Page 138 of The Wrong Heart

Oh, God.

His words alone have me buckling with bliss, quaking beneath him as my one hand grips the back of his neck, while the other tugs his hair. Skin on skin, bodies slick with sweat, grunts and pants and moans severing the silence of the dark room. It’s undiluted passion—pure intimacy.

And it’s my undoing.

Parker slams into me, hitting so, so deep, growling with need, and I feel myself peaking, the tingles swelling into the ultimate crescendo.

And when the mighty waves of ecstasy claim me, I cry out, loud and unhinged, holding him tighter and closer than ever before. My nails dig into the nape of his neck as stars burst behind my eyes and my body detonates in his arms.

Parker clutches me to his chest, gathering me in a fierce embrace as he follows behind me, groaning into my ear as his body tremors with the ripples of his release.

As the shocks flicker and fade, he collapses on top of me, shifting his weight to the side and pulling me close in a protective hold. His erratic breaths beat against my temple, and I dance my fingers along his upper arm, feeling satiated, fulfilled, and adored.

Loved.

Parker slips out of me, but he doesn’t move away—he only pulls me farther to him until I’m curled against his chest, drifting away.

Before my dreams steal me from the moment, I hear him whisper into my hair, “I love you.”

I fall asleep with a smile, knowing that for the first time in sixteen months, I’m finally and fully atpeace.

Daybreak spills in through dark curtains, tickling my sleepy eyelids.

Stretching out my legs, my toes graze against his toned calves, and memories from the night before assault my senses with currents of euphoria.

A smile draws on my mouth as I blink awake, opening my eyes to bright sheaths of sunlight filtering through the small bedroom. Craning my neck, I glance beside me, finding Parker lying on his back with the bedsheet pulled up to his trim hips.

My heart lurches.

He’s fast asleep, only partially covered, his scars on full display.

Swallowing, I inch in closer, feeling like an intruder.

Did he mean for me to see him?

He would have put his shirt back on…right?

It’s not difficult to talk myself into raking my gaze over him, soaking up his beautiful, tarnished skin, and moving in until my fingers lift and graze along the evidence of his terrible abuse. Tears sting my eyes, my throat closing up.

He’s covered in scars, most of them the size of a cigarette cherry, but some larger, more jagged and cruel. My stomach twists with anguish, with blinding empathy, and all I want to do is hold him tight and never let him go.

I heave in a shaky breath, dragging my index finger up the length of his stomach until I reach his muscled chest. More little scars. More horror stories. More—

Wait.

Something in me goes still, my eyes scanning over him with confusion. Trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make any sense at all.

My insides pitch with anxiety. The warm tingles swimming through me turn to ice, freezing my veins. With a shaky hand, I sweep my fingers over the planks of his chest, as if I’m trying to uncover something that isn’t there.

No.

This… can’t be right.

Parker stirs beneath my frantic, roaming hand, his lashes fluttering as he stretches out his limbs. He inhales a slow breath, lazily coming back to reality, when all of a sudden, his whole body tenses and his eyes pop open, registering my presence. Processing my discovery.

We lock eyes.

Mine spear him with stunned panic, while his… shimmer with apology.

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