Chapter 16 Closer
Closer
Jenny
After Ayana’s, he laced my fingers through his and tucked them in his pocket. We walked up and down the main street until I couldn’t feel my toes. When we found the chocolatier shop, we snagged a corner table and indulged in the best hot chocolate I ever tasted in my life.
I didn’t want to leave.
Until Deacon took my hand.
Cuffing my wrist, his thumb traced the veins in my wrist and stroked my palm, the sensation making me squeeze my thighs together. Making me hungrier for him.
When we finished, he helped me on with my coat, dragging it up my arms before smoothing it over my shoulders.
I leaned into him, pressing my back to his chest as he dipped his head and pressed a firm kiss to the shell of my ear.
I shuddered, my body demanding more as his hand found the small of my back. He took my hand. Pressed his lips to my temple. Tucked me under his arm.
Every touch stoked the fire higher.
Outside, the cold cleared the fog of desire. I needed to think. To plan. To figure out the best way to move forward.
In a bid for more time, I dragged him to a few more shops where I found treats for Maggie and Maxine’s boys, as well as fuzzy sleep socks with safety grips on the soles for Ansel and Darlene. Eventually, the cold won out, and my toes begged for relief.
In the car, Deacon cranked up the heat and placed my palm on his upper thigh. I pressed down, kneading the hard muscle as he drove.
By the time we hit the intersection heading into Moose Lake, I was done thinking, planning, or worrying about anything other than my desperate need for his touch.
I squeezed his thigh. “Can we go to your place?”
His eyebrows rose. “My place?”
“Is that okay?”
He furrowed his brow and prodded, “Do you want to stay the night?”
I shook my head.
He chuckled. “What are you up to, baby?”
I huffed out a soft laugh.
The truth was, I wanted to get my hands on him, but I didn’t want it to happen at my place. Somehow, I had to preserve my safe space while we explored this thing between us. I didn’t want the memory of this, our second first time, to be in my bed in my apartment to haunt me if things fell apart.
Especially considering the tripwires that lay in wait. Buried so deep, he couldn’t see them. But I did.
Guilt assaulted me. How could I let him walk right into them? At some point, I had to trust him enough to tell him everything.
When we got to his house, he took my coat and dropped to his knees to help me with my boots.
I grasped his shoulder. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I protested.
He looked up at me, those dark eyes steady on mine. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, Jenny. Not anymore.”
There was something about this big, strong, dark and dangerous man on his knees that did something for me.
It also scared me.
Made me want to shrink into myself and disappear, hide my unworthiness, at the same time as it urged me to put myself entirely on display.
Give my whole self over into his care.
His hands.
Only for him.
Before I could sort through the rubble of my thoughts, he rose to his feet.
Taking my hands, he walked backwards and gently pulled me through the kitchen. “I’ve taken orders long enough to know I need to be the one giving them.”
I smirked. “You going to order me around?”
His cheeks darkened. “Not in any way you won’t like.” He paused. “I hope.”
My brows rose. “You don’t sound sure.”
His lips twitched and then he grinned, and it was devastating. “I’ll ease you into it.”
“When?” I demanded as we reached the couch.
He pulled me down onto his lap and replied, “When you’re ready.”
I stared into his eyes.
I’m ready now.
How could his voice be so calm and steady when I was breathless and my blood was pounding through my veins?
How could I ask him to touch me?
I don’t know how to do this.
I tugged at the hem of my sweater, smoothing it down over my thighs.
“Are you uncomfortable? Want me to find you something else to wear?”
Let me slip into something more comfortable. Yeah. This sounded like we were heading in the right direction.
“Come on.” He patted my bottom and helped me off his lap before walking past me to the short set of stairs leading up to the bedrooms.
My steps slowed.
Was I ready for this?
By the time I made it to his bedroom, he was on his way back out. Stopping beside me, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and dipped his head, his dark, serious eyes seeking mine. “There’s pyjama pants and a t-shirt.”
I nodded and swallowed.
He wasn’t catching on, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready for him.
He grinned, his face morphing from handsome to wicked in a flash. “Not sure how well they’re going to fit, but they’ll be a whole lot more comfortable than your sexy librarian skirt.”
I barked out a laugh. “You’ve always had a thing about librarians.”
Every time he smiled or laughed, I saw the Deacon I had loved. He was still there, fully present under the hard shell of the man he’d become.
He shook his head, his smile softening. “No. I’ve always had a thing about you in those sexy skirts.”
