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“Do you understand me, Charlie girl? I want your heart. I want it all.” Deacon’s mouth fell onto mine in a burning kiss that I knew I wanted to experience again and again. His arms curled around my body, his large hands searching and gripping and teasing until I was bowing into him.
His tongue tortured mine in a slow, declaring dance that didn’t match the rhythm of our hands or my pounding heart as his fingers trailed just inside the band of my shorts.
And then everything stilled.
His hands, his mouth, my heart . . .
Seconds passed before two of his fingers twitched against my bare hip, and I shuddered against him when his hands slowly moved lower, searching for underwear that he wouldn’t find.
A low rumble sounded in his chest before Deacon took my bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently. “What are you doing to me?” he whispered mostly to himself, and started to pull me closer, but I skipped out of his hold and stepped back toward the hallway leading to my bedroom.
I didn’t know what I was doing to him, but I knew what he was doing to me . . . what he’d done.
I’d thought I would never be able to trust anyone with my heart again, and though I had tried to keep it from Deacon Carver, it had been impossible. Even during the confusing times, even during the times when he’d broken a little piece of my heart, all I saw when I closed my eyes was him and what we could be. What we would be, because I knew he loved me too, and there was no longer a point in fighting it.
Deacon’s eyes darkened as he watched me back away, and suddenly he was stalking toward me. His long strides didn’t falter as he lifted me into his arms and walked us toward my bedroom.
His mouth never left mine. His hands gripped my body so tightly it was as if he wanted to memorize the feel of me beneath his hands, as if he wanted to make sure I was there.
The air in my lungs rushed out when my back hit the bed and Deacon’s body settled on top of mine. And just as he had been doing before, I dug my fingers into his back and shoulders. I felt like I had to hold on to something real; like I had to feel his body to know I wasn’t imagining this.
His mouth left a trail of hot kisses down my throat as he slowly lifted my shirt up my stomach, but both his touch and his mouth stopped when the bottom of the material teased my nipples.
“Remember what I said the other night.” His deep voice rumbled against my skin. It was more of a request than a question. “Say wait at the last second, and I’ll wait. Charlie Girl,” he demanded after a short pause.
“I know,” I said quickly, then sucked in a sharp gasp when his head suddenly dipped and he pulled one of my exposed breasts into his mouth.
His tongue rolled around my nipple and his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, sending little shock waves straight to my core. Over and over again until I was gripping his hair and whimpering his name and moving restlessly beneath him, needing more.
I lifted my hips from the bed when he pulled at my shorts, and exhaled shakily when he moved in a line down my stomach and spread my thighs.
“Deacon.” I swallowed thickly, and tried to ignore the way my heart was racing and chest was heaving with each ragged breath.
Because I wanted this. My body was screaming for me to let him to continue. But this . . .
I didn’t know how to let him do this.
Brown eyes met mine, his face just above my hips. “Say the word.” But even though his tone held so much promise, as he spoke he pushed my legs until my knees were bent and feet were planted on the bed. “Say the word, and I’ll hold you for the rest of the night.”
My head shook quickly as I fought with what I wanted and what I was too ashamed to allow to happen. “No, that’s not—I can’t—I don’t—I’ve never,” I said quickly, stumbling over the words. “He never . . .” I trailed off when Deacon’s brows arched up, and then a determined and possessive look slowly covered that handsome, handsome face.
A wicked grin tugged at his mouth as he pushed himself farther back, and then lowered himself until I could feel his breath against me when he said, “Wrong word.”
My back arched away from the bed and my hands fisted in the comforter when his tongue moved from my entrance to my clit. My skin covered with goose bumps as his tongue continued to torture me in a way I’d never imagined possible, and the warmth in my belly suddenly felt white-hot.
One of my hands shot to his head, my fingers wove into his hair and gripped when he pressed two fingers inside me. “Oh God!” I said breathlessly. “Deacon!”
I felt him smile against me before he resumed the sweet suffering.
It was too much. The soft and the hard and the feel of his smiles and silent laughters when I would gasp out a plea or curse from it all.
Something low in my stomach tightened, and that warmth burned hotter and hotter until that too felt like it was too much. My breathing hitched and my toes curled, trying to find some purchase in the comforter. My chest moved raggedly with my uneven breaths until it halted as my breathing stopped altogether . . .
And then came out with a rush when Deacon’s mouth and hand disappeared.
I felt his loss on more than a physical level. It felt like my body was screaming at him to come back and continue, when I couldn’t speak at all.
I threw one of my hands over my face when his wicked grin came into view as he moved over me. I needed to block that heated stare from seeing exactly how much I’d enjoyed that, when I was still completely mortified by it and embarrassed by the way my body craved more. I didn’t want to know that my inexperience was amusing to him when I knew all too well about his experience.
