56. Lyla
Chapter fifty-six
Lyla
My only instruction for Deacon’s agenda was to wear the red dress I packed as a backup dinner outfit. When I asked him why, he answered with a simple, “It’s cute, and I love that color on you.”
We arrived at a small Italian restaurant around five o'clock. The host walked us out to the patio and seated us at a table by the water. There was a clear ocean view over the small stone wall that circled the outdoor dining area. String lights wove in and out of the giant wood pergola overhead, and massive drums of red roses scattered along the perimeter.
While Deacon focused on his menu, I admired him across the table. He was wearing a plain white V-neck that hugged his shoulders and chest. It drove me insane to know what was waiting underneath the light fabric. He was right to get us out of that hotel room. While I was a little sore, I wanted more of him. I could still feel where he had been, and I had to cross my legs to ease the ache.
A place as nice as this didn’t just have open tables during spring break season, and Deacon was too much of a planner. Everything about the setting was beautiful, and I decided to wait until we were halfway through our first basket of bread before I popped the question.
“When did you make this reservation?” I prompted sweetly .
Deacon’s brown eyes shot up from the menu. At the realization of getting caught, his mouth fell into a faint smile. “I called the restaurant on Sunday. I wanted to make sure we had something to offer your dad if he asked to join our plans.”
“I suppose I’ll accept that.”
He clinked his wine glass to mine and walked me through the two options he debated for food. His voice blurred into the background as he stressed the importance of ordering a side of sweet potato fries, and my common sense took over.
I accepted Deacon’s answer because I didn’t—no— couldn’t accept anything else. I didn’t want to fall for Deacon even more than I already was. In a few weeks, he wouldn’t be mine anymore, and he’d belong to Cassie—the girl we started all of this for in the first place.
Once Deacon settled on a seafood pasta, we placed our order and spent the rest of the bottle of wine talking about vacations we took as kids and summer memories we had from growing up. I sat back and listened to him talk about the beach trips he took with his family before Dominic passed. I loved how he spoke about his brother, allowing his smile to deepen into the sides of his cheeks, laughing at the moments he was thankful to relive.
“My parents always said he should’ve been born on a beach,” he said, his grin falling slightly. He shook his head and looked out at the water.
I followed his gaze until the sound of his husky voice brought my attention back to him.
“Sometimes I wonder if I took advantage of all my time with him. I get caught up in memories where we fought, or I thought badly of him for some stupid shit that didn’t matter.” He chuckled and rested his elbows on the table. “He was my younger brother, you know? We weren’t supposed to get along all the time.”
“You were always there for him, right? If he ever needed anything, he knew he could come to you?”
Deacon nodded, running his thumb across my fingers.
“I see how you and Drew get along. I see how you both look out for each other,” I offered, prompting a small smile from his relaxed expression. “Dominic couldn’t have had better brothers.”
“What about you, Brooks?” he asked, his voice growing louder as we shifted to a different topic. “We haven’t talked about dinner.”
I rolled my eyes. “Deacon, I cannot listen to one more five-star review about their sweet potato fries.”
“Not this dinner, goofy. Last night with your dad.”
I finished the rest of my wine, eyeing Deacon over the glass. He chuckled at my obvious reaction to the catastrophe of a dinner with my father and his newfound family.
“While the news was shocking, the delivery and scattered comments throughout the meal were not.” The words I wanted to say were trying to escape the tightly wound ball I forced them into. “How are things going with Cassie?” I asked, eager to change the subject.
Deacon stopped mid-pour of refilling my wine glass, and a hollow laugh fell from his lips. “I don’t want to talk about Cassie.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m here with you , Lyla,” he stressed gently. “Right now, I just want to be here with you.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I was becoming a cocktail of nerves, and my stomach took an unexpected dip. What the hell was happening to me ?
Deacon reached across the table and squeezed my hand, causing everything that had me on edge to slip away. “Stop getting in your head, Brooks. Stop thinking about what happens next.”
I giggled. “Deacon Scott, are you telling me not to plan something?”
“I guess I am.” He flashed me a smug grin. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Have you thought more about what you mentioned to your mom? About talking to someone?”
“I have.” I lowered my glass back onto the table. “I was actually going to ask you for help getting started if that’s okay?”
“Of course that’s okay. We'll make time for it as soon as we get back.”
We’ll make time for it.
The wine started to kick in, and I followed Deacon’s warning and shut my mind off for the next hour. Dinner was delicious, and after we topped off with a cannoli and an espresso martini, we decided to walk back to the hotel.
“Are you cold?” Deacon slipped his hand into mine, pulling me away from the curb.
He shifted so he was closest to the street and smoothly switched my hand to his left. It reminded me of an old black and white movie when the guy offered the girl his coat, saving her from a car about to drive through a nearby puddle. Deacon’s white shirt would get soaked, giving me a reason to strip it off when we got back to the hotel.
“No,” I lied, smiling shyly at the gesture.
He tugged gently on my arm. “Let’s cut through here. ”
Deacon pulled me into an ally that connected the two main roads. It was wide enough for one car to drive down, and lights hung above us between the buildings. We rounded the corner, and the sound of a violin made me slow my pace.
A woman with beautiful braids stood outside a small boutique, and soon, a man playing the saxophone joined her. As they played, I couldn’t look away. The way the instruments blended was mesmerizing. Other people around us noticed, and soon, a small audience gathered around the duet.
“I haven’t heard this song since Dominic’s service,” Deacon murmured. His eyes locked on the performance, and when the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, I knew he was thinking of a memory.
