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The sound of clothes being removed and hitting the floor was the only thing that joined my uneven breathing for a while before I felt his hands gently moving my shirt that he’d left rolled up on my chest earlier.
“Beautiful. You’re so damn beautiful, Charlie.” Deacon sounded like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. My name left his lips like a prayer.
None of the teasing I’d expected. No condescending tone.
None of the old Deacon I kept worrying would show up again.
Relief flooded me at his words, and my lips twitched into a smile. I kept my eyes shut when he slid the shirt over my arms and head, and let it fall to the floor as well.
He settled himself between my legs, a soft whimper moved up my throat when he pressed his length against me. “You walking?” he murmured as his mouth brushed across mine in the softest, sweetest kiss.
I curled my hands around his face when he rested his forehead on mine, and shook my head. “No.”
No, I was seeing everything Deacon couldn’t admit because he didn’t know how. I was enjoying living in this moment and being loved by a man like Deacon Carver while loving him the best way I knew how . . . with my eyes shut.
A low growl built in his chest when I curled my legs around his waist and lifted my hips so the tip of him slid against my entrance. “Christ, Charlie.”
He pushed in the slightest bit, and reached between our bodies to brush his fingers against where I was aching and craving him, but stopped when I attempted to bite back a moan.
“Tell me if you’re not ready,” he pled gently. “Tell me, or I’m making you mine, and you’re done walking away from me.”
“Are you waiting for me to change my mind or trying to give me time to remember my promise to myself?” I whispered, and slowly opened my eyes and found his directly above me. I continued to cradle his face for a brief moment, then let my hands slide to his neck and across his shoulders. “If you have no intention of giving me your heart, then don’t do this to mine. But my heart was yours even when you weren’t ready for it, so take it or let me—”
Deacon’s mouth crashed down onto mine, swallowing my shocked cry when he forced his thick length inside me.
Like no time had passed at all, that tight feeling in my stomach was back, and the heat felt like it might consume me as my body adjusted to his.
But, oh God, when he moved . . .
I never knew it could be like that. I never knew it could feel like it was not enough and too much, and like he was holding back—leaving me seconds from begging for more—while high-pitched moans kept escaping me from the intensity of it all, all at once.
Sex with Ben had been fast and to the point, and I’d thought at the time that it had been everything I could ever want. But he had never touched me. He’d never left my body feeling like it might burst if he didn’t continue touching me, and like it might fall apart if he didn’t stop.
This was perfection.
Deacon’s movements slowed, the unhurried roll of his hips brought him deeper and deeper inside.
That heat swirled and built until my body felt like it was strung so tightly I was sure I was going to shatter.
My breathing grew ragged and uneven, and one by one I pressed my fingers firmly against his shoulders and back, somehow knowing that I was going to need to hold on.
A short, broken huff was forced from my chest when he pushed in harder, and my grip tightened, eyes fluttered shut, and head fell back onto the bed. “Deacon,” I breathed, my voice barely making a sound. “Deac—” My arms and legs locked up and my fingers dug into his skin just as my body began vibrating.
“That’s it,” he breathed against my neck, and slid himself into me again and again. “That’s it, Charlie, let go.”
Before I could grasp his demand, he pulled all the way out then slammed back into me, and my body felt like it went up in flames.
A warm shiver shot down my spine and that white-hot heat shot through my veins. The vibrating turned into trembling and then shaking as warm shivers continued to torment my body.
Deacon hissed and bit down on my collarbone to muffle his sudden curse. His body felt rigid against mine for only a moment before his hips moved harder and faster than before, then harder still.
Each movement from him prolonged what was happening inside me, and I both loved and hated it. I never wanted it to end, but I felt out of control and terrified by that.
A shudder rolled through Deacon’s back, and he groaned against my neck as his hips jerked against mine when he found his release inside me. His back shook from his exaggerated breaths, the muscles there rippled beneath the tips of my fingers as we both tried to find our way back to ourselves.
He lifted his head, and his eyes met and searched mine as he slowly rolled onto his side, taking me with him. “You okay?”
Exhausted, wanted him again, and never felt more alive, but “okay” would do. I nodded once, but wasn’t able to voice the response he needed. The way Deacon was looking at me was all I could focus on. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
