“Hmmm, is that what it’s for?” I joke. I usually always have it locked when I’m home alone, but I was so out of it after the charity event that I barely made it to the shower then to bed. “How are you as energetic as you are? Lifting my head took it out of me.” I swear some people have it so much easier.
“I took medicine when I woke up. It’s wearing off now. My symptoms are mild compared to yours. Still feel like shit, though.” I take over what he was doing, diving into the bag with the medicine, doing exactly what he did for me only yesterday morning. It takes me longer. Parker looks like the need to take over is killing him slowly, but it’s out of the package, and I’m opening the ice-cold lemon-lime can of soda. Yes, it’s the middle of the day, but traffic was light, and I packed an icepack to keep everything from spoiling, just in case.
“Toast or soup?” I ask next after he swallows the pills, making it look sexy as he’s doing it.
“Nothing. You, me, and the bed. All I want to do is sleep. Maybe after a nap, I’ll have an appetite.” The husk in his voice is not due to tiredness; it’s lust, desire, and he yet again has my body tied in knots, on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see what’s going to happen next. “Key for you.” He holds out the silver metal after rummaging in his drawer for less than a second. Can the man be any more perfect? I bet he doesn’t even have a junk drawer with how fast he was able to locate it.
“I’d give you a key, but well, you have the code, so I guess we’re even,” I tell him. Parker has a chef’s kitchen, and given the opportunity to bake or cook, I’d take full advantage. I place my oversized purse I’m still carrying on a barstool. There’s no need to unpack it right away. I’m wearing leggings and an oversized shirt that has long sleeves. Though if Parker wants me in bed, I’ll definitely be looting his clothes for something different. He puts enough heat out to keep a whole room warm.
“We are.” I quickly put away the cold stuff. Everything else can wait. Parker watches the entire time, waiting until I’m finally done, then clasps my hand with his and leads us out of the kitchen, through the living room. I’m barely able to take in the rest of his place, making a memo to do that as soon as Parker isn’t sick and ready to collapse.
“Parker, I can’t keep up.” For every two steps of mine match one of his. People with long legs suck. They can see over the wheel of a car easier, clothes shopping is easier, and when walking, they can get there in half the time.
“I’ll just carry you.” There’s a grumble to his tone, and he stops us in our tracks.
“Oh, no, you don’t, big guy. You’re sick, have a fever and all of that jazz. Walking a tad bit slower would help.” I don’t offer for him to let go of my hand. Greedy, that’s exactly what I am when it comes to Parker holding any part of my body. He doesn’t respond. What he does do is slow down, thankfully, because the stairs are in sight, and I would no doubt trip going up them while trying to keep up with his pace. And a staircase it is. Three flights we go up. If someone ever wanted to retire at Parker’s house, an elevator would be a necessity. Still, he somehow manages to make it look effortless, and I’m the one with the perfect view. The shirt he isn’t wearing gives me all the access my heart desires to pant after him, a back that is as muscular as his front, the two indentations in his lower back, all the way down to his firm ass. Yep, I’d say Parker Hudson is one hundred percent perfect, even if he can give you mixed signals at times.
FIFTEEN
Nessa
Two days,that’s how long Parker was down for, the same as me, though all he did was sleep, drink, eat, shower, and repeat.
“Parker, go take a shower. I’ll take one in the spare bathroom,” I tell him when it seems the worst of what we had has finally run through him.
“I can wait, or you can get in there with me.” There’s a playful tone in his voice, yet I know he’d like it all the same. The whole time I’ve been here, he never wanted me far away from him, not even in his sleep. He’d hold on to me like he was scared I’d leave him.
“No. Now, go shower. At least allow me the time to snoop around your house. A girl has to see if there are any hidden skeletons in this place.” I’ve ventured around in between bouts of him sleeping when I could manage to wiggle out of his grasp during his naps without disturbing him.
“I’ve got nothing to hide. Next time you’re here, you’re in the shower with me.” It’s not a threat; it’s a promise, a promise laced with a hunger that makes my thighs clench, my nipples pebble, and has me thinking about how we woke up not long ago. My head was on Parker’s chest, leg hitched over his hip, the palm of his hand inside my panties holding the cheek of my ass. It was hard to miss that both of us are like octopuses in our sleep; it didn’t matter if one turned one way or the other did, we were both glued to one another. The one thing we haven’t done yet, that has me befuddled at one moment and understanding the next, Parker Hudson has yet to kiss me. He’s kissed my forehead, my cheek, and even my collarbone, which—hello! —might be my favorite of the three. Especially when he’s behind me, waking me up with the softness of his lips before licking the area before nipping at it with his teeth.
