Chapter 43
Willow
Deacon’s kisses were hungry, and each one fed into another, like we couldn’t get enough of each other.
There was another and another until I had to pull away to suck in a breath as my back hit the wall of the living room.
His body pressed me against it as his wide palm cradled the back of my head, that protective hold shifting to a mind-scattering stroke of his fingers when his mouth dipped lower to skate down my neck, and my body grew hot at the contact.
“We did the wall already,” I said on a pant.
“I guess we’re doing it again.” When he kissed me just under the neckline of my T-shirt, where my neck met my collarbone, my knees weakened at the roll of pleasure through my lower belly the kiss elicited.
His fingers worked their way from my waist to the skin just under the hem of my shirt, and I groaned. “Are you sure you want to stay?”
He chuckled against my neck and pressed his hips forward, the hard length of him pressing against my belly. “Very.”
“Oh,” was all I could think to say. Deacon’s fingers sliding up my side and over my ribs fried my brain. “Oh! You want to…you know…F me.”
Deacon chuckled against my neck again, raising his head to meet my gaze, his brown eyes soft, his hair still damp from the rain.
“Did you just use the letter F as a verb again?” A grin spread across his face, and the slow path of his fingers over my ribs stilled, instead making small circles there.
His touches were so comfortable, like he’d been touching me for years.
“We only practiced dirty talk a few times…” Despite my brain moving in nine different directions, most of them toward the storm of potential energy between my thighs, I returned his grin. “You knew what I meant.”
Deacon’s smile continued to spread, and he cupped both of my cheeks and kissed me on the lips—it was a peck, soft and sweet, and nothing like the demanding, insistent connection of a few minutes earlier.
I liked this kiss, though. I liked the idea that I got to know what Deacon’s kisses were like.
“I knew what you meant,” he said, hands still holding my face.
“And yes.” He kissed me again, softly on the lips, for a few beats longer this time.
“I want that when you’re ready.” His gaze moved over my face—to my eyes and then to my lips and back. “You’re so beautiful.”
“I’m all wet,” I said, wanting to touch a hand to my hair to fix it but not wanting to move from where my hands rested low on Deacon’s waist.
“That’s good when it comes to F’ing,” he said, face straight for a minute before his grin returned.
“It sounds silly when you say it.” But I couldn’t stop grinning back up at his familiar, handsome, chiseled face.
“I’ll tell you a secret.” He lowered his head, and his teeth brushed my earlobe. The sharp, scraping sensation made that same wave of pleasure roll through my body.
“Oh my God,” I said on an exhale when he did it again, leaving me squirming. “What’s the secret?” Because if it was how he learned about all these places on my body, I didn’t want to know.
He nipped my earlobe once more and then kissed me there. “It sounds silly when you say it, too.”
“Shut up.” I pushed at his shoulders, and he had his playful smile on his face when he took a step back, holding a hand to his shoulder as if I’d injured him. “If you don’t like me talking about F’ing, you won’t get to do it to me.”
“With you.” He reached for my hands and took them in each of his, tugging me forward from the wall. “Not to you.” He lifted my hands to his lips and dropped soft kisses on each of my knuckles. “When that happens, it’s you and me together, Low.”
He kissed each knuckle again and guided my hands behind his neck.
“But I think we should wait,” he said, hands falling to my waist.
“To fu…” It was on the tip of my tongue. I’d wanted to impress him with my boldness, but I felt flustered by this sudden change of events. “To have sex?”
“You were so close!” He brushed his lips against mine.
“I need more practice,” I said, taking in the feel of his hair through my fingers.
“That can be arranged.” Deacon’s grip on my waist loosened, but I loved the weight of his hands there. “We both had a lot going on the last few days.” He swayed with me, like we were dancing or something. “We don’t need to dive in tonight.”
“You’re probably right,” I admitted, warring with myself.
Every nerve in my body cried out for Deacon—for his touch and his body, for his strength and his tenderness—but in the back of my mind was still the doubt and worry that it would go wrong, that I would be wrong.
I recognized the insecurities immediately because I’d internalized them so often with Spencer. “Will you leave, then?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Hell no,” I said into his chest. I’d peeled off my wet sweatshirt earlier, but I still shivered from the chill of my soaked jeans. When I wasn’t being nailed to the wall by my personal heater, it was much chillier, and I pressed closer to him.
“You should get a hot shower,” he offered, moving one of his hands in lazy circles over my lower back.
“Is that an offer to join me?”
He let out a bark of laughter. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because you’d want to F me in the shower?”
He laughed again. “When you were naked and soapy in front of me in that small shower stall? When I could see and touch you everywhere? Yeah, F’ing would be on my mind.”
I pulled his face down so our lips were a breath apart and kissed him.
“What was that for?”
“For using the letter so I don’t feel silly.” I slid my fingers down his neck and across his broad shoulders, marveling at being able to touch him like this, knowing he wouldn’t shy away. “And for agreeing to stay tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”
“It’s been a really bad few days until tonight.” He kissed me this time, his lips gentle enough that it made my silly heart wish for more. “I don’t want to be alone, either.”
I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck again, this time to hug him.
He’d had a rough few days, too, probably rougher than me, and we stood in each other’s arms for a minute or two.
Deacon was fun and flirty and put up a good front, but he didn’t like being alone.
Lots of things about him clicked into place with his arms around me.
“Deac?” I said, against his neck.
“Yeah?”
“Your, um…” I motioned to where his rather imposing erection was wedged against me. “I feel bad leaving you worked up.”
“I’m fine. Go get your shower. He and my hand are foraging buddies from way back.
” He kissed the side of my head when I did an involuntary shiver, even while laughing.
“Shoo,” he said, nudging me toward the stairs.
I climbed then, looking over my shoulder to see him watching me, following me with his gaze until I rounded the corner.
Cruz is safe. I’m over Spencer.
Deacon wants to be with me.
I’m moving forward.
I repeated the statements in my head as I stripped down and steam filled the bathroom, repeated them to make sure I was reminded that things were starting to feel good again. As I stepped under the spray, the worry that another shoe was about to drop lasted only a second before I chased it away.