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“My mom insists we come over today.”
He groans. “Can we not talk about your mom while my cock is seconds from fucking you?”
“She texted,” I continue as if I didn’t just ruin the mood. “She and Dad want to meet the man I snuck off with last night.”
With a mildly frustrated sigh, Deacon backs up, leaning back on his haunches as he stares down at me.
“I’ve met your parents before, Anna.”
I know he has, but I’m not going to open my mouth and remind him that it was on his wedding day when he was marrying another woman. Everyone has a history. Ours is just a little more tangled than most.
“They want to meet my man,” I clarify instead.
His grin is radiant as he leans over, pressing his mouth to mine.
“They’re going to have to wait until this afternoon.”
I squeal like a schoolgirl when he strips me down.
We don’t make it out of my condo until the sun is sinking low in the sky.Chapter 41Deacon
“Can you not walk like that? You might as well be waving a huge red flag right now.”
Anna grins over her shoulder as I slowly trail behind her up the front walk of her parents’ home.
When she spins to face me, she catches me staring at her delectable ass.
“One, stop staring at my ass.” I grin, not looking even a little remorseful. “Two, if we hadn’t spent the day in bed, maybe I wouldn’t be a little sore.”
I grin down at her before cupping her cheeks in my huge hands as I drop a sweet kiss on her mouth.
“Which reminds me, we need to grab condoms on the way back tonight.”
I swallow. “You’re not on birth control?”
She shakes her head, and I can tell by the apprehensive look in her eyes that she’s wondering if I’m on the verge of freaking out.
“No condoms.”
“Really?” Surprise fills every feature of her face.
“No condoms.”
“No condoms mean babies.”
“No condoms.” My smile grows wider each time I repeat the words.
“No condoms,” she agrees.
This is a monumental conversation. It’s a need for celebration, and hell, getting started right away as far as I’m concerned, but just as I lower my mouth to hers to seal it with a kiss, the front door swings open wide. I’m not lucky enough to get caught kissing Anna by someone on the house staff. No, both her mother and her father are standing in the doorway watching us. Her mom is smiling with her hand over her heart, and I know she’s going to be easy to win over. Her father, always a serious man, is watching us with a stony look on his face.
Anna clears her throat, pulling a foot or so away from me, and I want to remind her that she’s thirty years old, but then I remember that I’m thirty years old as well and mauling a grown woman in front of her parents may come off a little disrespectful.
This will literally be the very first time I’ve met someone’s mother. I married Dani at eighteen, but neither of her parents came to the wedding they didn’t support. The first time I saw her mother was in court the day of our divorce. The only time I came face-to-face with Dani’s father before we were wed was the time he shot me down in his office.
I don’t have the best track record where women are concerned, but I’d do anything for the woman at my side. I want her parents to like me, if only so she doesn’t have to choose. It didn’t go so well for me the last time when Dani left me to have her trust fund reinstated.
“Mr. and Mrs. Grimaldi.”
I walk forward and hold out my hand to her father first. Surprisingly, he takes it immediately, albeit gripping it a little more than necessary. I grip in turn and think I see a hint of respect in his face when the corner of his lip twitches.
“Ma’am.” Mrs. Grimaldi swats my hand away and surprises me with a hug.
“I thought we agreed to hold out a little longer,” her husband mutters with a laugh, and when I look over, his face is bright with an easy smile.
“You guys are jerks,” Anna says with a laugh. “Can we get inside before you start giving him a hard time?”
When Anna’s mom releases me, she doesn’t go far, keeping one arm wrapped around my waist as she turns to lead us into the house.
From the outside, the home is stately, but to my surprise it’s very welcoming on the inside. It’s lived in with shoes lined up near the door and a visible coat rack most rich people would refuse to have in their homes.
“We expected you sooner,” Mr. Grimaldi says as he leads us to the sitting room, a cozy den with a wide-screen television and a coffee table littered with financial magazines and a deserted half-empty water bottle.