As the chorus picked up, I recognized the tune. Lee Ann Womack’s “I Hope You Dance” poured gracefully down the street. An older couple sitting outside at a nearby bakery got up, making their way to the middle of the pavement. When the man held out his hand, the woman blushed before she took it.
Deacon took a step forward, pulling me with him. “Dance with me.”
I glanced nervously at the people around us. The crowd had doubled in size, and as I pondered my decision, a few more couples took to the concrete dance floor.
“Do you trust me?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, but—” I ignored how quickly I answered him. “Did you plan this?”
“No, I did not plan this,” he answered with a soft laugh. “Come here.”
I let him pull me toward the other dancing couples, and he spun me to face him .
“This is very rom-com of you,” I teased, resting my other hand on his shoulder. “It’s up there with your meet-cute obsession.”
“I love our meet-cute”—he smiled, sliding his hand around my waist—“and nothing was planned about that.”
The music continued, and we swayed along as the lyrics played in my head. For the next few minutes, I allowed myself to forget it was fake. I let myself pretend that Deacon Scott was someone I was worthy of keeping.
When the song ended, Deacon cupped my chin and kissed me. It was soft and slow, like we had nowhere else in the world to be. Right in the middle of the street, surrounded by people we’d never see again, everything felt real.
By the time we returned to the hotel room, I couldn’t take it anymore. Between the dinner and the dancing, the wine and the martini, my body was on fire. Heat pooled between my legs, and there was only one person I wanted there. I needed Deacon again. It was like a bottle of champagne was about to go off in my body, and my nerves had no idea how to handle the pressure.
I fisted my hands in Deacon’s shirt and pulled his mouth to mine. His lips moved roughly against me, hungry like we hadn’t just returned from a four-course meal. His shirt was gone, and my hands started on his belt buckle.
“Doing this again, huh?” he whispered.
“Please,” I begged.
He guided us backward until I felt something hard against my hip.
“That’s very rom-com of you, Brooks.” Deacon spun me around so I was facing the dresser. We hadn’t made it ten steps into the room and were already gasping for air. “Hold onto that,” he instructed .
I did as he asked, gripping the polished wood in front of me.
“That’s my girl,” he muttered, adjusting my hips so I could lean forward.
Anticipation flowed through me at his choice of words. Everything sounded different coming from Deacon’s mouth. His lips grazed my earlobe, and I thought I was going to implode. It was intoxicating being this close to him. I would never get enough.
Deacon pulled my panties to the side and slid into me slowly, giving my body the time it needed to adjust to the angle. I groaned as I reunited with the feeling of having him inside me. He rested his chest against my back and laced his fingers with mine. I used his hands for balance as he started to speed up, only to slow down again.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against my neck.
My body trembled underneath him as he trailed soft kisses from my ear to my jawline, filling me over and over again in a way that no one else had. A low groan vibrated against my back, and I was confident no sound would compare. Hearing Deacon this way sent sparks into my stomach, igniting a build-up I wasn’t sure I could handle in this position. I loved how he felt behind me, heavy and needy yet warm and all-consuming. With every thrust of his hips, the pressure climbed. My chest felt tight, and air entered my lungs at an unsteady pace. I was close, and when I leaned my head against our hands and my sighs turned to whimpers, he knew it.
Deacon pulled out, and I immediately looked over my shoulder. He spun me around so I faced him and pulled my dress over my head, his eyes working their way up my body. “I wanna see you, sweetheart. ”
Deacon grasped the backs of my thighs and carried me to the bed, placing me gently on the mattress before he crawled over me. The change took me by surprise, but when I stared into his brown eyes, I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere but here. It was like reuniting with familiar territory, and I knew exactly how Deacon liked to play.
I exhaled into his mouth as he slid himself back inside me. It was effortless, being with him. My body welcomed every thrust and every kiss. He took his time until there wasn’t an inch of me left that he hadn’t taken over.
He leaned his forehead against mine, forcing me to look at him. “Do you trust me?”
I nodded. I trusted Deacon with everything I had.
His lips brushed my temple while his hand settled on the base of my throat. “If you want me to stop, you tap my shoulder, understand?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
Deacon rocked his hips and pressed down with his hand. My fingers trailed up the back of his neck and through his hair. He quickened his thrusts, slamming against me as I felt the pressure building in my core. I opened my mouth to cry out, but no noise came. The limited airflow made it feel like my chest was going to explode, and the throbbing between my legs grew more intense.
Deacon groaned as he trembled above me. My nails dug into his shoulder blades as I arched my back, unable to control the sensation coursing through my body. I had never experienced something so incredible. It was what people meant when they saw stars. It was being at the mercy of the person who made you feel everything all at once.
Deacon released his grip, skimming his nose down my face until his lips found mine. “Are you okay?” he asked in a husky voice. His heart hammered against my chest, and he kissed me again before I could answer.
I blinked a few times and swallowed. When I opened my mouth, a sound that resembled a laugh came with my next breath.
“Lyla Brooks.” Deacon chuckled softly. “Where have you been , baby?”
I skimmed my thumb over his cheekbone and smiled sleepily back at him. Where had I been? The answer was simple yet painful. I had been wasting my time on calendar options.
Deacon rolled on his side, pulling me close to him. He kissed the sensitive spot behind my ear, and I closed my eyes, relaxing into his touch as I came down from what had just happened. He traced imaginary lines on my stomach, trailing over my hips and down my thighs. I nestled into my pillow, pushing away thoughts that threatened to fly into my head and ruin this feeling.
A few moments ago, Deacon had the same hands he was using to lull me to sleep pressed against the base of my throat. Yet somehow, being wrapped in Deacon Scott’s arms, I never felt safer.