I want more.

“Shh, baby.” He lowers his lips back to mine. Our mouths work together as our bodies move as one—connected.

I try to pull him closer to me, tugging on his back, hips, neck, and hair.

Our bodies rock in slow motion. This is nothing hot and heavy like our first time.

This is passionate.

Tender.

We don’t need words. Our bodies do it for us.

It’s beautiful.

When I feel the pressure building and my muscles tightening around him, Parker begins to move faster.

“That’s it, baby.” His fast movements are never hard. He continues to thrust into me gently, but with the perfect amount of force.

When I cry out his name he captures it, muffling the sound with his lips. He finally slips his tongue into my mouth, and I meet his greedily. Not wanting it to end, I bring my hands up, wrapping them around his neck. He continues to slowly move in and out of me until he finds his own release.

We lie there panting, our bodies stuck together with our sweat.

“Parker …”

I can’t continue. I don’t know what to say that would make this moment any more special. Well, I can think of three words.

“Aundrea?” he says, breaking my thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Did you hear me?”

“No. I’m sorry, what?”

“I realized that last night we didn’t use anything.”

I think of what he means. Protection. What do I say? It’s okay; I can’t get pregnant.

“It’s okay, I have that taken care of, and I’m clean.” There. That’s not really lying. It’s honest, but vague, and I’m being very honest about the clean part. I have to have multiple STD checks with all the treatment I do.

“Well, still, I shouldn’t have been so greedy. I didn’t think you were coming last night, or I would have brought something.”

I turn into him, resting my hands on his chest so that I’m looking down at him.

“Parker. Really, it’s okay. I promise. We’re good.” I give him a quick kiss, then get up to get dressed.

He asks me to join him in the shower, and I tell him how much I want to but my parents are coming today and I need to get back. He begs me to stay, so it tears me apart to tell him no. I want to. So bad.

Parker tried to get me to take off my wig various times last night and I insisted on keeping it on. He pushed this morning, too, but I played it off.

“Do you really have to go?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” He looks as if he wants to say more, but doesn’t. “Call me later?”

“Of course.” I give him a quick kiss, then ask for him to zip my dress back up. He hasn’t bothered to get dressed yet, and my eyes can’t help but roam over his body every time I look at him.

I leave him standing naked in the hotel room with the memories of last night.

“Honey, why can’t we meet him?”

My mom has asked this question no less than fifteen times since I got out of the shower.

“Because. We’re not at the meet the parent stage.”

“What stage are you at?” my dad chimes in.

“No stage. We’re taking it slow.”

“I’d say you’re spending a lot of time together for someone who is taking it slow,” Genna chirps while flipping through her latest cookbook. I give her an evil glare before turning back to my dad.

“Dad, we’ve been hanging out.”

“A lot,” Genna interrupts.

“Will you quit it!” I throw one of her blue and gray couch pillows at her.

“Hey!” she screams, dropping her cookbook to the floor. I laugh, and soon she’s laughing too.

“Okay, you two. Calm down. Dre, why don’t you tell your dad and me about this Parker guy?”

“I already told you what there is to tell.”

“More please.”

My mom is just like my sister. Or rather, my sister is just like her. They always want the damn details of everything. I tell them how I met him at the house when he came over for dinner. Genna still doesn’t know how we really met.

“Dinner’s done!” Jason smiles, carrying in two large take out bags from the local diner down the road. Genna insisted on making a home-cooked meal, but my mom and dad love that diner, so she relented.

“Honey, what time do you need to be at the hospital tomorrow?”

“Eight.”

My dad wants to go with me. He’s only gone to a handful of my treatments in the last four years. The treatments were always during the week when he had to work, so my mom would take me during the day and he would stay up with me, all night if necessary.

“Mind if Mom and I go with you?”

“Of course not.”

I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, which I think is why he never says much about my cancer. He doesn’t normally like to talk about it or discuss it in detail besides the important facts. Shortly after I was diagnosed, I told him I wasn’t scared and that he didn’t need to be either. He didn’t need to tell me that he was. I could see it in his eyes. Genna would tell me how he would drink coffee after coffee during any of my scans or surgeries just so he had something to do.

I would sit on the deck with him late at night, looking at the stars, holding his hand, and comforting him, telling him it was okay. That I was okay, and he didn’t need to worry.

When my cancer came back the second time, his attitude amplified. He became quiet at the mention of anything related to my treatments. I knew he cared, but he didn’t say much. He just listened.