you listen to me?”

That’s my cue. Slowly reaching across the table, I brush his fingertips with mine. His eyes widen a little, but he finally lets go of the glass long enough for me to lace our fingers together.

Giving him a little squeeze, I smile sympathetically at him, even as I feel the connection between us burn through me.

“What do you think?” he asks, not letting go of my hand.

“If you can afford the money and the time, then you should go, but not because she deserves it or even wants it.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Go because you deserve to make peace with her. Life’s too short and precious to stay stuck in your past.”

His lips twist a little. “Then what’s
your
excuse?” Letting go of my hand, he leaves the table and heads outside.

Shit.
Like I have room to judge.

I finish loading my tools and stride to her. I need to make things right. She sat there, not saying a word, not judging me with her pretty eyes, and held my fucking hand. She didn’t criticize Crystal or say I should make up with her.

“Want to grab a bite to eat tonight? My treat.”

An odd look crosses her face. Her cheeks pinken. “I already have plans.”

Jealousy surges, though I have no right to feel this way, and the logical part of my brain is quietly reminding me that Brooklyn said she wasn’t ready to date, so it can’t be with another man.

“Where you going?” I take the container from her and set it over by the front door. She moves to the front porch swing and sits down. I sit my ass right beside hers, spreading my legs purposefully wide so we’re touching. Her floral scent tickles my senses. Her thigh pressing against mine doesn’t help either. I don’t understand it, really, how much I want to touch her. How much I want her to touch me.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve gone out of my way not to encourage any woman to touch me. If I had a need for sex, then I hooked up with a random girl and didn’t bother to stick around.

“To The Double Deuce…with my boss, Rowan, for a girls’ night out,” she clarifies. “Have you ever been there?”

Relief surges through me, replacing all that hot jealousy threatening to make me her bitch. “A time or two.”

“That means you’ve been there a lot.”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“And you’re very obvious.”

I lightly elbow her in the side, and she giggles. “I like to hear you laugh.”

“I like it when you’re the cause of it.”

Throwing my arms over the back of the swing, I turn and give her my goofiest look. “Are you trying to say I’m funny looking?”

“Oh no,” she giggles, “You are
sooo
handsome.”

I lean into her. “Don’t you know you can’t kid around about a man’s ego? They’re very fragile.”

“But not yours.” She looks up at me, our faces inches apart. “Yours is very strong.”

With my free hand, I cup her cheek, dusting my thumb across her bottom lip. “Do you forgive me for earlier, for being such an ass?”

“I don’t want to be stuck in the past anymore, Parker.”

“Maybe that’s something else I can help you with. Getting unstuck.” I lower my mouth to hers, keeping my eyes wide open to gauge her reaction. My heart’s beating like crazy in my chest. “Say you forgive me.”

She doesn’t pull away. In fact, she shifts slightly towards me. “I used to be really good at kissing.”

Smiling, I murmur, “I’m sure you just need some practice. Tell me your forgive me.” I need her forgiveness, and not just for that one asinine remark, but all of them. Every harsh word, every assumption… everything. “Please, Brooklyn.”

“I forgive you.” Her eyes flutter closed, and she presses her lips lightly to mine. It’s almost innocent, until her mouth parts slightly under mine. It’s an invitation to take control, to slake this burning need I’ve had to taste her fully.

Only, I don’t go deeper, I let her lead. I let her explore me, with butterfly kisses and a teasing tongue that has me gripping the back of the swing so hard that I’m half afraid it will splinter. Or maybe I’m the one who will splinter.

I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like this. So carnal, yet so sweet. So tentative, yet so bold. The taste of her is addictive. I can’t help but want more. I can’t help but meet every sweep of her tongue, every slant of her mouth, as she bites and sucks at my lips, drawing little sharp stings of pain that she massages away with her tongue.

Her hands touch my chest, fingers sliding over my pecs and then one nipple. I shudder and let out a groan.

She pulls away slightly, her eyes opening. “I kissed you.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I can’t believe I kissed you.”

Concerned, I stroke the side of her face. “Is that a good or bad? You can tell me. My ego can take it.”

She touches her lips, her other hand leaving my chest to rest in her lap. I want to grab her hand and put it right back where it was. “A little of both,” she whispers.

Her admission is all it takes for me to question my decision to get so close to her. I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen. This won’t end well. It can’t. She’s not over her husband, and I’m not over what I used to do. Who I used to be.

“I think,” I begin, and her pretty eyes get all guarded, “that we need to take a step back from this. From jumping into something that you’ll regret.”

My face grows hot, while my body grows even colder. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I shouldn’t have done that.” I jump to my feet. “Thanks for all your help today. I need to get ready for tonight. It’s been so long since I’ve been out that I’m not sure what to wear.”

Parker gazes up at me, his sexy face hard to read as he grabs my wrist. “I have a pretty good idea what you’re thinking right now, but it’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

He shakes his head, his jaw hardening. “No. The problem is mine. Completely and entirely mine. What just happened between us was my fault, not yours. I can’t take advantage of you. It’s not what you deserve. I’m not what you deserve.”

“Don’t you think I should be the judge of that? And for the record, you didn’t take advantage of me.”

“Brooklyn, don’t make this into a big deal.”

I snatch my wrist out of his grip. “I don’t understand you at all. First, you want to help me. Then you come up here, shirtless and doing that thing you do with your hands and lips… and—” Angry tears spring into my eyes. “I haven’t been kissed, haven’t been held… I haven’t been
touched
by anyone like that since Braden.”

“I know—”

“You do
not
know. You have
no
idea what it’s like to go years without being wanted. Without something as simple as a kiss or hug from the opposite sex. You have no idea how hard it was for me to push Braden out of my head to even contemplate anything so intimate. Maybe kissing, or touching, or sex isn’t a big deal to you, because you can have it any time you want, without guilt or the memory of someone you love hanging over you. But it is to me.” I take a sustaining breath and look him straight in the eye. “So excuse me for thinking what happened, no matter how simple or silly to you, is a big damn deal.”

He stands, his face dark and angry as he points a finger at me. “You have no idea what I find simple or silly or intimate. You have no idea what I think is a big deal, because all you were doing was using me to get over your dead husband.”

I flinch, like he’s written down his accusations in a book and hit me with it. “I did
not
use you,” I say hotly. Tears run down my face. “And I’ll never get over Braden. My heart doesn’t work like that, you—you
asshole
.”

Striding inside, I slam the door and lock it behind me, then lean against it. My chest feels like it’s about to burst. It’s so tight and full and heavy that I can barely stand the weight of it. My legs give out, and I sink to the floor, cradling my head in my hands.

There’s a soft knock on the door. “Brooklyn. Let me in.”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“I know you don’t, and I don’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you, but I fucked up, okay? Let me fix it.”

I don’t trust him to fix it. All he does is put me through the wringer, and I end up on the floor. “Go away, Parker.”

I brace myself for another knock, another round of him saying all the things I want to hear, but there’s nothing but silence.