Identity Unknown (A Parker & Coe, Love and Bullets Thriller Book 1) by Matthews Alana

Author:Matthews, Alana [Matthews, Alana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Braun Haus Media
Published: 2014-09-07T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

I need to pause here a moment.

Just thinking about the encounter—as implausible as it now seems—gets me hot all over again. And when something random like this happens, you just have to tell someone, you know? So forgive me if I've overshared.

Anyway, let's talk about my ex-boyfriend.

I'm not sure that the girl in my econ class experienced this when they slept together, but whenever Josh and I were finished with what, in the wake of Parker, I can only laughingly refer to as sex, he always seemed to have some excuse to immediately hop out of bed.

There was studying to do. A TV show to catch up on. A phone call to make. A class to get to. A shower to be taken. An appetite to be satisfied. A friend to meet.

(Probably the girl from my econ class.)

I had delayed enrolling in grad school when my father died, and after two brutal years living with my mother, I had let Josh convince me to move from Florida to Texas to continue my education. Yet once the deed was done, Josh never seemed to actually want to spend time with me. I sometimes thought that the act of convincing me to upend my life, as pitiful as it may have been, had been nothing more than a game to him. A game that fed his insatiable ego.

And once the game was won, he lost interest in it.

And in me.

The handcuff thing had merely been another game. But when I had refused to cooperate, I immediately fell to the bottom of his list of priorities—assuming I was ever on it in the first place.

I don't mean to sink into the emotional quagmire of compare and contrast, but we all do it, don't we? We look at the person lying beside us and think about the one who previously occupied that sacred space and wonder if this one will turn out to be more thoughtful and considerate and loving and… you know the drill.

Sometimes we delude ourselves into believing he is a better version—even though our instincts warn us to the contrary—and we're too often disappointed to discover that those instincts were right.

I wanted to believe that in Parker's case, he was the real deal. But once burned, twice shy and all that. What I did know for certain was that he was more of a real man than any I'd ever been with before. Not that there were all that many. But I couldn't imagine a more superior model than the one lying next to me—and I had absolutely no solid evidence to back that feeling up.

Parker was little more than a stranger to me. And let's face it, until quite recently, as he had freely admitted, he had not treated me all that well.

Yet despite all that was swirling around us, all that was troubling him, and despite the fact that we were still lying on the computer room carpet wearing nothing but what God had given us, he seemed focused only on me.

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