CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Raven
The way he looked at me was unnerving. His gaze was unwavering, intense, almost soul-piercing. I didn't know what it was about his eyes, about the way they looked at you so steadily it felt as though he could see right through you.
That was how it felt knowing he was looking at me despite the fact my own gaze was trained on the wall in front of me. It felt as though Parker could see right through my silence and into the deepest part of me where the words were stuck. Where they couldn't break through the thick silence I was suffocating in.
How was I supposed to tell him how I felt when I didn't even know? Was I supposed to tell him that I'd spent half my night struggling against my inability to regret what we'd done? Was I supposed to tell him that no matter how hard I tried, the guilt was never more than a whisper? Was I supposed to tell him that I'd looked in the mirror and told myself that having sex with him was wrong but I couldn't bring myself to believe it?
Was I supposed to lie? To tell him all the things I knew I should have felt but didn't? Hell, I was guiltier that I didn't feel guilty. It was the most screwed up situation.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to feel the things I did for Parker Hamilton. I was supposed to be able to exercise the same control over my emotions the way I did the rest of my life and my business, but he shot all that to shit.
He wasn't the same guy I once knew.
I knew that, but I had no idea how right I was when he walked onto my parents' back porch. He'd never been tempting or dangerous to me, yet now, he was the catalyst for everything that could go wrong in my life. I wanted him but I didn't want to. I wanted to feel his lips against mine one more time.
His hand in my hair. His body against mine.
I wanted more than just the memory of those things. I wanted the reality of them, and that was why I couldn't speak. The words were stuck on my tongue, whatever they were. I had no idea what I wanted to say. This entire situation needed to be cleaned up, but I didn't know how to do that. I didn't think some lemon spray and a wet cloth would cover this.
Hell, a bottle full of bleach wasn't anywhere near enough for what we needed.
"I have to say that you excel at talking." Parker spoke after several silent, awkward minutes. "I agree with everything you've said."
My gaze flicked to him, and I glared. "I know asshole is your default mode, but there's no need to throw yourself into it so enthusiastically."
His quiet chuckle danced across my skin. "I know, but I want you to start talking before you bore me to death."
"I'll kill you myself if I have to."
"There's the Raven I know so well."
"You're such a monumental cockend."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Except when you moaned my name, of course."
I bristled. "I did not moan such a thing."
He quirked an eyebrow. "I heard you loud and clear, hotshot. It was practically a fucking prayer."
"Then I need to get to church and pray for my soul."
"I'll join you. Your soul needs more than one prayer."
"You're making this impossible!" I grabbed my drink and swallowed a mouthful. A shiver ran through me at the cocktail's potency. That was what happened when my brain overtook my common sense.
Hell reigned free.
"Then talk." Parker's words were clear and concise.
This was all I had. If I didn't talk soon, he would, then I'd be screwed.
"What the hell do we do?" My words spilled from my mouth before I could do a thing about them. "How do we take what we did and move forward? Are we meant to pretend it didn't happen?"
"Yeah." He said the word so simply, I didn't think he'd bothered to think about it at all. "That's exactly what we have to do. Never discussing it again is the only way Ryan will never find out."
"Right. Of course. So simple." I sipped from my glass again. It burned as I swallowed.
"Actually, doing that is another thing," Parker continued. "Because from my own personal experience, when I think about something too much, I tend to voice it. Which means I'm pretty fucked, because I can't stop thinking about fucking you."
I set my glass down and avoided eye contact. "I can see how that would be a problem for you."
"I see how this is going. I'm talking and you're avoiding. In more ways than one."
"It's pretty cocky of you to assume I've done nothing but think about having sex with you." Cocky, not incorrect. If only he were wrong.
"Cocky, confident...Are they really that different?"
"Parker, you're a fully-grown man. Stop talking to me like you're a dumb teenager, because if that's the way this conversation is going to go, I'm not interested." I swung my gaze up to meet his and found him scooting across the sofa to me.
His eyes were dark and hooded as he got closer, and his attention dropped to my lips for the barest fraction of a section before his gaze settled comfortably on mine. He was right next to me now, within touching distance, and that was exactly what he did.
He touched my hair, teasing several strands between his finger and thumb. A shiver tickled across my arms, and he leaned in, bringing his lips too close to mine. "You want to have a conversation like an adult, Raven? Then stop hiding stuff. Be honest with me about how you're feeling right now. That works two ways, hotshot. You can't have me be honest with you only to keep your own feelings inside."
