Page 46 of Twisted Needs

“I don’t want him.”

“That’s right.” Something flickers in his eyes, telling me he needed to hear me say that. “You’ve always been my special boy,” he whispers. I nearly choke on the breath that gets caught in the back of my throat. “A little growing up doesn’t change that.”

“It hasn’t,” I whimper, closing my eyes and getting lost in the moment. I nuzzle into his palm, riding on the relief that crosses through me. My entire body ignites with an electric buzz, and the need to feel the weight of his body pressed to mine is impossible to push away. “I’ll never grow out of being yours.”

There’s a beat of silence before something slips through. “You were never his,” Parker mutters, but it honestly feels like he’s telling himself that. He isn’t talking about Seth, and as soon as I open my eyes, I know the thought terrifies him as much as it should.

Hell, it terrifies me. I guess a small part of me has always felt that way. He’s my safety, and I can’t explain it, but even as a child I knew. And as fucked up as I am, I’ve craved this since the moment I knew I could have it. The older and more involved I get, the easier it is to forget the version of Parker I grew up with over the version of him I have now, especially because it feels so fucking tangible.

There’s no warning before he closes the distance, slow and deliberate at first with every single move. My brain completely shorts out, and for a second, I can’t move. I can’t even fucking breathe or think. All I can process is the fact that Parker is kissing me. Like actually fucking kissing me. He initiated it.

The world narrows until there’s nothing except him.

His warm, slick tongue slips into my mouth without any resistance, crushing itself against mine. His hold on me tightens, tugging my head up a little to give him deeper access. I hook my arm around his neck, finally connecting our bodies after all this time. My warmth meets the hard, coolness of his muscles, meshing together seamlessly.

Parker presses his palm into the small of my back, holding me firmly in place, but it doesn’t stop me from still trying to climb him like a tree. I’m practically throwing myself at him, heat gathering low in my stomach the moment I draw out a bellowing groan from him.

I don’t think Parker means for it to last. I think it’s supposed to be a mistake—a split-second lapse in judgment. But it doesn’t stop. His thumb shifts against my cheek, finally loosening his grip. And then, somehow, the kiss deepens just enough that my stomach flips completely.

My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. I finally gather enough courage to move again. To do something. My hand comes up and brushes against his wrist. The second I lean forward to kiss him back—Parker jerks away. The reaction is immediate. Almost visceral, like somebody dumped a bucket of ice water over his head to wake him up from a crazy dream. “What the fuck.” The words leave him under his breath. He’s already backing up and putting up walls.

I stare at him. My lips still feel warm. Parker drags a hand down his face, his chest rising sharply. “Fuck,” he mutters again to himself.

“Pet’ka—”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than intended. His eyes squeeze shut for a second. When he opens them again, he won’t quite look at me.

My chest constricts. “What…was that?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” The words hit harder than the kiss. Parker shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“No.” I stand so quickly my barstool nearly tips over. “Stop. No, don’t do that.”

His jaw tightens. “Don’t do what?”

“Act like it didn’t happen. Don’t take it back.”

“I’m not acting like it didn’t happen, Anders.”

“Then why are you acting like it’s some horrible mistake?”

The question hangs in the air. Parker finally looks at me with something raw flashing across his face, but then it disappears almost immediately. “Finish your sandwich,” are the words he decides to speak, completely avoiding this question I just asked.

I blink. “What?”

“Finish your sandwich and I’ll drive you back to your dorm.”

My chest constricts. “Park⁠—”

“Finish your sandwich.” His voice is calm again in the most sickening way possible. The kind of calm that means he’s already shut a door in his head. Before I can stop him, Parker turns and walks out of the kitchen. The sliding glass door rattles open, then shuts behind him.

I just sit there completely frozen.

Through the window, I watch him cross the deck as he digs a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lights it with shaking hands, taking a long drag like he’s needed it all day. His head tips back toward the gray sky like he’s trying to figure out how everything just got so complicated.

But he of all people should know that this has never not been complicated. Now, it’s finally starting to unravel, which probably scares the living hell out of him.

CHAPTER 12