Page 106 of The Fire

Parker hooted in agreement.

“But I promise, I’m notquitestupid enough to destroy my kitchen without knowing how I was gonna pay to renovate it.”

Parker’s fingers traced the collar of my shirt. “Yeah? Where are you getting the money, sugar daddy? It’s gonna cost a shit-ton.”

“I’m aware. I told you before that I don’t have a mortgage on this place. My dad’s life insurance covered it with a good bit left over. And I mostly bank my paychecks too, so…” I shrugged. “It’s covered.”

Parker raised one eyebrow. “Covered? Everything?”

“I mean… within reason, yes. Everything.”

“So… what are we talking here?Industrial stove?” Parker asked in a hushed voice. “Soapstone counters?”

I snorted. “You’re getting hard right now, aren’t you?”

“No!” Parker toyed with my collar again. “That would be weird.”

“Parks?” I walked him backward until his back was flat against the fridge, and his eyes sparkled up at me.

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you weird,” I whispered. “I kinda always have.”

“I really love you, you know?” Parker said, thrusting his hands up into my hair.

“Yeah?” I lowered my head to nip at his bottom lip. “How much? Is it time for show-and-tell?”

Parker lifted up on his toes, rubbing himself against me, and pressed our lips together. His taste was familiar—we’d spent the last two nights talking and kissing, and while it wasn’t a new sensation, I’d loved the way it had felt knowing both of us had laid our cards on the table. Every touch of our lips had felt like a promise.

Kissing him here, in our home, was something different again. We were building something here, Parker and me. Something strong and special andreal. Not just a flash of passion, but something nurturing and sustaining.

Parker made a little sighing noise as he broke away.

“Go lie on the bed,” he said softly.

“Itisthat kind of show-and-tell.” I grinned. “Excellent.”

Parker rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, I have no idea what you’re picturing in your head right now, but I can almost guarantee that’s not the kind of show-and-tell I mean.” He paused. “At least not right now.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“And I’m waiting.Go.”

I saluted him sharply and hefted his backpack more firmly on my shoulder as I went down the hall.

Our bedroom looked exactly the way we’d left it—sheets rumpled and pushed to the foot of the mattress, dents in the pillows where our heads had been. I tossed the bag on the floor on Parker’s side of the bed and couldn’t help but think about how close I’d thought I’d come to having nothing left of Parker but this impression of his head on my pillow.

And clearly this relationship stuff was turning me into a sap, because Ifeltthe pang of that hopelessness as I plumped the pillows and straightened the blankets, followed by a wave of intense gratitude as I took off my shirt and threwiton Parker’s side of the bed too.

He was gonna give me so much shit for the clothes on the floor. Which meant he’d behereto give me shit.

I lay down on the bed, reclining against the pillows, and propped my hands behind my head. My shoulder twinged a little at the motion, but I ignored it in anticipation.

When Parker opened the door, though, he looked the same as he had in the kitchen—still fully dressed, down to his shoes.

I lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, and he threw out his arms. “Ta da! Not quite the show you’d expected?”

“Youdidonce promise to answer my questions in interpretive dance. I can work with this.”