"Actually, that sounds like the perfect way for this conversation to—"
He cut me off by pressing his thumb against my lips. His eyes still focused on mine, he said, "My biggest problem with you right now isn't that I can't stop thinking about what we did. It's not even that there isn't a part of me that doesn't want to lie you back right now and fuck you all over again. My biggest problem with you is that I'm trying to hate you the way I have done for years, and I can't."
Uh-oh.
"I want you more than I hate you, and that screws with me. Because no matter how many smart comments you make at me or how you try to hide how you're feeling, I can't deny the fact that a part of me wants more than just your body."
Oh no.
Now we were in trouble.
I didn't know what to say back to that. He wanted me to be honest? Fine, but it wasn't as easy as he thought it was. Putting the way I felt right now into words was impossible, because I had no idea how I felt.
"It doesn't...You can't..." I let go of a long, deep breath. "You know that can't happen. What happened yesterday shouldn't have happened. The point of this conversation is to discuss what happened and make sure what what happened never happens again, and that doesn't involve what you or I or Mother freakin' Nature wants to happen because absolutely one hundred percent none of that can happen."
Parker paused. "I don't know if I'm more impressed you said that without taking a breath or the amount of times you used the word 'happen' or 'happened' without getting tongue-tied."
A frustrated groan escaped my lips, and I pushed up to standing. "You know nothing else can happen, so don't tell me how you think you feel, because that just fucks up this entire situation."
"As opposed to its already non-complicated standpoint."
"Can you stop being so annoyingly logical?"
A lopsided grin stretched across his face. "Now I understand why you're such a smartass. It's kinda fun."
I wasn't going to smile.
Nuh-uh.
No way.
Not a—
Shit, I was smiling. Of course, I was.
I rubbed my hands down my face and shook my head. I might have smiled, but I wasn't going to laugh. "I'm an accidental smartass."
"Just like I'm accidentally really good in bed." That grin was still in place.
"You're not bad on a desk, but I have no comment about the bed."
"I can make that happen."
"That is not happening." I pointed a finger at him. "That doesn't solve this problem."
"True," he said slowly. "But it would remove a great deal of stress from it. At least for the short term."
This was ridiculous. This conversation was going around in circles. There was no way in hell I was going to get anything decent out of this conversation.
"Clearly, you're not in the right frame of mind to discuss this today." I ran my hands through my hair. "Let's try again tomorrow."
"Raven." Parker saying my name made me stop and turn back to him.
He got up from the sofa and came toward me. My heart beat a little faster every time he took a step and came closer to me. By the time he reached my, my heartbeat was too wild to control, and my entire body was buzzing with his nearness.
He hesitated before bringing a hand to my face. His palm was soft against my cheek, and I stared at him as he slid his hand through into my hair. I knew what was coming. Stopping it should have been my ultimate goal, but the closer his mouth came to mine, the more I wanted him to kiss me.
One kiss. That was all it was. One firm yet soft kiss that sent sparks across my skin.
One kiss that made me believe in the words he'd just said to me.
One kiss that stirred the feelings I'd shoved away into the wilderness of my mind.
"We're not going to talk about this again." His voice was low, his nose brushing mine as he slowly pulled back. "Because the outcome isn't going to change. I'm still not going to hate you, Ray, and you're not gonna hate me either. I'm still going to want to kiss you. Still going to want to fuck you. All talking about how wrong this is does is make me want you more."
I opened my mouth, but he slid his hand back to my cheek and pressed his thumb to my lower lip.
"Now, if you tell me right now that I'm wrong and you don't want me, that I'm a delusional idiot who needs punching in the face, then fine. No more conversations and no more of this. I'll just be the guy who works in your kitchen you've known your whole life. But if you tell me I'm right and that I'm not the only one torn between want and loyalty, then we're both terrible people, so we might as well be terrible in private, in our own time."
"On a desk?"
"Desk, bed, wall, pool table—I'm not fussy. I have ideas for all four places."
My lips curled up to one side, but I sighed. "You make it all sound so simple."
"Good, because I don't think it is at all." He ran his thumb across the curve of my lower lip. "I just need to know if I'm justified feeling the way I do."
The thumping of my heart was becoming almost aching—like a warning that I was walking into a situation that would shatter it.
"You're leaving at the end of the summer, so on one hand, it's not a big deal. On the other...The fact I find myself struggling to despise you is."
