Sorry, you must be a member of this group to do that.
“Fuck, it’s cold,” Parker bites outs, dragging me through the sludge until I’m flush against his chest. His arms snake around me, holding tight. “But you’re not.” My nose kisses the front of his t-shirt. “Because I’m the sun, right?” There’s a lengthy pause, a considerable silence, as Parker digests my question while the water licks our thighs. He breathes a tapered sigh into my hair. “You’re the moon.”
