My eyes glaze, drifting beside me on the bench and watching as streams of tears slip down my sister’s cheeks while she processes this revelation with me. She feels it in the same way I feel it. She’s always been in tune.
Bree uncoils my fingers until our palms are latched and squeezing tight. “Fight for her, Parker,” she breathes out, inhaling a frayed breath. “Whoever she is, fight for her in the same way I’ve never stopped fighting for you.”
I close my eyes, just as the sun peeks out behind a sky of white clouds.
This war might end in bloodshed, but for the very first time, I’m inclined to draw my sword.
Melody March is my true starting point. My reason for finally wanting… more.
And that’s something worth fucking fighting for.
I’m hard at work that night, sweating beneath my covered carport—my makeshift work station during the milder months. I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing or how long it’s going to take, but I’m compelled to do it anyway.
My carving is interrupted by two blaring headlights, accompanied by the sound of crunching gravel. Using the back of my wrist to swipe the line of sweat casing my brow, I squint my eyes into the intense beams. When they flicker off, I instantly recognize Melody’s car.
Shit.
I toss a stray tarp over my work in progress just as she slips from the vehicle and closes the door, her sneakers kicking up pebbles and rocks as she approaches me through the dim-lit drive. My legs are pulled in her direction, meeting her halfway. “What are you doing here?”
Melody bites her lip, the endearing habit illuminated by my work lamps. Nervous fingers slip into the pockets of her denim shorts when we’re face-to-face. “I wanted to see you.”
I repeat her words, as if I didn’t hear them loud and clear. “You wanted to see me.”
What a simple, straightforward concept. Melody wanted to see me, so she came over to see me. At nine o’clock on a muggy Saturday night after six days of no contact.
After I left her all alone at that meeting, even though I’d told her we could walk inside together. The image of her in my rearview mirror, standing in front of the building entrance, still haunts me, her eyes wide and wounded, her long braid dancing with the breeze.
I wanted to wrap it around my neck like a noose and let myself choke.
My heart twists with guilt. I was a fucking coward, a real asshole, deciding that running from my problems was a better solution than fighting for the possibility that this might not end with the both of us defeated, gutted and bleeding out.
“Yes,” she says softly.
She’s not pissed off. She’s not even a little bit mad.
I swallow. “Why?”
Why isn’t she going off on me? Clawing at me with sharp nails, or cursing me out with even sharper words?
Why isn’t she… done?
Melody continues to fight for something I’ve given her little reason to fight for.
So damn intrusive.
And fuck if it’s not exactly what I need.
Taking another tentative step forward, Melody’s emerald eyes blaze with purpose as she keeps them locked on mine. The swell of her milky breasts heave with every breath, stealing my attention before I slowly rake my gaze back up, stalling at her mouth.
Those full, parted lips stare back at me, teasing me with memories of them wrapped around my cock, sucking me off until I saw stars.
Fuck, now I’m hard.
Fighting the urge to strip her stark naked in my front yard, I pull my focus off her pink lips, and ask again, “Why are you here, Melody?”
My voice cracks with weakness.
Or… maybe not. Maybe it’s strength.
Strength to keep standing here, facing her, because I know I’m not fucking running this time.
“I wanted to know if you’ve thought about it,” Melody murmurs, her tone braided with emotion and a touch of lust. She’s feeling everything I’m feeling. “About taking this further.”
I told her this wouldn’t end well, but the one-fucking-percent chance that it could, compels me to dive right in headfirst.
Lifting my hand to her jaw, I dust a rough thumb along her cheekbone, my gaze skimming the perfect curve of her face, drinking in her doe-eyed expression. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”
“Y-You have?” Her voice shakes with a yearning for more. “What have you decided?”
My thumb slides to her mouth, tugging down her bottom lip as my entire body warms and thrums with need. With potential. Melody surprises me by poking her tongue out and tasting the pad of my thumb, laving it gently around the tip and making me shiver. My reply is temporarily seized by her fucking mouth as I’m blasted with more images of her between my legs.
A low growl rattles my chest, and I press forward until our torsos touch. Her breasts tease the front of my shirt, her nipples pebbling beneath her braless halter top. Both of my hands reach out to grasp her cheeks in the same way I did last week in the parking lot, only this time, I’m not letting her go. I’m going to fire my burning truths at her, and if they cremate me in the process, torch me into cinders and soot, then so-fucking-be-it. “You’re mine,” I grit out, my heart thundering, my soul alight. “You’re what I’ve been waiting for. You’re what I’ve been searching for my whole life, and I didn’t even know it.” Her gasp only makes me hold her tighter, and I swear I see tears glinting back at me, ready to fall. “Melody… you’re my starting point. You’re my turning point.” Pulling her forehead against mine, a strangled sound escapes her, and I finish with conviction, “You’re the whole damn point.”
Our mouths crash together, a collision of surrender, and Melody grips my shirt in her fists for support as I walk her backwards to the hood of her car. Our lips don’t part. Our hearts don’t waver. Tongues hungry, souls hungrier, I reach under her thighs and hoist her up until she’s seated on the hood. Her arms snake around my neck to hold me closer, and I moan into her mouth when our groins meld together. My erection throbs between my thighs, aching to be inside her again.
“I’m taking you right here,” I rasp, kissing down the side of her neck as my fingers weave through her hair. “Just like I wanted to that night in the rain when you danced on the hood of your car, soaked to the bone and fucking gorgeous.”
My fingers find the button to her shorts, and I unfasten them in record time, yanking down the zipper and discarding the denim from her hips.
Melody kicks them free with a needy whimper. “Yes. Please.”
“Please what?” A flimsy piece of red lace she calls underwear keeps me from the heat between her legs. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
“Be specific, Melody. Tell me how you want me.”
Jesus… for a guy who never gave much of a fuck about sex or talking, I seem to have progressed into dirty talk pretty effortlessly.
It’s her.
She brings out a side of me I never knew existed—possessive, dominant, savagely protective. I want to own every inch of her. Brand her with my scent, my essence.
Melody drags her fingertips to my hair, tugging at the strands. Then she shoves my face between her thighs until my nose collides with the damp fabric of her panties. “I want you there. Taste me.”