Page 64 of Parker

“We’re not making out. We’re watching the movie, pausing to eat, and then we’re watching the rest.”

Huh. Shoot.Maybe, for all that she loves this film, I chose the wrong one. But then she sits down beside me, letting her head fall on my shoulder. I put my arm around her, pulling her against my side, loving the small sigh she makes as we get comfortable.

Parker’s sitting next to me. Watching a movie next to me. Cuddled next to me.

And this is just the beginning, I think to myself as Diana Prince unwraps a gift from Wayne Enterprises. My heart squeezes with hope, chased with a sudden and unwelcome burst of worry.Please let this be a beginning, and not just some crazy intermission that sees us returning to our previous acrimony when we return to Skagway.

Her shirt reads,What Happens In Vegas, Stays in Vegas, and I hope—against hope against hope against hope—that it isn’t a predictor of our future. More than anything, I want,What Started In Vegas,Follows Us To Skagway.

***

Three hours later, as the credits run, and despite her no-nonsense instructions when the movie began, she’s fast asleep.

As instructed, we watched the first hour without a hint of impropriety and only paused it to feast on pizza and wings. But no doubt owing to a full belly and a little too much Chardonnay, Parker fell asleep on my shoulder right around the time Sir Patrick revealed himself to be Ares, and I didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

She snores softly against my neck, and though I know I should probably extricate myself from the couch, cover her with a blanket and go back to my room, I don’t want to. I’d rather sit beside her, her head pillowed on my shoulder all night long.

I reach forward for the remote and turn off the TV, leaving us in darkness. But as I lean back, my lower back screams in pain from almost three hours of slouching. I need to shift us both to a more comfortable position if I’m planning to stay.

Hoping that she doesn’t get upset with me when she wakes up in my arms, I lift her head gently, lie down behind her, against the back of the couch, then lower her head, lift her legs onto the cushions and pull her body against mine. Big spoon to her little, I close my eyes, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo, and thinking about what I want when we return home.

I want to keep moving forward.

I want Parker to be my girlfriend.

I want her to love me as much as I love her.

When the time is right, I want her to move in with me.

And eventually, one day, God willing, I want to see her wearing my ring, a baby in her arms with Stewart-blonde hair and Morgan-green eyes.

I’m not sure when my thoughts become my dreams, but the next thing I know, gold streaks of sunrise make my eyes flutter open, and I find myself still on the couch in Parker’s room, her body still flush against mine, still in my arms. Except she flipped over in the middle of the night so she faces me now. Her chest pushes into mine with every breath she takes, and her sleepy, half-lidded eyes stare tenderly into mine.

I blink at her, surprised to find her so close, then pull her closer, pressing my lips to her forehead.

“Morning,” she whispers, her breath soft and warm against my throat.

“Morning,” I say, my voice gravelly with slumber. “Shhh. If this is a dream, I want to keep sleeping.”

“It’s not a dream,” she says, her lips landing on my skin. She presses them there, against my pulse point, for a long moment. “It’s real.”

“I love you, Park,” I tell her because we leave the bubble of Las Vegas today, and when we get back to Skagway, I don’t want her to forget.

“I know you do,” she says, kissing my neck again.

“I want to make love to you, Park.”

She inhales deeply, her heart fluttering like mad against mine. I can feel it beating through the thin fabric of her T-shirt and mine. “You do?”

“Yeah. Of course. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember, baby.”

She leans away from me, so her eyes can scan my face, so she can see the truth of my love and longing in my eyes. I hold her gaze steady, and in that look I infuse every drop of love I have for her. Every time I yearned for her. Every moment I fantasized about her. Every second I longed, with every fiber of my being, for the privilege to love and be loved by her.

“Make love to me, Quinn,” she tells me, winding her arms around my neck and pressing her lips to mine.

It takes my brain a beat to register what’s happening, what Parker’s requesting. My body doesn’t require the same time, however. My cock, which woke up fully aware of Parker in my arms, throbs with anticipation, every beat of my heart filling it fuller and making it harder.

I kiss her back, my tongue sliding against hers as I roll her onto her back. Reaching behind my neck, I yank at my T-shirt which pauses our kiss as it’s pulled between our faces. My knees dig into the sofa cushions as I lean up, throwing my shirt on thefloor. Parker sits up too, running her hands over my chest, then looking up at me with a little grin.

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