Parrish adjusts his right hand, slipping it beneath my skirts, and then pulls my panties down my legs and over the Chucks I put on while we were waiting to get him back. He gives the mismatched shoes—one black, one green—a look and a contented sigh.
“I missed this. Your quirkiness. Your political jabs. The way you barge into everything and destroy all my boundaries, and I don’t even mind.” Parrish tosses the panties aside and slips the condom from my hand. He stands up straight and shoves his sweatpants down, kicking them aside and slipping the condom on.
The only light that’s on in here is the one above the shower, just a single spotlight that illuminates the stall, but creates twilight dusk throughout the rest of the admittedly very large room. This bathroom is more than half the size of my entire bedroom back home with the Banks.
Although I may never think of this ice palace as home, there’s something about Parrish that says home. Something about Chasm. About Maxx. The three of them give me that feeling the same way that Maxine does, or the way my grandparents do.
I embrace that phenomenon as Parrish steps close to me again, his body warm between my thighs. The fact that he’s even here, that he’s even alive, makes me tremble with excitement. Who knew it could be such a turn-on to rescue the guy you love-hated for months, lost to an infamous serial killer, and then rescued in a dramatic, Agatha Christie-worthy fashion?
“I missed your rude, pouty mouth, and your stupid swagger, and the way you slit your eyes when you’re bothered by something or someone,” I tell him, and he lets out a satisfied chuckle near my ear, making me shiver. The feeling only intensifies when he grips my hip under my skirt with one hand, using the other to guide himself between my thighs.
He lifts his gaze up, his face limned in white steam and dusky light, and then he thrusts his hips forward, and we both groan in unison. My fingers clutch at his back, scraping over his bandages, as he squeezes my ass in both hands and drags my pelvis tightly against his, pressing us together.
“Gamer Girl,” he murmurs as our mouths come together yet again, tongues sliding against one another, hearts beating as we sit chest-to-chest for a moment.
“Pear-Pear,” I whisper, but it’s only half a joke. I’m far too wrapped up in heat and ardor to be anything but serious right now.
“You can call me that. You can call me anything you want actually. Maybe it makes me crazy, but you were the person that I missed the most.” Parrish starts to move, slow at first, but with increasing speed. It’s like he’s drowning all of a sudden, and I’m his only chance at getting air.
I keep my arms around his neck, my mouth moving against his, murmuring his name over and over again. I wish more than anything that we had all night to be together. I want to touch every part of him, just to make sure that he’s really okay. Trace his scars, memorize him. He might have them for life, but I don’t care. Because it means he made it; he survived.
The feel of his hips rocking against mine, of his body being inside of me, it’s incredible. I feel so much better already, being this close to him.
“Tell me you’re still mine,” he murmurs against my ear, and even if I don’t know how things are going to work out, I know this.
“I’m still yours,” I breathe back at him. “And you’re mine.”
He makes a sound that could either be assent or denial—you never know with Parrish Vanguard—and then he’s losing himself in me, moving harder, faster. His hands on my hips tense, leaving dents in my skin that make me squirm.
When he reaches that sweet, hot place of climax, he bites the side of my neck and groans at the same time. Stars flicker beneath my eyelids as I lock my ankles behind him, holding him close and tight as he finishes.
He slams one of his palms down on the counter, head low, breath fanning against my collarbone, and makes another sound, this one clearly built of frustration.
“I need more of this,” he mutters. “All night.”
I grab a handful of his hair and lift his face up to mine. My body feels like it’s shimmering, like I’m on the very edge of an orgasm. I want more, but I’m not sure we’re going to able to finish me off, let alone go all night.
A knock on the door makes us both stiffen up.
“Just told Tess that Dakota went in her own bathroom to shower. I took the liberty of getting you pajamas, too. Want to grab them?”
It’s Maxx.
Parrish narrows his eyes in frustration, sitting up and then slowly sliding out of me, all the while making eye contact. He slips the condom off and drops it in the trash—we need to remember to deal with that later—and yanks his sweats up.