“That’s what they all say.” I roll my eyes, attempting to leave the bedroom before he talks me into staying. The third-floor bathroom is calling my name; it’s beautiful in its own way but nothing like the master bathroom. That’s also where the laundry room is and where my clothes currently reside in the dryer. It’s a good thing I thought about packing a spare set because they were needed, not that I didn’t pilfer a shirt or two from Parker. I often brought the collar of one to my nose to smell his unique scent when he wasn’t looking.
“Hey, Nessa,” Parker gets my attention when I’m at the doorway. I turn around, still wearing his shirt and my boy shorts from last night. He’s only got a towel wrapped around his waist, working fast from when only seconds ago, he had on what I’m not realizing is his favored loungewear of sweatpants.
“Parker.” He’s literally trying to kill me from desire.
“Us taking care of one another, spending our nights and days together, doesn’t constitute a date. The next chance we get, I’m taking you out, and we’ll either end up back at your place or here.” I’m perpetually going to need to bring a change of panties with me wherever I go. A look, him talking, feeling him pressed against me. It literally doesn’t matter; Parker has my panties soaked.
“You name the time, I’ll be there.” I walk away. If I don’t, I know what will happen. I’ll run to him, leap into his arms, forcing him to hold me, and then I’ll break. We’ll shower, he’ll do things to my body, things I’ve been fantasizing about. Parker on his knees behind me, my ass tipped up as he spreads the folds of my pussy with his thumbs, holding me open as he eats me. Or I’m the one on my knees, in the shower or his bedroom, one hand cupping his balls while my mouth slides along his shaft. The daydreams are endless, and they play in my mind all the damn time.
I’m heading down the stairs, ready to hop in the shower after I grab my clean clothes that I tossed in with a set of sheets. It was only fair that I took care of Parker like he did me. So, for me to ask for time to snoop around his house, that was a joke. I’ve been up and down all the floors of his four-story brownstone. The house is tastefully decorated, less color than I would have. I’m what they call a maximalist. I like color, furniture, artwork. The more the merrier, whereas Parker seems to veer more towards the minimalist style. The man doesn’t even have curtains. To be fair, he does have this really cool setup where, with the push of a button, the windows can go from semi-tinted to full on dark mode, not letting so much as a streetlight peep through.
“Parker, are you upstairs?” I hear a woman’s voice call out. My stomach sinks to my feet. He couldn’t have, right? I mean, there’s no way he could be gone from a woman’s life for nearly five days without her checking on him.
“Parker Hudson, I know you can’t possibly still be sick. Okay, fine, don’t answer me. I’ll send Ezra up.” Jesus, I feel like I’m living in an alternate reality, stuck in limbo on what I should do. Do I hide, or do I meet this woman head-on, rip the Band-Aid off before it goes too far? Thankfully, a few more steps will bring me to the bathroom, where I can quietly shut the door as well as the world because I’m truthfully at a loss for words. My thoughts go on a wild ride. Is the reason he really doesn’t have a keypad for his front door because people can hack into it, or does he just not want it for some other reason? Though, if that were the case, would Parker really be ballsy enough to give me a key so easily?
“Parker, yo, you okay?” I hide out in the bathroom, slowly creeping until I’m behind the door, my back to the wall, where I slide down, my ass meeting the cold marble flooring, head tipping back. And I guess this is where I’ll be for the foreseeable future, because try as I might, I can’t see Parker doing something like this. I think back on the way he took care of me, how he holds me against him, how we just seem to mesh together so effortlessly. The tears I was trying to hold back seem to come from out of nowhere, kind of like this whole fiasco of me hiding in the bathroom instead of facing things head-on, a characteristic trait I wish I had. I’m not assertive. I’d rather hide and ignore the situation instead of looking it in the face.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s Nessa?” There’s a frantic tone to Parker’s voice, the thudding of steps beating rapidly as he rushes down to meet Ezra and what I assume to be a woman who’s important to him.
“Vanessa is here? Son of a bitch, you didn’t tell me that, or I would have kept her from coming down a day earlier.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. The plot thickens, and not in a good way.
“She’s been here all damn week.” Parker sounds pissed. Me, I’m kind of heartbroken, but it’s time to dust my emotions off, pull my big girl panties up, and face whatever is out there.
“Parker Matthew Hudson, Ezra Hudson, what are you two getting into? I swear it’s like you’re still teenagers.” Great, now she’s joining the shindig, and the bad part is, I can’t not like her. If she’s like me in this case, the poor woman has no idea what Parker is doing.
“Hold on!” Parker yells down the stairs. I roll my eyes and stand up, unsteady on my feet. Hello, emotional overload. “Ezra, swear to God, do not go looking for Vanessa in that bathroom, or I’ll kill you.” His footsteps sound heavy on the stairs and stop in front of the bathroom.