Parker smirked. "Maybe I am leaving, maybe I'm not. Would if I have a job if stay?"
"Only if you have a reason to be here."
"Maybe I will." He leaned in again. "Help me find one."
So, I said the only word I could, given the circumstances.
I said, "Okay."
***
If I had to give my past self any advice, it would be: Don't, under any circumstances, give your family cocktail making lessons. You will regret it.
That advice would have been good at eight a.m. when I agreed, and forty-five minutes ago when my grandmother, great-aunt, and cousin walked into my bar.
See, what I should have done was told them I was sorry, but I couldn't do it today. Especially since Aunt Alexa had yet to arrive and there had already been one smashed glass thanks to Great-Aunt Maria's overzealous pouring.
"Too much!" I yelled, waving my hands around. I took the tequila bottle out of Maria's hands and put it a good two arms-lengths away from her. "One shot. The Pussy Pounder only needs one shot."
"Are you mixing drinks or filming a porno?" Parker's voice made me turn to him. He stepped into the bar wielding a large, silver tray that had the hummus platter and more on.
Yia-Yia's nose twitched. "I smell food. Is it good?"
"I sure hope so. And if it's not, I didn't cook it." He winked at me as he carefully put the tray on the bar surface.
"And if good?" Yia-Yia demanded.
"Then obviously, I cooked it."
She smiled slyly at him.
"Thanks," I said to him, ignoring the way my cousin, Athena, was staring at him. "How are you doing, Theney?"
All right, maybe not. But I had some kind of claim on him now, right?
Probably not, given the fact nobody could know we were apparently getting physical.
"I think I have it." She blushed and pushed the drink to me. "What do you think?"
I grabbed a fresh straw and put it in the drink. "Not bad, but just a little more lemonade."
"Mmm, good." Yia-Yia hummed, half a ring of calamari in her hand.
Parker grinned. "I made that."
"No, you didn't. Wes makes the batter." I ran the cocktail shaker Athena had just used under the tap beneath the bar.
"I fried it."
"You said you made it. You didn't." I shrugged and shut off the tap. "Just pointing that out."
Great-Aunt Maria snickered from her stool. She flung her hand out in Parker's direction and opened her mouth. Her fingers collided with the side of a full glass of Blue Balls, and it was only Parker's lightning-fast reflexes that saved a second glass from destruction at her hands—quite literally.
I grabbed the glass from him and slid it away.
Great-Aunt Maria looked at the glass as though she'd done something to offend it.
Parker put his hands on the bar and leaned over to speak quietly. "Maybe you should relocate this to your mom's kitchen so she breaks her glasses instead."
I sighed. "This whole thing is a bad idea," I said back just as quietly. I glanced at my family. Great-Aunt Maria had slid her glass back in front of her and turned to the food, but Yia-Yia had moved the glass just far away that it was safe.
I slid out from behind the bar and motioned for him to join me in the corner. "This is a disaster. In the past forty-five minutes they've been here, I've lost a glass, dented a cocktail shaker, and had to throw out an entire pot of raspberries because in case you didn't notice, Great-Aunt Maria has butterfingers."
"On the bright side," Parker replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It's only one glass, I can probably bash out that dent, and there are plenty of raspberries in the freezer."
I fought my smile. "That doesn't help the fact my cousin makes doe-eyes at you every time you walk past. Or the fact Yia-Yia has inquired as to the state of my uterus no less than five times, like I've just gone through immaculate conception right here in my bar."
"Your cousin is making doe-eyes at me? I didn't notice." His own eyes belied that with their sparkle.
I smacked his chest. "I don't care, I was just pointing it out."
"I would have believed that a lot more two days ago," he muttered, the words no more than a low buzz.
"Whatever. You have to help me get rid of them."
His eyebrows shot up. "How exactly do you expect me to do that?"
"I don't know. If I knew how to get rid of them, don't you think I'd be doing it myself?" I whispered, glancing in their direction. Thankfully only Athena was looking at us, so I offered her a reassuring smile. It was apparently enough, because she smiled back and returned to the conversation.
Parker peered at my family for a moment. "So, why do I get stuck with this?"
"Because you have ideas, and if you want them to become reality..." I whispered again, this time trailing off and leaving it for him to finish.
"That's playing dirty, Raven,"
With the flash of a grin, I spun on the balls of my feet and headed back over to the bar.
I was playing dirty—but so did he every time he kissed me.