Page 17 of Twisted Needs

My eyes widen like it’s my best performance. “You watched him skin a bear?”

“I did…Luca’s stomach couldn’t handle it. Fucker hid in his room with his head in a bucket.”

I cling onto every word that leaves his mouth like they’re tiny specs of gold.

“Sounds like Luca,” I snort.

“Right?” he laughs.

All of a sudden it hits me all at once. We’re sitting so close to each other that I can feel the warmth coming off his body. We both must’ve scooted towards the middle without even realizing it. Our heads are angled with not much space between them.

“He used to be so fun,” Parker murmurs, softening his expression. It’s like he suddenly remembers who he’s talking to. He freezes for a moment and gives me a weird look.

“I wish I could’ve seen that side of him,” I remarked.

“He was great,” Parker says with a tender look in his eyes.

What he doesn’t seem to remember is the fact that I was probably five or six then. I was home with Emelie while he and my own brother were off fucking around on a ski trip.

“You know—you really do look just like him.” And then he playfully taps my cheek in a way I’ve seen him do to Luca millions of times.

But then his hand lingers, settling against my cheek in a way that most definitely has never happened with my brother. Something electric shoots right through me, but it’s a feeling I don’t think I’ve ever really felt before. It’s like desire or something else. Just feeling his palm touch my cheek does enough to make me melt.

“I’m sorry,” Parker tells me a moment later. “That I stole your brother from you.” At first I think he’s being sarcastic, but then he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I should’ve pushed him to try harder.”

To my own drunken mind, this is all basically a marriage proposal.

“Don’t apologize,” I murmur, frowning.

“No,” he shakes his head and gives me a hardened expression. “He should’ve been home with you.”

My breath stutters. All the blood drains from my face, leaving sharp, prickly heat.

“I just want you to know that I’ve always cared about you.”

“Park…” I whisper, holding his gaze. I don’t realize what I’m doing until I’ve already done it.

One second I’m sitting beside him trying to survive the way he’s looking at me, and the next I’m swinging a leg over his lap. My hands find his face like they already know where they belong as I kiss him clumsily. There’s nothing practiced about it. It’s all impulse and emotion and a million beers worth of courage colliding at once.

And for one horrible half-second, Parker doesn’t move at all. My stomach drops instantly. But then his hand lands low and firmly against my waist. The shift in him is immediate enough that it steals the breath from my lungs.

His fingers slide further around my waist, yanking me closer before either of us fully realize he’s doing it. I feel his other hand brace against the couch cushion beside me, his head tilting slightly as the kiss deepens hungrily.

My body is attuned to every single sensation. The warmth of his mouth. The scrape of his stubble against my skin. The slow drag of his thumb over my side like he forgot where his hands were supposed to stop. I can feel him breathing differently. I can feel myself shaking.

Parker kisses me like he forgets who I am. He pushes me down to the couch and hovers over me, looking at me ravenously for a moment before I feel his hot mouth latch onto the side of my neck.

I’ll admit that this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about kissing Parker. But all those other times were so fucking different than what it’s actually like. He isn’t soft. He doesn’t take his time. He just…takes. He owns. And, my God, he doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens suddenly, heavy hand spreading up my chest to pin me down to the couch. When his lips find their way back to my mouth, the small sound he makes against my mouth is so soft I almost think I imagined it.

I don’t know what to do with my hands. My entire focus is on the low, primal grunts he makes while he’s biting down on my bottom lip and sucking on my tongue. The moment I finally work up the courage to snake my hand up beneath his shirt to feel his hardened chest, everything stops.

Parker shoots up from the couch, his chest rising quickly from being out of breath. He covers his mouth with his hand and just shakes his head. The realization hits him all at once, and I can actually see it happen behind his eyes. Whatever existed in the last two minutes collapses immediately under the weight of it. His hand slips from my back. “You can’t do that,” he says quietly.

No we shouldn’t. No I can’t.

You.

Like the entire moment belonged to me alone.