12. Henri
Chapter 12
Henri
Does Deacon know I love EDM? I can’t imagine how he would. I don’t get to listen to it a lot. Nathan thinks it’s noise, and some wolves can’t stand all the squeaky sounds.
Yet we’re in a full-on rave. The DJ is amazing.
Deacon leads us to a person standing by a long line of coat racks.
This is a very classy rave.
Deacon motions to me, and I shrug. I don’t have anything to give the guy. But while Deacon takes off his coat and tie, the man goes down the line and comes back with a plastic bag with something in it. He hands it to me, and I fail to read his lips over the sound of the music.
Shaking his head, Deacon takes the bag and opens it. He shakes out the contents and shows me that it’s a shorter white dress. I look around for a place to change, which gets me an eye roll before he drapes his jacket around my shoulders. I try to object, but Deacon doesn’t stop moving. As he drops to his knees in front of me, his hands adeptly slide the zipper down the back of my dress.
It’s almost innocent the way his hands slide the white dress up my calves and then my thighs. Slowly he bunches the velvet fabric around my thighs while trailing the shorter dress in its place. He gets close to the top of my hips, and I shuffle uncomfortably.
Deacon, on his knees before me, looks up, checking in on me. His eyes are fixated on me, waiting and asking for permission. I hold his jacket tighter together and nod.
He slides it up, the white dress covering me. Deacon rises to his feet and runs his nose against my cheek, reassuring me. An intimate gesture that sends my pulse racing.
The attention Deacon pays to the unhurried movements, adjusting his hands and the fabric to keep me covered, settles the uncertainty of changing in a crowded space.
He’s so close, and despite how many people surround us in this proximity, I can still pull a breath of his whiskey and cedar scent. I gasp, fighting the excitement running through my body.
So close to him, my wolf whispers and pushes me forward, loving everything about the two of us together.
She’s not alone. It feels so good to have someone care for me in the most thoughtful of ways.
Deacon’s hands have effectively slid up around my bust. He stills his hands against my upper rib cage, thumbs resting on the outside of my breasts where my bralette is thinnest. His touch is so intimate yet familiar. Calm and steady like we’ve done this together a hundred times before.
Is this what being with Deacon would be like? It’s a fleeting thought while I lift my arms.
He raises both the velvet dress and his jacket off me while pulling the white dress in place. My chest, not all that big, doesn’t require a bra, so I reach behind me for the clasp. But Deacon sees and beats me to it and, in one careful movement, unhooks it. Still blocking me from the view of the club, he also diverts his gaze while I pull the undergarment from the dress.
The space between us is electrified with a tension that makes my pussy clench.
I try to ignore it and push the thoughts out of my mind, but the wanting is there all the same.
After placing the velvet dress in the garment bag, he taps on my necklace. I go to remove it, and he nods. Once I get it off, he puts it in his pocket and hands the rest of our items to the coat check guy. With a hand guiding me on my lower back, Deacon leads us out on the floor.
In the black light, I discover the dress isn’t just white. The patterning, somehow pushed into the levels of the fabric, glows in a vibrant pattern.
Deacon nods knowingly and spins me around like he’s drinking me in. A dark, needy look crosses his face, and damn if it doesn’t feel good being the object of his desire. Even if it’s not something I should... It’s just for one night, and it’s not like I’ve kissed him or anything.
At Cade and Thalia’s wedding, I waltzed with Deacon. While I’m not an expert on dancing, I was positive he was good at waltzing. But now, as Deacon leads me onto the floor, I’m certain the truth is that Deacon can dance. Plain and simple, he can dance. Out on the floor and moving to the music, his rhythm is effortless and sensual.
We start apart but are slowly lost in the crowd’s energy and movements, subconsciously working ourselves together. Our bodies press closer together, his hands on my hips. We’re in and out of each other’s space.
When he’s behind me, Deacon grinds up against me, and it’s not unwelcome. It’s so good. No, not good. Better than good.
Need. My wolf demands more.
