Chapter Four #2
"Not even a little bit."
I came around the bar, took her hand, and led her to the open space in front of the fireplace. The room fell quiet, everyone looking on.
I pulled her close. My hand settled at the small of her back, hers on my shoulder, our other hands clasped between us.
"There’s no beat to dance to," she whispered.
"Then we'll have to create our own."
I started swaying, slow and easy, and she followed. No rhythm but what we created together, no soundtrack but the crackle of the fire and the sound of our breathing.
She fit against me perfectly. The top of her head reached my shoulder, and when she relaxed into me, I felt every place our bodies touched—her hand warm in mine, her waist beneath my palm, the soft press of her against my chest.
"You're good at this," she murmured.
"Just following your lead."
"Liar. You're definitely leading."
"Maybe we're both leading."
Her laugh was soft, intimate, just for me. We turned in lazy circles, and I became aware of everything—the scent of her shampoo, the way her fingers tightened on my shoulder when I pulled her closer, the hitch in her breathing that matched my own.
The bar, the crowd, the world—it all faded. Just her. Just this. Just the steady build of want that had been growing since she walked through the door.
"Deacon," she whispered.
I looked down. Her eyes were dark, pupils wide, lips slightly parted.
"Yeah?"
"What happens now?"
The question hung between us, loaded with possibility.
"What do you want to happen?"
She bit her lower lip. The almost imperceptible gesture told me everything I wanted to know.
My hand tightened on her back, fingers spreading against the soft sweater. "Stay. Wait for me to close up. Come upstairs."
"Yes."
The word was barely out before the remaining crowd erupted in whistles and applause, shattering the bubble we'd created.
"Free drink earned!" Jack announced. "Though I'd say you both won that round!"
We stepped apart, both flushed, both breathing harder than a slow dance warranted. Eve returned to her stool while I tried to remember how to function.
The next twenty minutes were torture. Last call came and went. Regulars settled their tabs with knowing looks and smirks. Sam and the crew handled cleanup while I worked the register, painfully aware of Eve sitting quietly at the bar, waiting.
Finally—finally—the last customer headed out into the snowy night.
"We've got this," Sam said, reading my face. "We can handle lockup."
"You sure?"
"Get out of here, boss." He was smiling. "Go."
I didn't wait for him to change his mind.
Eve stood as I approached, and I took her hand without a word. Led her through the kitchen, up the back stairs to my apartment above the bar.
The door had barely closed before she turned in my arms.
"Hi," she said, suddenly seeming nervous.
"Hi." I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just... it's been a while since I've done this."
"We don't have to—"
She kissed me, cutting off my words. Soft at first, tentative, then deeper as I responded. My hands found her hips, pulling her closer, and she made a small sound against my lips that went through me like electricity.
"I want to," she said softly when we broke apart. "I really want to."
"Me too." I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring it. "Since that first night. Since you pulled that mistletoe dare."
"That was only three days ago."
"Longest three days of my life."
She laughed, and I felt it against my chest. "Smooth talker."
"Just honest." I walked her backward toward my bedroom, kissing her between words. "You're all I've thought about."
We left a trail of clothing—her sweater, my flannel, her boots kicked off somewhere near the doorway. By the time we reached my bed, we were down to basics—her in leggings and a simple black bra, me in my thermal and jeans.
She sat on the edge of the mattress, looking up at me with those green eyes.
"You're staring," she said, but she was smiling.
"Can't help it." I pulled my shirt over my head, tossed it aside. "God, look at you."
Pink bloomed across her chest, spreading up her neck. She reached for my belt, fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle.
"Nervous?" I asked gently.
"A little. Good nervous." She got the belt undone, popped the button on my jeans. "It's been... a while. And I really like you, and I don't want to mess this up."
I cupped her face in my hands, tilted it up to meet my eyes. "You couldn't mess this up if you tried."
She kissed me then, pulling me down onto the bed with her. We rolled, tangling together, hands exploring. I unhooked her bra, tossed it aside, and took my time learning the taste of her skin—her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts.
When I took her nipple into my mouth, she gasped, back arching off the bed.
"Oh God, that feels good."
I sucked harder, rolling the other nipple between my fingers, and she writhed beneath me.
"Deacon, please—"
"Please what?" I kissed my way across to her other breast, gave it the same attention. "Tell me what you want."
"Touch me. I need—I need more."
I reached for the waistband of her leggings, dragging them down. She lifted her hips, helping me peel them off along with her panties until she was completely bare beneath me.
"Jesus," I breathed, looking at her. "God, look at you."
"Stop looking and touch me."
I grinned. "Bossy."
"You have no idea."
I kissed down her stomach, feeling her muscles jump under my lips. When I settled between her thighs, she tensed.
"Relax," I murmured against her inner thigh. "Let me make you feel good."
I spread her open with my thumbs and licked her in one long, slow stroke.
She cried out, hands flying to my hair.
"Oh fuck—Deacon—"
I did it again, taking my time, learning what made her gasp and moan. She tasted incredible, my cock straining against the tight fabric of my jeans with confirmation. When I circled her clit with my tongue, her thighs trembled.
"Right there," she panted. "Don't stop, please don't stop—"
I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked while sliding two fingers inside her. She was wet, so wet, and when I curled my fingers up, searching for that spot that would make her lose her mind, she nearly came off the bed.
