“Melody.”
“Go home, Parker,” I order, throwing him a glare over my shoulder. “You’re not welcome here.”
He catches my wrist to spin me around, and I almost slip on the wet grass.
My arm pulls free like he just scalded me. “Don’t! Don’t touch me.”
“Goddammit, will you stop?”
“Why are you here?” I demand, chest heaving, outrage escalating. “You were pretty loud and clear at the lake tonight. I’m just a nuisance to you. A thorn in your side, a gnat in your ear. A fly in your fucking soup.”
Parker opens his mouth to respond, to make his intentions known, but his tongue freezes and he hesitates. He just kind of stares at me for a moment, his brows pinching together like he’s trying to work through something, or maybe he’s just angry and agitated like he always is.
I try again, forcing myself to soften. “Why are you here?”
He swallows. “I…” Parker trails off, seemingly unable to get the words out. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his jaw ticking when his eyes dip down, raking over me and lingering on my partially exposed breasts plastered against the now see-through tank top. He flicks his attention back to my face, his gaze hot and stormy. “You drive me fucking mad.”
My arms shoot up to block his view of my chest, my defenses flaring back to life. “If you came over to insult me, I’m not interested. I’ve had a really shitty day that you’ll be pleased to know you contributed to.”
“You think that pleases me?”
“Yes, I do.”
Parker swipes dark, wet hair from his forehead, letting out a grunt of exasperation. “That doesn’t please me, Melody. You want to know what pleases me?” He advances on me like a hungry predator. “Not giving a shit. Not caring. Being alone, keeping to myself, and not giving a flying fuck about whether or not you’re still out in that lake, broken-hearted, or at home crying yourself to sleep, thinking you’re not good enough for an asshole like me.”
I refuse to let his words chip away my armor. “You’re flattering yourself. I’m fine.”
“You don't get it,” he shakes his head. “I'm supposed to hate you. I'm supposed to hate everything you stand for. Now, all I want to do is fuck you.” Parker yanks my arms apart, putting my breasts back on display for his eyes to drink me in. His voice lowers, the words cracking. “What the hell are you doing to me?"
My body heats, my pulse throbbing as his fingers tighten their grip on my wrists. My angry breaths of indignation turn shaky and uneven. "I'm just being me.”
"Yeah,” he mutters, hardly a whisper. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Parker inches closer to me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, my heartrate quickening.
No.
No, he doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to rip me open, then think he can be the one to stitch me back together again. That’s my job.
Reining in my growing arousal, I tug my wrists free and move away, watching as his eyebrows dip once more. “Go home, Parker,” I tell him, hating the way my voice sways. “If you’re looking to scratch an itch, I’m sure you have plenty of options.”
“Is that what you think?” His frown deepens, lips pursing together as he studies me. “You think I’m out there chasing tail, and you just happen to be next on my long list of options?”
I shrug, faking my way through indifference. “Maybe. Probably.”
Parker slowly nods, stepping forward and closing the gap between us. His proximity is alarmingly potent as his eyes skim across my face, a green blaze of wildfire. “How about this: I haven’t had sex in eleven years—haven’t thought about it, haven’t wanted it. Haven’t even cared.” He leans down closer, until his lips graze my ear like a whispered kiss, and he breathes out, “Or how about this: I’ve jerked off more times in the last week thinking about you, than I have all goddamn year.”
An electric jolt shoots through me, and my hands lift involuntarily, gripping the hard muscles of his arms to keep myself from teetering.
Parker’s head raises slightly, pivoting until our eyes lock. “So, believe me when I say you’re more than just an itch. You’re a fucking revolution.”
My fingernails claw into his tensing biceps, a little gasp escaping my throat. As my eyelids flutter right along with the colony of butterflies in my stomach, I lean into him, drawn to his words, his scent, his aura.
But just as I’m about to give in to him—again—he pulls away.
He steps back, leaving a chilly emptiness in his absence. My eyes pop open, spitting fire as he keeps trekking backwards through my yard. Leaving. “Good,” I seethe, sick of his mixed signals. Sick of the crumbs he throws me right before he steals them all away. “Go.”
Parker holds my gaze for another moment before spinning on his heels and storming through my backyard.
His dismissal infuriates me.
What was the point of that?
What the hell was the point?
Fists clenched at my sides, I shout at his retreating back, “I hate you. You’re nothing like Charlie. You’re the opposite of him in every way, and it makes me sick that I…” Parker comes to an abrupt stop, his shoulders tautening as his head bows. I swallow. “It makes me sick that I…”
“That you what?” Parker faces me then, twisting in place. “Say it.”
My bottom lip quivers with the words I can’t seem to expel.
“Fucking say it, Melody.” He traipses back over to me with fury on his face. “What makes you sick? That you want me?”
I shake my head as he advances.
“Admit it. You want me.”
“No.”
“No?” Parker comes to a halt when we’re toe-to-toe, his chest swelling with labored breaths, something savage glinting in his eyes. “You’re lying. You’d let me take you right here, right now, in the pouring fucking rain, like a wild animal.”
Shudders rip through me, stopping my breath. His gaze slips to my heaving breasts, my nipples tight, nearly cutting through the thin fabric, and when he glances back up… there’s a shift. Something palpable, visceral. I feel it, he feels it, and I think the sky feels it, too, because just then, lightning cracks above us, an aggressive flash of heat that mimics the look in his eyes.
We pounce on each other.
I go for his mouth, but he dodges me, biting my jaw instead, then trailing his tongue along my neck as he shoves the straps of my tank top off my shoulders and pushes the fabric down past my breasts. Parker groans when my breasts spill free, dipping his head lower until he’s sucking a nipple into his mouth and I’m arching into him, my body crumbling. My moan mingles with his as my hands frantically fumble with his belt buckle, unlatching it and searching for the zipper.
Parker bends further and grasps me right beneath the thighs, lifting me into the air and hooking my legs around his waist. I squeak in surprise, but it dissolves into a needy whimper when his erection presses between my legs and he carries me off somewhere, who knows where—I don’t really care as long as he keeps suckling my nipple like that, his teeth nicking the sensitive flesh and inciting my pelvis to grind against the hard bulge in his jeans.