Page 101 of Parker
“Soon, baby. The doctor said in a few days.”
“It’s not soon enough. How can I look after you here? I want to be at your beck and call.”
I raise an eyebrow and smirk.
“There is one thing you could do for me to make me feel better.”
She gives me a sexy smile. “And what’s that, Mr. Parker?”
“Marry me. Again.”
She laughs through a tear. “I’d marry you every day if I could."
Chapter forty-four
The Parker Family Home, Glasgow
Nicky
Evan’s soft snores echo from the baby monitor to my side. He finally drifted off ten minutes ago. Joel has been upstairs with him for almost an hour, rocking him as he would nod off, then wail, refusing to let sleep take hold.
The pipe creaks in the wall, an old sound in a modern world signaling Joel turning on the shower. For a moment, I think about going upstairs to join him, but we’ve not been intimate since before my attempt at being a hero. My confidence wavers, so I stay where I am, sitting on the sofa in one of his t-shirts.
His body has taken a few weeks to heal from his injuries. He’s still bandaged, but the way he moved today told me he was feeling better. The noise from the pipe stops, then minutes later, I hear the padding of bare soles on the stairs.
Joel appears, shirtless, skin still wet from his shower. He has wrapped a white towel around his waist and curls, still damp,flop onto his forehead. His eyes land on me like I’m the thing he came down for.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
I bite my lip, his unexpected compliment making me giddy.
“This is where you belong.” He strolls over, and I pat the cushion beside me. “Here with me, in our home.”
As he lowers himself to sit, the towel around him splits, exposing his muscular thigh. He catches me staring, taking my chin between his strong fingers, raising my eyes to his. “Eyes on me,” he whispers. “Fiancée. That ring means something.”
Joel presented me with a brand-new engagement ring a few days ago. Handmade and perfectly simple. A silver band with one diamond. He refused to let me wear my original rings.A new beginning needs a new symbol.
“Fiancée,” I repeat, my face still in his grip. “That sounds good.”
“Wife sounds better.”
His free hand moves to the hem of the t-shirt I’m wearing. He nudges upward toward my waist, exposing more of my legs. His eyes track every inch of my skin, like he’s burning it into his memory. My mouth dries. I know how this is going to end.
With one arm still bandaged, Joel isn’t at full fitness. But the bulge beneath his towel says otherwise.
“You nervous?” he asks, green eyes holding mine.
“A little.”
“Me too. But I want this. I want you, tonight.”
I swing one leg over his lap, straddling him slowly. The towel bunches beneath me as I settle onto him. His good hand slips beneath the t-shirt, his fingers hooking into the lace of my thong.
“Let me take care of you,” I whisper, leaning down to peck his lips. “You’re injured.”
“The parts you need aren’t.” I chuckle, leaning my forehead against his.
We both close our eyes, taking time to just be together, reconnecting again for the umpteenth time. So much has happened, so many times we’ve tried again. This time it has to work.
