Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
FIFTEEN
Nessa
Two days, that’s how long Parker was down for, the same as me, though all he did was sleep, drink, eat, shower, and repeat.
“Parker, go take a shower. I’ll take one in the spare bathroom,” I tell him when it seems the worst of what we had has finally run through him.
“I can wait, or you can get in there with me.” There’s a playful tone in his voice, yet I know he’d like it all the same. The whole time I’ve been here, he never wanted me far away from him, not even in his sleep. He’d hold on to me like he was scared I’d leave him.
“No. Now, go shower. At least allow me the time to snoop around your house. A girl has to see if there are any hidden skeletons in this place.” I’ve ventured around in between bouts of him sleeping when I could manage to wiggle out of his grasp during his naps without disturbing him.
“I’ve got nothing to hide. Next time you’re here, you’re in the shower with me.” It’s not a threat; it’s a promise, a promise laced with a hunger that makes my thighs clench, my nipples pebble, and has me thinking about how we woke up not long ago. My head was on Parker’s chest, leg hitched over his hip, the palm of his hand inside my panties holding the cheek of my ass. It was hard to miss that both of us are like octopuses in our sleep; it didn’t matter if one turned one way or the other did, we were both glued to one another. The one thing we haven’t done yet, that has me befuddled at one moment and understanding the next, Parker Hudson has yet to kiss me. He’s kissed my forehead, my cheek, and even my collarbone, which—hello! —might be my favorite of the three. Especially when he’s behind me, waking me up with the softness of his lips before licking the area before nipping at it with his teeth.
“That’s what they all say.” I roll my eyes, attempting to leave the bedroom before he talks me into staying. The third-floor bathroom is calling my name; it’s beautiful in its own way but nothing like the master bathroom. That’s also where the laundry room is and where my clothes currently reside in the dryer. It’s a good thing I thought about packing a spare set because they were needed, not that I didn’t pilfer a shirt or two from Parker. I often brought the collar of one to my nose to smell his unique scent when he wasn’t looking.
“Hey, Nessa,” Parker gets my attention when I’m at the doorway. I turn around, still wearing his shirt and my boy shorts from last night. He’s only got a towel wrapped around his waist, working fast from when only seconds ago, he had on what I’m not realizing is his favored loungewear of sweatpants.
“Parker.” He’s literally trying to kill me from desire.
“Us taking care of one another, spending our nights and days together, doesn’t constitute a date. The next chance we get, I’m taking you out, and we’ll either end up back at your place or here.” I’m perpetually going to need to bring a change of panties with me wherever I go. A look, him talking, feeling him pressed against me. It literally doesn’t matter; Parker has my panties soaked.
“You name the time, I’ll be there.” I walk away. If I don’t, I know what will happen. I’ll run to him, leap into his arms, forcing him to hold me, and then I’ll break. We’ll shower, he’ll do things to my body, things I’ve been fantasizing about. Parker on his knees behind me, my ass tipped up as he spreads the folds of my pussy with his thumbs, holding me open as he eats me. Or I’m the one on my knees, in the shower or his bedroom, one hand cupping his balls while my mouth slides along his shaft. The daydreams are endless, and they play in my mind all the damn time.
I’m heading down the stairs, ready to hop in the shower after I grab my clean clothes that I tossed in with a set of sheets. It was only fair that I took care of Parker like he did me. So, for me to ask for time to snoop around his house, that was a joke. I’ve been up and down all the floors of his four-story brownstone. The house is tastefully decorated, less color than I would have. I’m what they call a maximalist. I like color, furniture, artwork. The more the merrier, whereas Parker seems to veer more towards the minimalist style. The man doesn’t even have curtains. To be fair, he does have this really cool setup where, with the push of a button, the windows can go from semi-tinted to full on dark mode, not letting so much as a streetlight peep through.