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What's Left of Me

Page 52

   


I need more. And I don’t care who knows. Not anymore.
I brush my lips against his and run my tongue along his bottom lip before pulling it between my teeth and biting down gently. All thoughts of people watching us are out of my mind. It’s just us. It has only ever been us.
He growls into my mouth, stamping his approval. Bringing his hand up, he cups my neck, holding me in place. I can smell the hard liquor on his breath mixed with his sweet scent.
Just as I’m about to capture his mouth, the sound of a throat being cleared behind me brings me back to reality. Gradually, I move back and out of Parker’s grasp. His eyes are foggy and don’t leave mine. I know I’ve got him hooked, so I give him a devious grin before turning on my heel, leaving him with Batman.
I find Shannon shortly after I leave Parker at the bar, and hang out with her. She keeps letting random men come up to her and blow her whistle.
It starts to get obnoxious. Seriously.
No matter where we are in the ballroom, Parker and I always seem to know where the other is. We maintain eye contact all night. It’s as if there is a magnetic pull forcing us toward each other. Every time his eyes land on mine, he gives me his famous wink that now melts my heart whenever I see it. And, whenever I pass by him, I flirtatiously rub up against him in just the right places. It’s become a game between the two of us. A slow, seductive game that can only lead to one thing.
Genna catches up with me just before we have to sit down for dinner, letting Jason mingle with the guests first.
“Parker can’t take his eyes off you tonight, Dre. Every time I look over, he’s looking directly at you. That man has it bad,” Genna says loudly in front of Shannon.
“You and Parker, huh?” Shannon teases. She’s been hinting at the two of us being more than friends for a few weeks now, but I have been denying her accusations.
I shrug and take a small sip of my water, wishing it were champagne.
When it’s time for dinner, we make our way over to find our table. We stop to collect our place cards first. Genna made Jason do some rearranging at the last minute to allow me to sit at their table.
There are three long rectangular tables filled with dark chocolate cupcakes with white frosting and headstones in the centers. On each headstone are our names and table numbers. Finding my cupcake, I make my way to table seven. Lucky number seven.
Genna, Jason, Shannon, Parker, Bryn, Batman, and Catwoman are all seated at my table. Parker pulls out a chair and nods his head for me to sit, so I do.
Bryn takes the seat next to Parker.
I don’t hide my eye roll.
“Are you having a good night so far?” I ask Parker.
“Very much. Are you?”
“More than you know.”
As dinner is served, I pay little attention to the discussions happening around me. My only focus is on Parker. His hand keeps drawing small circles on my thigh, shooting electric bolts down my leg and into my toes. I keep trying to act unaffected by his touch, but when his hand moves higher up my thigh, I lose all focus. Closing my eyes, I take in his soft touch gliding leisurely up my leg, closer to the top of the slit in my dress, which now sits higher up on my thigh thanks to my sitting position.
My breath catches and my eyes fly open as his fingers make contact with the fabric that sits between my thighs. Looking around the table, I see that no one is paying any attention to us. Parker is talking to the guy across from him, so no one would even fathom what is happening under the table.
Just as I’m about to reach under the table to grab his hand, he slips a finger inside the fabric, brushing my smooth skin gently.
The first time we were together, I had a landing strip that covered my now naked skin. Since my second chemo, I’ve lost all hair below the waist. The bareness of me must catch him by surprise because there is a soft intake of breath from his slightly parted lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as he leans back into his chair, adjusting himself before settling in a more comfortable position.
The smile that spreads across my face is difficult to hide and, apparently, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Genna.
“What are you so happy about?” Genna asks.
Parker lets out a faint laugh.
Ignoring him, and trying to ignore his finger between my thighs, I reply—convincingly, I hope—“Oh, nothing. Just their conversation.” I don’t look at her when I say it for fear she’ll call my bluff. I don’t even know what the conversation going on around me is, and silently hope it wasn’t about any poor animals.
Genna goes back to talking to Shannon, and I’m thankful for the long table because Parker pushes my thighs apart and slips his finger inside of me. Swallowing hard, I reach under the table and grip his thigh, but he slips in another finger, causing me to loosen my grip and give him all the access he needs.
I look at him, and he gives me a wicked grin followed by a wink before turning away and resuming his conversation.
The voices around me turn muffled as I pay them no attention. Parker doesn’t move his fingers fast or forcefully. He takes his time, teasing me. He slides his fingers in and out, running them up my sleek folds. When he reaches my swollen bud, he circles it before working his way back down and inside me again. He does this a few times before focusing all his attention on the spot where I need him.
He continues to move in soft, slow circles, causing pressure to build within me. I squeeze his thigh, under the table while my other hand holds tightly to my water glass. I desperately want to bring the water to my lips to cool myself off, but I know I won’t be able to bring it to my mouth without shaking, so I leave the glass where it is.