One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)

I grin in the dark.

His hands slide over my skin like they were made to fit my curves, playing me like a song, shaping me like a memory, breaking me like a promise. I explore his skin with equal passion, tracing my lips along the muscular planes of his chest as his silhouette hovers over mine, his hazel eyes glowing gold in the shadowed room.

And as he makes love to me — hands and lips and hips all working in tandem to drive me to the brink of pleasure — I wonder how I ever lived without this sensation of total completeness. As he fills me, body and soul, I cry out at the feeling of utter fulfillment.

Long after our heartbeats have slowed to normal, I lay wrapped tight within the expanse of Parker’s arms, his mouth pressing soft kisses into my temple, and revel in the sensation that for once in my life I’m incredibly fucking lucky to be exactly where I am.

I can only hope he feels the same.

“Did I ruin your Christmas?” I force myself to ask in the darkness.

“What?” I feel him shift to look at my face. “Why would you say that?”

“This holiday… It’s clearly a big deal in the West family. I saw the size of Phoebe’s tree, not to mention your ugly sweater collection and your obsession with Christmas movies.”

“Zoe.” Parker shakes his head. “Trust me. You didn’t ruin a thing.”

“But you’re out here in the middle of the ocean, instead of spending the day with your family.” I chew my lip. “I definitely ruined your Christmas, playboy. It’s okay — you can tell me. I can take it.”

He rolls, so he’s staring straight down into my face. “Listen to me, Zoe. You didn’t ruin anything. I mean it.” His eyes are intense. “In fact… this is probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had. Screw the tree, the ornaments, the whole damn thing. Being here with you… that’s the best gift I could ever fucking ask for. I mean it.”

My eyes start to burn with telltale tears; I blink rapidly to clear them. “Yeah?” I ask after a minute.

“Yeah,” he whispers, kissing me. “I know this isn’t your favorite holiday. But I’m hoping, after this year… you might see that it isn’t always so bad.”

I swallow and press my face into his chest so I won’t cry. After a while, his arms come around my back and he pulls me close.

“Parker,” I whisper a few minutes later, desperation in my tone.

His body tenses. “What is it, darling?”

“Earlier… you asked me what I want for Christmas.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I know, now.”

“Name it, Zoe.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

I choke back the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “I need you to stop being so wonderful.”

He pauses. “What?”

“Stop being nice to me. Stop being so damn sweet and funny and kind.” I try to breathe normally and fail miserably. “Because…”

“Because what, darling?” His voice is infinitely soft.

“Because I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it…” My voice cracks pathetically. “…if you make me fall in love with you and then leave me behind.”

He rolls so I’m pinned beneath him and he’s staring down at me, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. I press my eyes closed so I don’t have to look at his gorgeous fucking face.

“Zoe. Look at me.”

My eyes crack open a sliver.

“There’s only one reason I’ve spent my life running,” he says, his voice intent. “You know what that is?”

I shake my head.

“I’ve never had a good reason to stay.”

I feel my eyes fill with tears.

“But you – you’re my reason, darling. Now that I’ve met you…” He brushes his mouth against the tip of my nose. “I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?” Another kiss lands against my forehead. “I’m not leaving you.”

I can’t breathe.

“Zoe Bloom.” His hazel eyes burn into mine. “There are some things I’d like to say to you. Things I’m pretty much dying to say to you. But I’m afraid if I tell you out loud that I care about you, that I want to wake up to your face every morning for the next week, next month, next year… you’ll bolt. I’m afraid if I say that, in the span of a single fucking week, you’ve come to mean more to me than anyone else in my whole unfortunate existence… you’ll run before I can catch you and convince you to stay.”

I press my lips together to contain a sob.

“So,” he whispers, his eyes still holding mine. “Right now, I’m not going to tell you that I’m pretty sure you’re the one woman on this planet who was made for me. I’m not going to say that I think I could spend a whole lifetime exploring you, and have that be a sufficient adventure. I’m not going to admit that I think I love you.” His lips twist. “Not yet. You’re not ready for that.”

My heart beats double-time inside my chest.

“But…” He brushes his lips against mine again, soft and sweet. “One day, you’ll be ready. And, darling, for the record… I plan on sticking around until that day. And for all the days after.”

My eyes are suspiciously wet.