Unforeseen (Undescribable series Book 6) Read online

  “Where?” he demands.

  “Everywhere.”

  His hand runs down my side and slowly slides between my legs. He cups my sex and I moan. “Do I kiss you here?” He presses his palm against me and the motion has me standing up on tiptoes. “Do I?”

  I take in a deep breath as my sex clenches with the image of him between my legs.

  His other hand makes its way up the back of my neck and he grabs a hold of my hair at the base of my neck and he pulls on it. I gasp.

  “Tell me, sweetheart,” he breathes against my lips, “do I fuck your pussy with my tongue?” His tongue comes out and slowly runs the length of my lips teasingly.

  My sex tightens at those words, and I start to pant. He pushes his tongue between my lips, and I open my lips to allow him easier access. My tongue dances with his as his hand massages my sex over my yoga pants.

  Geez, why did I wear clothes?

  His hand stops its sweet torture. “Say it. Say, baby fuck my pussy with your tongue.”

  Doesn’t matter how turned on I am—how bad I want him to do just that, I still blush at his words.

  I shake my head, not wanting to do it. It won’t sound sexy. It will sound childish, and he’ll laugh at me.

  He pulls away and places both hands on either side of my face, holding it still as he lowers his face down to mine. “Don’t be shy, Missy.” His dark blue eyes roam my face.

  “I’m not…” He lowers a hand to my chest and he pulls down my bra, showcasing my breast.

  I gasp as my hands instinctively covers my breast. He grabs a hold of them and pins them to the wall by my head. He gives me a wicked grin. “You are,” he argues, and I try to remove my hands from his grasp. To my surprise he lets go. I go to wrap my arms around his neck, but he drop to his knees before me.

  I go to take a step back as he grabs the waistband of my yoga pants but I’m up against the wall. “Step out,” he demands once they are down by my ankles. I do as he says quickly, and he throws them over to the side of the room.

  He stands and wraps an arm around me picking me up. He turns around, tosses me onto the bed, and crawls on top of me.

  “Tate…”

  He places a finger over my mouth quieting me as he stares down at me. “You will tell me what you want,” he says, and my eyes widen. He removes his finger and runs his hand down the middle of my chest. His body slowly makes its way down my body to where he lies between my legs.

  Placing his hands under my knees he pulls my legs up and spreads them apart. They shake with anticipation as he stares down at me with those dark blue eyes. His finger dips into my panties, and I whimper, arching my back. “You want me to tease you, sweetheart?” he asks, and I lift my hips needing friction against my sex. “I have all night.”

  I turn my head from side to side. He’s going to torture me.

  He chuckles.

  “Tell me,” he whispers, lowering his head between my legs. I jerk when I feel his lips on my sex through my panties.

  “Tate,” I cry out arching my back. My body is wound so tight it needs a release. “Fuck me…” I pant. “Fuck me with your tongue.”

  I’m jolted out of that memory as Parker lets go of me. I stand on shaky legs as he walks over to Tate’s bed and sits down.

  I take the chance to look around as the knot forms once again in my throat. Everything looks the same as I remember it. But it has an eerie feel to it. His room is cold. I wrap my arms around myself as goosebumps erupt over my body. I’ve never believed in ghosts, but it’s as if he’s here. Brooding. Mad at Parker and me for being in his room.

  Parker reaches over and opens his nightstand drawer. “Parker,” I hiss running over to him to stop him. As I get to him, he holds up a picture to me. The tears fall down my face as a waterfall when I notice the picture. It’s of Tate and me taking a nap on his couch in the living room. Parker had taken it one day for us. I can’t believe he kept this.

  I fall onto the bed and lay down on my side as I curl up into a ball. Parker reaches out to comfort me, but I pull away. “Please. Leave,” I cry out closing my eyes tightly. “I need to be alone.” Because alone is all that I feel.