I shook my head, bemused. My skirts, the few I owned, were long, ensuring they showed as little leg as possibly, and the sweaters I wore with them always covered my bum.
But truth shone in his eyes.
And I’d take it.
Especially tonight.
His dark eyes caressed my face and softened further. He released my wrist and slid his hand down to briefly squeeze mine. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
I watched him walk away as I chewed my lip.
Should I slip naked into his bed?
Then what? Call him up and say ‘Hey! Come get me big fella!’”
I shook my head and turned on my heel to go into his room.
Just inside the door, I came to an abrupt halt.
There had been three bedrooms upstairs, but the owners had combined two to make a truly spectacular master bedroom. A sturdy, king-size bed and what looked to be an ensuite bath drew my attention.
Walking over to the bed where his clothes lay, I pressed my palm into the heavy duvet to test the mattress.
I glanced back at the door.
Did I have time to test it?
Crawling up, I gingerly sat down.
“Nice,” I whispered. Before I could talk myself out of it, I lay down and closed my eyes.
I could see myself here with him.
I breathed deep.
I could abandon myself with him on this big bed. One day, hopefully, I would.
Sliding off the mattress, I shimmied out of my skirt and pulled my sweater over my head Next, I peeled off my thick, black tights and rolled them into a ball.
Should I take off my bra?
I looked down, taking in the plain, white cotton and wished I had the guts to wear something sexy.
Or at least sexier.
Leaving the bra on, I pulled his t-shirt over my head then lifted the neckline to my nose to breathe in his scent.
My eyelids fluttered shut.
And they weren’t the only thing fluttering.
Pulling the clips from my hair, I massaged my scalp and allowed the heavy mass to tumble down my back.
I eyed the sleep pants.
Sucking in a lungful of courage, I left them on the bed and padded downstairs, my legs and feet bare.
Deacon stood with his hands hitched on his hips. The warm light of a solitary lamp cast him in shadows as he stared out the window into the night.
When I hit the second stair from the bottom, he turned to me with a smile.
As soon as he saw me, his face went blank, and his hands dropped to his sides.
I froze in place, unable to read him.
His eyes traveled down to my bare toes before dragging themselves back up to my face.
I held my breath.
And then he dipped his chin.
My foot lifted and I grabbed the railing, my toes searching for the stair behind me as my body screamed, ‘Retreat!’
“Oh, no, baby,” he rumbled, his face dark as his long legs ate up the space between us. “It’s far too late for that.”
Reaching me, eyes hooded, he captured my gaze and cupped one hand around my waist.
My eyes widened on his as the muscle in his jaw twitched. Gaze hard and unyielding, he slowly slid his other hand up the outside of my thigh. When he reached my panties, he ran his thumb along the edge, sweeping down toward the inside of my thigh.
“Oh,” I breathed, my knees nearly buckling as my panties flooded.
Moving closer, he grasped my wrists and wrapped my arms around his neck before taking hold of my hips and yanking me forward.
Voice deeper than I’d ever heard it, he ordered, “Wrap those legs around my waist, baby.”
I complied readily, staring into his dark eyes and hanging on as he turned and walked us over to the couch.
Sitting down with my knees straddling his thighs, he cupped the nape of my neck and pulled my mouth to meet his.
Lips firm but gentle, he coaxed my mouth open.
Invited my tongue to play.
Nipped at my lips.
And left me panting for more.
Leaning back, he grasped the hem of his t-shirt and gently lifted it up over my head before dropping it to the floor.
His eyes dropped to my breasts, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “God, you’re beautiful.”
My plain, white bra embarrassed me. Did he find it lacking? I mean, of course it was, but it was the only type I owned.
“Um,” I began to squirm under his gaze, pressing my fingers into the hard muscles of his shoulders.
“Hush,” he muttered. “Not a word.”
Not a word?
My hands drifted down to the buttons of his shirt and slipped first one and then another free, desperate to feel his naked chest under my palms.
He grasped my wrists and settled my hands on his shoulders. “Don’t move.”
I blinked.
Don’t talk, don’t move?
This might work out in my favour. No guesswork.
With nothing to do or say, I settled my weight on his lap and waited.
He stroked my hip. “Very nice.”
My body eased further, those two words and that gentle touch dipping into my psyche and soothing the beast that always strived to be in control.
His other hand landed on my knee and swept up the length of my thigh to rest on my other hip. Gripping both, he dragged me forward, the heat at my core mere inches from the hard length pressing against the placket of his pants.