Page 57 of Parker

“That’s right. Thanks.”

“Are you going to sit?” asks Parker, patting the seat next to her, but on a separate sofa. There’s a few inches of space between the seats, which feels perfect.

I take a seat. The way we’re sitting, our knees are aligned and just about touching between the sofas, but we’re looking at the view, not at each other.

“I can’t decide if I like it or not,” I tell her, watching the bright lights flicker.

“There’s something special about lights at night. But all things being equal,” she says, “I prefer the stars. Like, lying in the bed of a pickup truck, or on a blanket toward the end of Aprilwhen we still get a dark, inky sky. They twinkle and shine, some brighter than the others and some burning out. I can get lost in them.”

I turn away from the strip, staring at her profile, which is a far better view.

“I know what you mean.”

“Or the moon. A full one. Especially if it’s red or blue. Or corn kernel yellow. Nights like that, it’s almost like you can touch it.”

“What about the northern lights?” I ask her.

She turns to me now, away from the glass, and I realize that our lips are not even a foot away from each other, and I’m hungry for a taste of them.

“I love the northern lights.” She tilts her head to the side. “When it’s a rainbow of color on the horizon? That’s my favorite.”

I’m overwhelmed by her. By being here beside her. I don’t vet the words I say next. They tumble from my lips without permission. “Is it okay that I love you?”

Her eyebrows raise, but she surprises me with a tiny smile. “You can’t help how you feel.”

I lean a little closer to her, my knees touching hers.

“I want to kiss you so badly,” I murmur, one hand reaching up to cradle the side of her face.

“Then kiss me, Quinn,” she whispers, leaning forward to press her lips to mine.

It’s an explosion in my brain, in my heart, in my body, all of which die for a split second before being reborn in the sweet tenderness of Parker’s kiss. One of my hands caresses her cheek while the other reaches for her waist, sliding her to the edge of her seat and spreading my knees, so her legs can scissor with mine. She winds her arms around my neck, clasping her handsand drawing me closer until her breasts touch my chest, and her heart flutters wildly against mine.

Her lips are soft and sweet, and her mouth tastes of mint when my tongue slides against hers. She moans softly into my mouth, and I swallow the sound, threading my fingers into her hair as I demand more, and our kiss deepens.

My heart thunders, and my body buzzes. I taste her and smell her and want to memorize every touch, every sound, every soft whimper and adjustment of her fingers. I’ve never felt such intense love in all my life. It’s bigger than this lounge, than this hotel, than this crazy city and the night sky above it. It’s bigger than the myriad stars in that sky, none of which we can see because the lights down below hide the ones in the heavens. It’s bigger than Alaska. It’s bigger than the United States, continental and non-contiguous. It’s bigger than anything I know or have ever felt, and it’s been a long ten years feeling it all alone.

I slide my lips along her jawline and down the column of her throat.

“I love you,” I whisper near her ear. “I’ve loved you for so long, Parker Stewart.”

I feel her gulp beneath my lips and force myself to draw away.

Too much. Slow down.

Her fingers unlock from behind my neck, and she lets them fall.

But we’re running out of time.

I remove my hand from her face but leave the one on her hip. I’m grateful when she doesn’t push it away.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I got carried away.”

She puts two fingers under my chin and tips it up, forcing me to look at her.

“These feelings are old for you,” she says, “but new for me. You have to let me catch up.”

“None of this is old,” I tell her, my voice low and earnest. “All of it is new.”

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