  I once told Tate that we all have things that haunt us. Now he is that thing. I see him no matter what I do. I hear him no matter who is talking to me. He consumes me now just as much as he did when he was alive, but now it’s worse. Because he doesn’t get his happiness. He doesn’t get his happy ending. Even if I wasn’t the girl to give it to him, he will never experience that, and that is what breaks my heart the most.

  Another fight we once had over a guy who hit on me at a bar comes to mind.

  I follow after Tate on shaky legs. What the heck just happened? We went from having a great time to him beating the shit out of a guy with a helmet and his fist in a matter of seconds.

  I climb up into his truck and close the door as we leave the bar. I push my body into it, wanting as much space as possible from him.

  He looks over at me quickly and notices how I have smashed myself up against the door. “Scared?” His deep voice is clipped as he pulls out of the parking spot.

  “Shouldn’t I be?” I ask. If that was his intention, then he achieved it.

  “That had nothing to do with you,” he snaps, merging onto the highway.

  “So you beat him up over your mother?” I ask, getting angry.

  “Quit talking about my mother.” His voice rises, and I snap.

  “No,” I scream, slamming my hands down on my legs. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demand. “Why would you hit that guy? You could have killed him,” I state furious.

  He turns the steering wheel hard and the tires screech to a halt on the side of the road as my body slams forward. It comes to a hard stop, and he turns to face me. “You think I care if he would have died? He had his hands on you.”

  “You said it didn’t have anything to do with me,” I state. “And what about you, Tate? You can’t just hit people like that.” These days, people carry guns. Hell, I refuse to watch the news because all I see are killings and robberies. You never know what it will take for a person to snap.

  He gives a dark laugh. “You think I wouldn’t kill someone?” He shakes his head. “Then you don’t know me at all, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t,” I snap, and his eyes harden. “You keep everything from me.”

  “I keep it from you because you would leave me. If you knew what I was capable of, then you would realize just how fucked up I am,” he shouts before he leans back in his seat and lets out a long breath.

  I look down at my hands knotted in my lap. I take a deep breath before I speak. “I don’t know what you expect from me. What kind of person do you think I am?” I ask, looking over at him. “All I’ve tried to do is help you. I don’t care what you’ve done in your past, Tate.” He continues to look straight ahead through the windshield at the side of the road. “What I care about is what you do now. Are you trying to push me away?” I ask.

  His head snaps over to mine. “No.” He shifts, getting closer to me, and this time I don’t move away. Instead, I reach out to him, placing my hands in his. “I’m just…” He takes a deep breath. “I’m trying, but that guy grabbed you. I saw you push him away, but he had a hold of you.” His dark blue eyes look into mine. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t want you to fear me, Missy. I want to protect you. Even from myself.” He looks down at our hands and shakes his head to himself. Then he lifts his head. “Do you hate me?”

  “I could never hate you, Tate.” I swallow nervously. “I love you,” I whisper.

  His body stiffens, and his hands tighten on mine. “You can’t love someone like me,” he says and shakes his head as if that is impossible. “Did you know that I almost killed him? My mother’s ex-husband?”

  “But you didn’t,” I say softly.

  “I wanted to. I couldn’t even fucking succeed in that.” He gives a dark laugh at himself.

  �
�He beat you…”

  “Yes. I know,” he snaps, before letting go of my hands and running one over his face. “I have reminders.” He looks down at the black tribal ink that runs up his arm. I know he has them in certain places to cover the scars that Jonathan left him with. “I don’t need to be fucking reminded,” he growls. “And I’m just like him. I’m a beast,” he whispers. “Inside and out.”

  “You think that’s why I can’t love you? Because you have scars?” I shake my head at him. “Everyone has scars, Tate. Some just aren’t worn on the outside where the world can see them.”

  I lift my hand and place it over his shirt where I know the scar remains across his chest from when he found Sam drugged and bound in a basement. He had fought the kidnapper, her ex, who pulled a knife on him. “Some of these scars may be a reminder of what tragedy you endured as a child. But this one.” I press my hand harder against his chest. “This one shows how much you love.” I look up at him, and he closes his eyes as if that word pains him. “No matter how much you want to call yourself a beast or how much hatred you have. You have love, Tate. You would be willing to sacrifice yourself to save another.”

