Page 16 of The Heat of Intensity

“What are we making?” Parker questions and rubs his hands.

I roll my eyes. The man is obsessed with food. The past few days he’s been staying with me he’s done nothing but hang around in the kitchen whenever I grabbed something to eat. Another reason why I’m thankful I regained the ability to see with my left eye. Moving around was a challenge without sight, but being able to make food or eat?

Adjusting felt like grabbing a sled and sitting backward while you jump off a waterfall. Seriously. Wielding a knife while you have no idea where your fingers are or the food for that matter? Yeah, no. Frozen pre-made meals were the way to go for me. I have regained so much more respect and awe for people moving forward with such limitations.

“Let me check really quick.” I open the fridge, along with a few cabinets to see what we’re working with and come up with, “Spaghetti?”

“Sounds delicious, babe,” he rumbles and places a hand on my hip. I feel his lips on the top of my head when he asks, “What can I do to help?”

“Cut the tomatoes?” I point at the counter where vine tomatoes are.

“On it,” he simply states, and we get to work.

I focus on making the sauce and cutting up an onion while stirring the ground beef. Every now and then I feel light touches on my hip, my shoulder, his lips on the top of my head; every time he walks by he lets me know he’s right there with me.

Soon enough we’re all sitting at the table. The three guys practically inhale their food all while I find myself smiling and enjoying their company. Weeks of shoving people away and being by myself has now changed in a positive way.

Even with everything happening right now, I’m still smiling and have a good and happy feeling flowing through me. My sister has found the love of her life, is putting herself out there more and more each day, and it’s giving me the chance to focus less on her and more on myself.

“We’re going to turn in early,” Parker states after he helped me do the dishes. “Talk tomorrow.”

We leave Walker and Luke sitting in the living room and head for my bedroom. Parker stalks over and closes the curtains.

“Smart,” I mutter, earning me a glare.

“What?” Shrugging, I add, “Not being able to see shifts priorities. And believe me when I say I discovered the error of my ways.”

“Not your fault that fucker is obsessed with you. Hell, I craved your body and wanted to possess your soul the first day we met.”

I let one of my eyebrows pull up in the direction of the ceiling. “At least you didn’t turn into a stalker. Though, the daily voice clips flooding my phone were a little obsessive.”

Parker snickers. “You returned every single one of those. Even if the first few only held your voice telling me to fuck off and mind my own business.”

“I’m glad you’re persistent,” I admit. “Those voice clips pulled me through the darkest days.”

He steps closer and pulls me flush against his body, his arms embracing me as he places his lips right next to my ear. “Every single voice clip you sent me brightened my day and warmed my heart in return.”

“Sounds like we balance each other out,” I whisper, my breath hitches when my heart skips a beat.

“Damn right,” he rumbles, taking my lips right after.

My fingers fist his leather cut to keep me grounded. This man has the ability to swoop me off my feet and throw me onto a pink cloud of pure bliss. He pulls back way too soon.

Smacking my ass he orders, “Go get ready for bed, woman. We need sleep instead of fucking that sweet, tight pussy of yours raw.”

I rub my legs together, still able to feel his presence from earlier today when he took me in the kitchen. Fucking me raw sounds tempting, especially knowing it involves his heavily pierced cock and balls.

Shit. He’s right. Taking it slow keeps it real instead of throwing ourselves into the whirlwind of pleasure. Besides, the way he spilled his intentions toward me makes me aware we have lots of time in the future to indulge in whatever our bodies desire.

With a huge smile on my face, I walk to the bathroom, making sure to sway my hips. I hear his groan and know he’s just as affected as I am. He’s mine in the way I’m his. Now, if we could end the stalker issue there wouldn’t be anything holding us back from exploring this relationship to the fullest.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A week later

– PARKER –

“You’re shitting me,” I growl and stare in disbelief at Kathleen.

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