Chapter 21 #2
His hand gripped at my waist again and he grinned. The sensation of the squeeze made me imagine him pulling me against him, of all the other ways he might grip me, and I blamed the alcohol because those were wild ideas. “I’m not used to someone else holding me up,” he admitted.
“Need me to show you how to maneuver into position?”
He chuckled, the sound a low rumble. “Did you re-do your first time holding hands with the vet?”
“No.” I shook my head. As I said it, I remembered Deacon taking my hand up on the hotel roof, comforting me when I was sad, and I debated correcting my answer. I hoped, though, that he might take my hand, not because I was sad but because he wanted to touch me.
Before I decided to say something, Deacon’s hand slipped from my waist, but his fingers grazed mine before he interlocked them with my own. “Three birds. One stone. I can keep you from falling. You can get a new first, and I get to hold your hand.”
His hands weren’t soft, but his fingers felt deliciously warm against mine. “Because I’m a damsel?”
“Because you’re my person.” His brow creased and he corrected himself. “You’re one of my people.” He squeezed his fingers with mine. “And I take care of my people.”
“I didn’t know I signed on for that.” He tugged me forward, and we strode along the sidewalk, hand in hand.
“Not optional.” His voice was returning to normal, and I wondered if holding hands wasn’t just for my benefit, if touching someone, if being touched, might be extra meaningful to him when he felt like he was losing everyone.
Again. “Rescuing and access to my exceptionally large penis if you’re ever in need. ”
I laughed and almost stumbled again, but his grip on my hand tightened and I caught myself. “Good to know.”
“And you’re pretty.” Deacon’s thumb brushing over my wrist made me feel tingling up my arm and warm between my thighs.
I glanced up, confused, and I had to remind myself it was incidental contact, that he was just readjusting his hand after catching me, but I prayed for him to do it again, craving that pulse of sensation.
“You said you’re not as pretty as Sybil,” he said. “That’s not true.”
We neared a neighborhood park with recent renovations.
The new playground equipment glowed in the moonlight, and a gazebo with a picnic table had been constructed in the grassy open area.
“Me? No way,” I said, picturing her bright smile.
She looked like the kind of woman Deacon would go for, not someone like me. “I’m just kind of plain.”
“You’re beautiful.” His thumb brushed my wrist again and this time traced a line up the side of my thumb. I couldn’t hide the intake of breath, and he paused his steps to glance at me. “You don’t know that?”
The wind picked up, and goose bumps rose on my arms, even under the sweatshirt. “Everyone is beautiful in some way,” I said, attempting to dismiss his comment. “I have a beautiful personality, and a lot of internet randos think my boobs look really good in a wet T-shirt.”
He shook his head and drew a slow circle on my palm.
“Not like that. You’re hard to look away from.
You’re beautiful. You’re…” He sucked in his own breath when I matched his movements and slid my thumb along his.
Seeing his expression change when I did that was like an injection of confidence.
Deacon actually liked me touching him. “Goddamn, I shouldn’t say this, but you’re sexy as hell. ”
We were only a few houses away from Cruz’s, but I slowed down my pace. I wanted this moment to stretch as long as it could, so I slid my fingers back from his and then back down along their length.
“You shouldn’t do that,” he said, voice low and filled with gravel.
“Why?” I stroked my thumb along his again, and the motion-sensing lights flashed on as we approached the front porch.
“Because I’m not the guy you want your first kiss with, and when you do that, every muscle in my body wants to kiss you.”
“You do?” My mouth must have been open like a fish—that’s how I felt. My gaze fell to his lips where his tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip. “But you’re only hanging out with me because Cruz asked you to.”
He shook his head slowly from side to side.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Deacon’s palm was suddenly along the side of my neck, his fingertips curling into my hair, and his intense gaze met mine.
“And I’m only admitting that because I drank too much.
I promised Cruz I wouldn’t think about you. Not like this.”
I couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at me the way he was now, like it was taking every ounce of restraint to keep him from pressing his lips to mine.
That look vibrated deep in my core. My whole life I’d been timid and shy, a follower, but standing on this darkened street with his fingers in my hair, I wanted something else for myself.
A streak of light shot across the sky, and I stood on my tiptoes, dragging Deacon’s face down to mine, pressing my lips against his.
I’d never initiated a kiss before, never taken a chance that the other person wouldn’t kiss me back, but it was like the lightning we’d seen in the sky the second our mouths connected.
He took control of the kiss, an arm moving to my waist and his palm guiding my head to get more purchase on my lips.
I’d never fully understood the expression of melting into a kiss.
I’d read it hundreds of times in romance novels, but I’d never felt it until I sank against him, losing track of where his body ended and mine began.
He slid his tongue along my lower lip, and I felt it between my thighs.
My groan inadvertently broke the moment.
We both sucked in a breath and looked at each other as the headlights of a passing car lit the street behind us until the sound of its engine faded away.
Creeping doubt slid into my thoughts, even as I marveled at still being in his arms. There were a million reasons I shouldn’t have done that—we’d been drinking, he was sad, this whole thing was temporary, and he was Cruz’s best friend.
I was trying to figure out the best way to put all of that into words, but he tensed as I said, “I’m sorry.
” I’d spoken too loud trying to be heard over the wind that gusted around us.
He didn’t loosen his grip, but sighed as he said, “I’m sorry, too.”
“For what?” My voice sounded breathless. I was breathless.
“For stealing your second first kiss.” He loosened his grip but didn’t let me go.
“You didn’t steal it.” I touched two fingertips to my lower lip, feeling his gaze there. “I gave it to you.”
Another car drove by, the bass of their stereo filling the surrounding air with a heavy beat.
Deacon’s hand slid away from my waist and grazed my fingertips.
“You should get inside. I think it might rain,” he said, taking a small step back.
The cold that swirled around me had nothing to do with the rain. What just happened?
I fiddled with the keypad on the door, but the feel of his lips on mine, of his body, lingered. “Do you want to come in?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”
Gus waited at attention when I opened the door, and I scratched him behind the ears.
Deacon’s brow furrowed, and I had a sinking feeling in my head.
He’d said I was sexy, that he’d wanted to kiss me.
The kiss felt like the start of something, not the end.
Had I missed something? I dipped my gaze to Gus in hopes of avoiding the pity on Deacon’s face. “Okay.”
“Low?” He reached for my hand again, now a familiar warmth. “I shouldn’t have…It’s just not a good idea. Cruz…”
“Nope. I understand,” I said hurriedly, injecting as much sunshine into my voice as I could. “You’re right. We’re drunk. It never happened.” I gave him a wide smile I didn’t feel. “Good night.”
A pained expression crossed his face as he said good night, waiting outside until I closed and locked the door. I peeked through the curtains and watched him walk down the driveway with his phone in his hand, and a message buzzed on my phone as he rounded the corner.
Deacon: Thank you for giving me your second first kiss.
Deacon: Sleep well.