  He opens his eyes and places his hands on either side of my face. “I would sacrifice myself to save you,” he says with more emotion than I have ever seen. Sometimes you don’t have to hear the words ‘I love you’ to know how much one cares for you.

  I smile up at him. “That doesn’t make you a beast, Tate. That makes you my savior.”

  He releases a long breath and lowers his forehead to mine. “I hate when you make me feel this way,” he whispers.

  “What way?” I reach up and run my hand through his dark hair.

  He takes a second to respond. “That I’m a better person than I truly am. That I don’t have to hide in the darkness.”

  I pull back and place my hands on either side of his unshaven face, loving the feel of his whiskers. “There’s nothing wrong with the darkness, Tate. That’s the only time the stars get to shine.”

  I didn’t understand what he was going through then. I tried to explain to him that even in the darkest night there was light. But I was wrong. There’s no light. There’s nothing but an emptiness that swallows you up until you’re left with nothing. Without him. I am nothing.

  I pull my knees up to my chest as I lie in the fetal position on his bed. I cry my heart out. I sob into the darkness that has become my life. I don’t know if Parker is still in here watching me, and honestly, I don’t care. All I know is that I was wrong. About everything. I guess the only light that is to come from this situation is that he is no longer in pain anymore. He no longer has to see himself as the beast he thought he was, but as the savior I knew him to be! My savior. One must die for another to live.

  EPILOGUE

  I open my eyes and see Tate’s nightstand in front of me. I sniff as I reach up and rub the tears from my eyes. Who knew you could cry in your sleep? I look down to notice that I’m under the covers. Why would Parker leave me in here alone? How was I able to even sleep? I guess that saying is true—you can cry yourself to sleep. I’m pretty sure that will be what I have to do for the rest of my life.

  Taking a deep breath, I roll over and I freeze. My body stiffens. My heart hammers against my chest. Ice runs through my veins. MY mind is playing tricks on me. I’m dreaming. I have to be. Because right in front of me is Tate. A sleeping Tate. His large muscular body is lying next to me. One arm up above his head. The other lying on his sculptured chest.

  “Tate?” My voice squeaks. Is this real? I reach over and place my hand on his chest. It’s warm under my touch and he shifts to where he lays onto his side facing me.

  “Thought we said we were gonna sleep in today, baby?” His words are mumbled, but I could hear them clear as day.

  I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from squealing. But can’t help myself. “Tate?” comes out from behind my hand, and he sighs heavily.

  “I need fifteen more minutes.”

  “You’re not dead,” I say excitedly.

  “Not yet,” he responds through a yawn, while his eyes remain closed.

  “Oh baby,” I breathe. Holy shit! I feel like my heart may explode in my chest.

  He moans. “Say that again. So sexy.” He continues to talk in his sleep as I continue to freak out.

  I jump out of bed quickly not wanting to wake him any more than I already have. I make my way into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. I sit down at the table and look down at my shaking hands. Could I really have dreamed that he died? It was so real. My heart pounds in my chest. And my eyes start to water with happy tears. I let out a laugh as if I was insane. Maybe that’s the direction in which I’m heading.

  I hear the front door open and then seconds later Parker walks into the kitchen dressed in his cop uniform. “What are you doing?” I ask quickly. And he looks down at me with an irritated look.

  “Just getting off work.” He groans. Blood trails down his chin.

  “What happened to you?” I ask, clearing my throat. My voice still a little high pitched due to the love of my life not being dead. If this is a dream, please don’t wake up.

  “A crazy bitch happened to me,” he growls once again, grabbing an ice pack out of the freezer before he plops down across from me. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?” I smile like a fool. I just can’t help it.

  “You look too…giddy. For it to be seven o’clock on a Saturday morning.”

  He just told me what day it is. And although I’m thankful for that, it really doesn’t help me much on if I’m dreaming or if I just woke up from a dream.

  “So, no one has died?” I ask, still smiling.

