Page 65 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

Instead, he stayed still, Jessa’s heart beating steady against his, sweat cooling between them, and chose to etch the moment into memory.

Whatever came next, this was real.

Chapter Sixteen

It was close to eight by the time Deacon and Jessa finally drifted back into the kitchen. An hour had slipped past without either of them noticing, the kind of time loss that came from great sex that’d left her body slack. And apparently hungry.

She was starving.

Deacon moved around the kitchen with quiet efficiency, pulling leftovers from the fridge. Cold roasted chicken. A container of mashed potatoes. A bag of salad greens dumped into a bowl with olive oil and vinegar. Nothing fancy, but it smelled like heaven.

She leaned against the counter and watched him, the hum of heat and need still buzzing low in her body. It hadn’t disappeared just because reality had elbowed its way back in. If anything, it had settled in deeper, warm and restless.

Part of her wished it was just sex between them.

Just the heat. Just the familiar burn and release. Something uncomplicated she could fall into without thinking too hard.

But she knew better.

She took a plate when he handed it to her and sat at the small table, forcing herself to eat. Hunger helped. Gave her something physical to focus on besides everything clawing at her chest.

When this was over, she was going to have to deal with it. With him. With what still lived between them.

She paused mid-bite and let out a slow breath. There was no sorting left to do. Not really. She already knew the truth.

She was in love with Deacon.

Had been for years, and that wasn’t going away.

That realization didn’t settle anything. It didn’t simplify a damn thing. It only made the stakes higher and the choices harder. She swallowed and kept eating, pushing the thought aside for now. There would be time to face it later.

Just not tonight.

Deacon caught her staring into space and tilted his head. “You’re thinking too much,” he said.

She huffed a quiet laugh. “That obvious?”

He leaned in closer, slipped a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. The look in his eyes gentled, heat and concern tangled together. He leaned in, brushing a kiss against her mouth that was slow and sweet, nothing demanding. Just enough to steady her.

Her pulse jumped anyway.

Then his phone rang.

Of course it did. In hindsight, it surprised her that they’d managed to get through the past hour without an interruption.

“It’s Noah,” he let her know after glancing at the screen.

Deacon closed his eyes for a beat before answering. She watched his expression shift as he listened, the tenderness he’d just shown her now tightening into focus. He was the cop again.

“Say that again,” Deacon said. A pause, and he got to his feet.

Her stomach knotted, and she stood, too. Ready for, well, whatever.

“Got it,” he said finally. “That’s enough. I’m moving on it.”

He ended the call and looked at her. “Noah’s team of techs found a connection between Shade and one of the shooters, Trent Haskins.”

The relief came. She’d been bracing for bad news and was glad that it wasn’t. “What kind of connection?” she asked.