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“Deacon, what—” Her breath hissed from her when he used his grip in her hair to twist her around until she faced him with wide eyes. Before she could say anything else, he gripped her throat, shoved her back against the wall and took her mouth.
Whatever she wanted to say ended up muffled by the kiss. Her fingers curled into the T-shirt under his cut. They didn’t push him away, instead pulled him closer.
He deepened the kiss, hoping she’d understand what he wanted—hell, needed—without having to say the words. Without having to slice himself open to expose that need she might not share.
He didn’t want to hear her say no. He wanted to hear her say yes.
There was no guarantee on how she’d answer. Because of that, he didn’t ask. He used his mouth, the intensity of his kiss, to show her how much he wanted her.
And not only for sex.
He wanted that “more” she might not be willing to give him.
Vibrations worked their way under his palm and up her throat. Stealing her groan, he mixed it with his own.
Once again, he was rock hard, but he wasn’t taking it there. Not now. Not this time.
This time was a message. One he hoped she’d hear loud and clear.
She twisted her head enough to break the seal of their kiss, their lips just a fraction apart, their intermingled breaths ragged and quick.
When she whispered, “Deacon,” her eyes were squeezed shut.
It was then he knew she heard his unspoken message.
His hand on her throat slid up to cup her jaw. “Reese.” Her name came out as rough as sandpaper, but at least it didn’t sound desperate.
Her green eyes opened. They were troubled but tinged with surprise. “I don’t...” Her words faded off on a breath.
He pinned his forehead to hers and whispered, “You don’t gotta say anything.”
She tried again. “I don’t...”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Reese, don’t...” He mentally cursed the desperation he was trying to hide.
And failing.
Goddamn it.
“I’m not sure I can...”
He hung on her words, worried how they would end.
“I don’t—”
Her phone rang on the desk, causing them both to start. He didn’t want her to answer it. Whoever it was could leave a message.
This moment was about them. No one else.
In the inner pocket of his cut, his phone beeped. A text message wasn’t as important as what was currently going on between him and Reese. Everybody else could just fuck off.
He spat out a curse when they heard a pounding on the door .
The shouted, “We gotta go!” caused ice to slither through his veins. “Deacon!”
Deacon quickly stepped back and finished securing his jeans and belt while Reese hurried to shimmy her skirt back in place and tug her panties up.
She snagged her phone when it beeped at the same time Deacon’s did.
Her sharp inhale of breath had him snagging her phone from her grip and reading the message on the screen.
BILLY’S HERE!
“Yo, asshole! We gotta go!”
He rushed to the door, unlocked it and faced an agitated Judge.
“Rook sent out a mass text. You get it?”
He hadn’t checked his phone yet but he was sure of what the text said now that he read what Reilly sent Reese.
“Got my .40. Grab your cuffs, pepper spray and .40, too. We need to move.” His green eyes landed on Reese. He frowned at her disheveled appearance but didn’t mention it. “You stay here with the dogs. Gonna lock the front door and set the alarm. Don’t let anyone in.”
Her spine snapped straight. “No.”
Judge’s eyebrows launched into his hairline. “No?”
Reese set her jaw. “No, I’m going with you.”
Judge shot Deacon a look that clearly stated, “Get your woman on a leash.”
Right. He wanted to see his cousin try that with Cassie. Judge’s deep voice would end up so high-pitched, it would shatter glass.
“For fuck’s sake, we don’t got time for this shit,” Judge growled. “I’m takin’ my sled. You want her ridin’ shotgun with you, you deal with it.”
Deacon knew arguing with her would just waste time. He talked as he moved. “Takin’ my truck. Leavin’ the dogs here.” He opened the small closet in his office and squatted in front of the safe, spinning the dial. “You’ll do what I say and stay out of the way, you got me?”
The safe clicked and he jerked open the door. He popped to his feet after grabbing his loaded Ruger .40 and his single shoulder holster, which hung above the safe. He shucked his cut, slipped the holster on, secured his gun and shrugged his cut back on over it.
“You carry a gun?”
“Only for self-protection. Pepper spray’s usually my go-to for apprehension of skips. Not pluggin’ someone with a bullet keeps me out of prison. And to do that while capturin’ a fugitive is sometimes way too fuckin’ temptin’.”
He was still moving as he talked. He grabbed her arm as he passed her and used it to propel her out of the office. “Those fuckin’ shoes are gonna slow us down. Take them off, put them back on once you’re in the truck.”