  He shifts uncomfortable in his chair. “Okay.” He places the ice pack on the kitchen table. “I don’t know what is going on with you. But I had a fucking horrible night at work. And I’m really not in the mood to decipher what you’re trying to say.”

  Now that is the Parker that I know! The dream felt real. I felt like I had really lost Tate. But Parker’s demeanor should have given it away. He’s never that nice in real life. But maybe he can still help me. I take in a deep breath. “I had a bad dream last night,” I say and his eyebrows raise. Parker and I aren’t best friends, not like in my dream. He’s friends with Tate and lives with us so I tolerate him at times.

  “About?”

  “I had a dream that Tate died.” His eyes widen. I sigh. “I dreamed that we were back at the bakery. The day that Jonathan shot him. He died. It felt so real,” I say when his brows scrunch together. “What if he had…?”

  “You can’t live by what if. Or why not?” he interrupts me. “The future is unforeseen, Missy. You can’t change what’s already meant to happen.”

  “But it didn’t really happen. That’s the thing. I literally woke up still crying. My cheeks and pillow were covered in tears thinking he was dead. And he was right there beside me.” I shake my head. “I don’t know why I would dream that,” I whisper. “That was so long ago.” Jonathan showing up was months ago. Since then, I have moved in with the guys. Tate proposed. And we found out two days ago that we’re expecting a baby. God, I’m so lucky! I’m the girl who ended up getting the guy. How often does that happen? Very rarely for girls like me.

  “We sometimes fear what we don’t want to lose,” he says as if from experience. The real Parker, the one sitting across from me at this very second, doesn’t do love or romance. He does one-night stands with women he doesn’t even care enough about to know their names. Believe me, I know. I’ve had to kick them out of this house before.

  He reaches over the table and takes my water. I smile as he lifts it to his lips, careful not to touch his nose. “When will you fall in love?” I ask.

  “Excuse me?” he asks choking on it.

  “When you gonna fall in love, Parker?” I repeat.

  “I’m immune,” he says as he sets the cup down onto the table.

  I chuckle. �
��It’s not a disease,” I argue. When he doesn’t say anything, I continue. “In my dream, Slade says that any of you guys would have done that for the girl you love. Jumped in front of that bullet.” I can still remember Slade saying those words as tears rolled down his face.

  Parker’s face softens, and he gives me a cocky smile. The smile that I know gets him all of his one night stands. “Missy, I put my life on the line every day for people that I don’t even know their name. One doesn’t need love to put others life’s first.”

  I think about that for a second before I continue. “Okay, than. Answer me this.” He nods. “For some reason, you deny yourself the opportunity to love a woman, yet you love Tate.”

  “Now that’s diff…”

  I interrupt him. “In my dream, you cried. A lot! You took off time from work to stay here with me.” His eyes widen in surprise. “Believe me. No one was more surprised than me.” He chuckles. “But I could see you grieving as well. You missed him because you loved him as a brother. Now I know a brotherly love is different than what you would feel for a woman but why would you deny yourself one, more than the other?”

  “Easy. I don’t want to know that feeling,” he says with no hesitation in his voice. It’s as if his words are final.

  “What feeling?”

  “The one that you had in your dream. The one that ripped your heart out and left you feeling less than yourself. By loving Tate, you give him a power over you. A power to destroy you in the end.”

  “But what about the other feeling?” I ask.

  “What other feeling?”

  “The one I felt when I woke up and realized that I never lost him. He was right there the entire time. That my world was right again. Isn’t that feeling worth it?”

  His dark eyebrows pull together as if he’s thinking about my words and their meanings. Yes, falling in love means giving that person the power to hurt you. But it also gives that person the power to heal you.

  And then he all of a sudden stands up and smiles down at me. “You look like shit.” And just like that, he’s back to the old Parker I know. I actually laugh. “And for the record,” he says before he starts to walk away with his ice pack. “It’s not worth it. You can’t miss what you never had, Missy.” And with those simple yet sad words, he walks out of the kitchen and to his room.