"Oh God, oh God, oh—"
I worked her with my mouth and fingers, building the pressure, feeling her get tighter and tighter around me. Her breathing came in gasps, her hands fisting in my hair almost painfully, and I loved every second of it.
"I'm going to—Deacon, I'm—"
She came with a cry, her whole body going taut, pussy clenching around my fingers in waves. I gentled my touch but didn't stop, drawing it out, until she pushed weakly at my head.
"Too much, too much—"
I kissed my way back up her body, and she pulled me into a deep, hungry kiss, tasting herself on my tongue.
"That was—" She broke off, breathing hard. "I can't even find words."
"Don't need words." I kissed her again, slower this time.
She reached between us, wrapping her hand around my cock through my jeans, and I groaned.
"These need to come off," she said.
I rolled off the bed long enough to strip off my jeans and boxer briefs, and when I came back, she was propped up on her elbows, watching me with hungry eyes.
"Come here," she commanded.
I covered her body with mine, and the feel of her skin against mine, nothing between us, made me groan.
"I want you inside me," she whispered. "I need to feel you."
"Yeah?" I kissed her neck, her jaw. "You sure?"
"So sure." She wrapped her legs around my waist, guiding me to her entrance. "Please, Deacon."
I pushed inside slowly, watching her face. Her eyes fluttered closed, lips parting on a gasp as I filled her inch by inch.
"Okay?" I managed, holding still despite every instinct screaming at me to move.
"Perfect." She rocked her hips experimentally, and we both groaned. "You feel so good. I'm so full."
I started moving—slow, deep strokes that had her gasping beneath me. She met me thrust for thrust, her nails digging into my back, her heels locked at the small of my spine.
"Harder," she panted. "I won't break."
I gave her what she wanted, driving into her with more force. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard tapping against the wall, and neither of us cared.
"Yes, like that—God, Deacon—"
I braced myself on one arm, using my free hand to find her clit, rubbing circles while I fucked her.
"Oh fuck!" Her head thrashed on the pillow. "Don't stop, don't stop—"
"Not stopping." I was close, so close, but I needed her to come first. Needed to feel her fall apart around me. "Come for me, Eve. Let me feel it."
"Almost—I'm almost—"
I thrust harder, rubbed faster, and she shattered. Her pussy clamped down on my cock like a vice, her whole body shaking as she came. The sensation dragged me over the edge with her, and I buried myself deep as I emptied inside her, both of us crying out together.
I collapsed on top of her, both of us breathing hard. After a moment, I rolled to the side and pulled her with me, tucking her against my chest.
"Wow," she finally said.
"Yeah."
"I mean... wow."
I chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "Glad you approve."
"Approve? That was—" She tilted her head back to look at me. "Can we do that again?"
"Give me a minute and absolutely."
She traced patterns on my chest, fingertips trailing through the hair there. "I wasn't expecting this."
"The sex?"
"This whole trip. Meeting you. Feeling like this." She propped herself up on one elbow. "I came here to hide. Instead I found—"
"Found what?"
"I don't know yet." She smiled. "But whatever it is, I like it."
I tucked her hair behind her ear. "I like it too."
We stayed wrapped around each other, talking about nothing and everything until desire built again. The second time was slower, more exploratory—learning what made each other gasp and moan, taking our time.
Eventually we dozed off, tangled together.
I WOKE TO WINTER SUNLIGHT streaming through my window and Eve's warm body pressed against my side. Her hair was a mess, makeup smudged, and she'd never looked more beautiful.
She stirred, eyes opening slowly. "Morning."
"Morning." I kissed her softly. "Sleep okay?"
"Best I've slept in forever." She stretched, the sheet slipping down to reveal her breasts, and I felt myself harden again. She noticed, raising an eyebrow. "Again?"
"Can't help it. You're in my bed."
"Well," she said, rolling on top of me with a wicked smile, "we can't let that go to waste."
The third time was playful—lots of laughter mixed with gasps and moans. She rode me, and I watched, hands on her hips, both of us grinning like idiots until pleasure overtook us.
Eventually hunger drove us out of bed. I made coffee while she borrowed one of my t-shirts—an old Denver PD shirt that hit her mid-thigh. We settled at my small kitchen table with scrambled eggs and toast.
This was what got me. Not just the sex, though that had been incredible. This. The easy way she fit in my space, the comfortable silence as we ate, how right it felt having her here.
"So," I said, trying to sound casual, "what are your plans after Christmas?"
She looked up from her coffee. "Haven't thought that far ahead."
The answer was vague, but I didn't push. She was here now. That was enough.
"Makes sense. You're on vacation."
"Yeah." She fiddled with her mug. "Just trying to enjoy the moment."
"Good plan." I reached across the table, laced my fingers through hers. "See you at the bar tonight?"
She squeezed my hand. "I'll be there."
We finished breakfast talking about her favorite bad Christmas movies and whether Die Hard counted as a Christmas film (she said no, I said absolutely). She kissed me goodbye at the door, and I watched her walk to her car, my t-shirt peeking out from under her coat.
After she left, I stood in my apartment, looking at the rumpled sheets, the coffee mugs on the table, the small signs and scent of her everywhere.
Less than a week. I'd known this woman less than a week, and she'd already worked her way under my skin.
I thought about my Christmas wish at that market booth. The one I hadn't told her about.
Maybe dreams could come true after all.
I grabbed my coffee and headed downstairs, whistling "Jingle Bell Rock" completely off-key.
Tonight couldn't come fast enough.