Page 11 of Pumpkins for Parker
“Should we start with you building up the fire?” I ask, trying to refocus on work.
“Sure.” He heads outside, and I follow him.
I watch as he builds the fire with practiced ease. His muscles flex under his flannel shirt as he arranges the logs, and I find myself taking more pictures of him than of the actual fire. He won’t mind if I keep some for my personal collection, will he?
When he starts preparing the food, seasoning the steak, and wrapping vegetables in foil, I can’t stop shooting. There’s something primal and deeply attractive about watching him work with his hands, completely in his element.
“You’re a natural at this,” I say, moving closer to get a close-up shot of the fire.
We’re inches apart from each other now, and my heart won’t stop racing. When our arms touch, he stops in his tracks and turns to me.
“Vesper,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something. Now. Before we continue this photoshoot. I’ll regret it if I don’t.”
“Okay,” I say with a shaking voice.
“I feel things for you that I’ve never felt before. I know it sounds crazy. But I can’t pretend anymore that I’m not falling for you. Tell me you feel it too,” he says, his voice rough. “Tell me I’m not imagining this.”
“You’re not imagining it. I feel it too. God, I’ve been trying not to, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Something fierce and primal flashes in his eyes. “Vesper.”
Then his hands are cupping my face. His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones, and I’m drowning in the intensity of his gaze.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I caught you in that orchard,” he growls.
His lips crash against mine with raw need, like he’s been holding back for too long and finally snapped. His mouth moves against mine with hungry desperation, claiming me completely.
And I let him. I grab his shirt and pull him closer. One of his arms wraps around my waist, hauling me against his hard chest, while his other hand tangles in my hair.
“Mine,” he murmurs against my lips, the word vibrating through my body. “You’re mine, Vesper.”
The possessive declaration should scare me. Instead, it sends liquid heat through my veins. I’ve never been claimed like this, never felt so completely wanted by a man.
“Yes, I am,” I breathe against his mouth, surprising myself with how easily the words come.
But I mean them. Fuck, I want to be his. Forever.
“Christ, Vesper. What are you doing to me?”
“The same thing you’re doing to me,” I whisper.
His thumb traces my bottom lip. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave either.”
It’s true. I came here for a job, with plans to return to Charleston and rebuild my career. But standing here in Parker’s arms, with the taste of him on my lips, Charleston feels like another lifetime.
“Then stay,” he says as he picks me up and carries me inside his cabin.
Chapter Six
Parker
I lift Vesper into my arms like it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done—because it is—and carry her inside. I cross the living room in a few strides and kick the bedroom door open. The light filtering through the windows casts a glow over the rumpled bed sheets I didn’t bother making this morning, but that doesn’t matter now. I’m not thinking about neat sheets or any of the chores I planned on doing this afternoon. All that matters is Vesper.
