“Um, yeah. I guess.” I moved aside and he stepped past me. Closing the door, I followed him into my apartment.
“I should thank you,” I said to him. “Ryker told me you dislocated your shoulder to get free and come help me.”
“Did he tell you why we went in there in the first place?” he asked.
I nodded. “Ryker’s partner was a dirty cop. Viktor paid him for access to tap my phone line. And he recorded me talking, made it sound like he had me.”
“Ryker and I came to an understanding in that moment,” he said. “The past between us didn’t matter. What did matter was saving you. It was the first time we’d agreed on anything in over a decade.”
“I’m glad,” I said. And I was. It would be good for them both if they could be friends. At least the pain I’d gone through hadn’t been in vain.
“But I also realized I’d been an ass,” he said, moving closer to me. His hands cradled my face. “You finally trusted me, and I threw it away because of Ryker. Because of the past. A past I can’t change. But the future … the future is still up for grabs.”
I couldn’t speak, just staring up at him in stunned silence. His blue eyes gazed deeply into mine and the calluses on his thumbs brushed my cheeks.
“I love you,” he said. “That became crystal clear to me last night. I didn’t have to kill Viktor. I wanted to. He’d hurt you, and I’d had to watch him do it.”
“You … you love me?”
“I have for a long time, I think,” he said. “It just took me this long to realize it. You and I have something special and rare, a connection that’s deeper than anything I’ve ever known. You feel it, too, don’t you. You’ve probably known a lot longer than I have.”
I was so confused I stepped back, away from his touch. “First you told me no, then you told me you were wrong, then you said sex between us would change everything. And I believed you, and I wanted to be with you. Then Ryker showed up and you said it had been a mistake and should never have happened. Now you decide you love me and that we have a ‘special connection?’ ”
Anger replaced confusion and I turned, grabbing the first thing I could lay my hands on: my cookie jar. I threw it with all my strength at the wall. The ceramic hit with a crash, splintering into a thousand pieces with M&M’s flying everywhere.
“Why do you keep doing this to me? I can’t take it anymore!” I flew at him, wanting to hurt him the same way he was tearing me up inside. “Why are you doing this?” I was yelling at him and hitting his chest. “Why?”
He grabbed my wrists, forcing me to stop. “Sage—”
I struggled in his grip. “You can’t keep doing this! You can’t—”
“Sage!”
He pushed my arms down, locking my wrists behind my back and holding me tight against him. I couldn’t fight him anymore and I was crying and why oh why was he doing this to me?
Suddenly, he was kissing me, hard, his lips pushing mine apart. Our mouths collided with a fierce passion, my anger melting into a fierce desire. My wrists were free, but I didn’t push him away. Instead, my arms circled his neck, holding him tighter and closer.
His arms were a vise around my waist and I began clawing at his clothes, yanking on his shirt. He broke off kissing me long enough to pull it over his head, then he jerked mine off, too. He didn’t bother unfastening my bra, the fragile lace tearing until the fabric fell to the floor. His mouth covered my nipple and I gasped, my head falling back. The scrape of his teeth made me moan.
My fingers tangled in his hair and I pulled until he lifted his head to kiss me again. Skin against skin was a potent drug and my knees went weak.
Parker pushed me backward and my back hit the wall. I grappled with his belt, tugging it loose. I needed him.
He brushed my hands aside, pushing the yoga pants I wore down my legs and dragging my panties down with them. I kicked them aside, but slipped on the fabric. Parker caught me, saving me from hitting the floor, and lifted me. I eagerly wrapped my legs around his waist, swinging my hair to the side so it was out of our way, then I kissed him again.
I barely paid attention as he carried me to my bedroom. He set me on my knees on the bed and I attacked his jeans again, making quick work of the fastening and zipper.
Parker wore nothing under his jeans, which was all kinds of hot. I pushed the denim down, my hands clutching at his ass. His erection pressed against my abdomen and I couldn’t help rubbing against him like a cat. His hands were buried in my hair as he kissed me.
He pressed me back onto the bed and I clutched at his shoulders. I was wet for him, burning for him.
“This isn’t going to be gentle,” he said, his words rasping in my ear.
“I don’t want gentle.”
He thrust inside me without another word, filling me. I heard him moan at the sensation even as I gasped.