As if Deacon can hear my wolf, he wraps his arms around my waist, my ass pressing firmly against him. When the next bass drops, Deacon brings me low before we’re into the next hype and he spins me.
Deacon’s pupils are blown wide. I know he’s mostly sober. The fun flask from his coat pocket isn’t anything more than whiskey. It only leaves the excuse of low light to pretend it isn’t lust of the deepest level.
Rolling my hips, I grind against his leg, dancing myself farther into him. I rest a wrist on his shoulder, my other hand finding his upper arm.
My eyes fall closed, unable to handle the flashing lights from the way my arousal has blown my pupils wide. I may regret this later, being so close to him, yet I can’t make myself care.
He runs his hand from my lower back down to my ass, caressing it before running back up into my hair. I suck in a breath and open my eyes, locking onto Deacon’s gaze. His eyes are dark with his wolf rising to the surface.
I didn’t expect to see his wolf. Not on a night like tonight.
The sensual way we move together sends desire coursing through my whole body. The sexy beat of the song dragging us into the movements. Not unaffected, Deacon smirks and shifts his hips, rubbing against my core. I gasp and throw my head back, lost to what a little more friction between us could do.
That is until the song changes, and we part to match the energy of the crowd around us.
It’s been ten minutes, I swear, but when I look at the clock on the wall, it’s been so much longer.
The countdown is starting to flash in time with the music. Thirty seconds until midnight .
“This has been amazing, Minneapolis!” The DJ cuts in.
Howls, wolves’ and humans’, go up over the sounds of the thundering beat. Deacon’s joins the chorus, and mine comes out so effortlessly with his.
I’ve never enjoyed howling; it’s too wolf, weird and abnormal, but right now it feels so... right.
“Get ready to count it down with me,” the DJ instructs. “Then you know what to do. Grab a partner and kiss your way into a new year full of love.”
“One life!” the crowd chants with the music.
“One love!” the DJ calls back as he cranks the music.
The soundtrack he cuts on starts counting down from twenty.
The whole crowd shifts, going back to dancing, the thundering bass matching the seconds of time ticking down on the wall.
Deacon and I dance right along with them.
“Ten,” Deacon shouts with the crowd.
“Nine.”
He pulls me into him until there’s no room between us.
“Eight.”
The bass thuds in my bones.
“Seven.”
My heart is thundering in my head.
“Six.”
My wolf is howling inside with the excitement and the crowd.
“Five!”
Deacon’s eyes glow from one of the stage lights flickering around us.
“Four!”
I’m so close to Deacon I can smell the fur of his wolf.
“Three!”
Our eyes lock.
“Two!”
I’m practically wrapped around him.
“One!”
I grab hold of Deacon’s collar and kiss him.
Big mistake, Henri.
I try to pull away, expecting rejection, but Deacon brings his hands to either side of my head, and he kisses me back. His mouth moves over mine like we’re running out of time rather than starting a new year.
And I’ve never been kissed this good.
The crowd cheering around us is the only thing that seems to break Deacon and me out of our embrace.
Taking a few steps back, I cover my mouth, touching where our lips had just been locked together. That was amazing.
I’m lost in his eyes, wanting and desire pooling through me.
He licks his bottom lip but smiles, and the lust drops from his gaze, his features relaxing.
Deacon offers me his hand, and I’m starting to think our relationship is reversed today. Instead of me leading him through the media and the world of being active with the public, Deacon’s leading me through life.
I place my hand in his, and Deacon pulls me closer. Bringing his mouth to mine, he kisses me again. He moves against me, and we’re dancing together, kissing, and I don’t want to stop.
My wolf is howling inside, feeling so good and so right, caught up in this moment with him.
My hands drift into his hair, and I tug, drawing a moan from him. He opens his mouth, and my tongue plays with his.
The beats of the music are sensual, long and short beats intermingling, and it’s like the DJ is taking the energy shift in the room and using it as permission. I half expect orgies to be breaking out on the floor around us.
It isn’t until we’re panting that Deacon and I stop kissing.
With my forehead against his, I try to get my breathing under control.
What did I just do? Why did it feel so good?