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I can’t go back because things have to get better for me, eventually. I got three hours of straight sleep last night instead of two before waking up and reaching for her. That floored me when it happened the first time. She only ever stayed over once, but somehow a habit had formed. In my dreams, she isn’t there. In my dreams, I wake alone just like I do in reality. In both situations, I feel an utter sense of loss.
Just sex shouldn’t leave me sad. I should be reflecting on the good times, the orgasms she so easily pulled from my body.
Maybe she was right, and this is exactly what she meant when she explained why she was upset that I didn’t tell her I was a virgin.
Maybe I’m infatuated with her because she was my first. I guess despite your age, you still have immature responses and form a bond to your first.
“That look is dangerous, Jude. Wanna talk about it?” Kit perks up, so Flynn continues, “Alone in my office?”
“I’m good,” I tell him.
Talking in his office might actually be a good idea, but that takes me away from being able to see Parker when she leaves, and my blood is heated with just the prospect of having her eyes on me again even if it’s for the briefest of seconds.
“I’m here when you’re ready,” he offers with a quick smile.
The man is no stranger to his own love-life problems. He walked away from a woman he had feelings for because he felt like it was the right thing to do. He spent a while groveling before that woman gave him the time of day again. If I thought groveling would’ve worked with Parker, I would’ve jumped on it, but behaving that way only proves her point.
Conversations wane and flow, changing several times as the minutes tick by, but I can’t keep up. All of my focus is down the hall, a million questions floating through my head.
Then Wren leaves his office with a folder in his hand, and it takes all I have not to tackle him and grab it from his hands. I know it has to do with Parker when he glances in my direction, looking at me with his lips in a flat line instead of that wide devious smile he usually wears.
There’s a case, and with the range of things we do, she could be hiring the company for security at a party, or she could be in a bind over sleeping with a politician or witnessing a murder. It could be a million reasons considering the spectrum we work with.
The longer I sit here, the wilder those scenarios become inside my head.
Kit just watches me like I’m an animal in a zoo exhibit that’s about to attack the trainer, and Flynn is reading something on his phone, glancing up at me periodically with knowing sympathy in his eyes.
Chapter 28
Parker
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Black,” I say as he escorts me into his office.
“Deacon, please. Quinten gave me some information, but I don’t have many details. Can you please tell me all of your concerns?”
I get into the story about the man harassing me, leaving out my suspicions about who he could be.
Deacon listens, head nodding as I go through everything, but he doesn’t look satisfied when I’m finished.
“Ms. Maxwell, the only way for us to help you is by knowing all that you know.”
He watches me, the scrutiny of his gaze making me shift in my seat, or it could be because I know Jude is nearby and he’s really the one I’m craving to see.
I shove that thought down and straighten my spine.
“He thinks I’m having an affair with his father.”
“He said this to you?” I have to look away. “Are you uncomfortable alone in here with me?”
“No,” I answer quickly as his fingers work over his keyboard. “I’m just—there are things in play that aren’t—I don’t like talking about them.”
A quick knock hits the other side of the door. Deacon tells whomever it is to enter, and I look up to find the gentleman I saw in the break area talking to Jude. He’s devastatingly handsome, a charming grin on his face as he looks down at me.
“Gaige Ward.”
I shake his hand. “Parker Maxwell.”
“Hayden’s friend,” he says, but there’s a hint of something in his voice that makes me think I’m more than just that.
“That’s right.”
“Ms. Maxwell is having a problem with a stalker.”
“I wouldn’t call him a stalker,” I rush to correct.
“A man who follows you to work, vandalizes your car, and then shows up at your place of residence is a stalker, Ms. Maxwell, and if that’s not the case, I’m certain the information you’re unwilling to share will clear many things up for us.”
