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“Fuck you.” I jerked free from his grasp and whirled to face him. “Just because you can’t figure out who and what you want doesn’t mean I’m going to just let someone incredible walk away.”
Shit. What did I just say?
The truth.
The way Deacon watched me, his expression blank except for his clenched jaw, said he’d heard it too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t.” I cut off my laugh and shook my head. “And I’m not in the mood to explain it to you.” I needed to figure out what was going on with Brooke. Get her back. “I’m out.” I strode toward the back door.
Deacon caught up with me in the doorway that separated the main shop from the back room and grabbed my wrist.
I whirled, slammed my palm against his chest, and pressed him to the doorframe. “Don’t.” I bit off the word.
He gripped my arm with both hands, locking us both in place. Heat and frustration flowed between us in a potent closed circuit that threatened to fry my thoughts. “I’m definitely not letting you leave while you’re like this,” Deacon said.
“Why not?” This time I didn’t try to pull away. I pressed in closer until we were nose-to-nose.
“Because if you go over there in this mood, you’ll make things worse.”
“Or maybe it’s because you can’t stand this. You can’t stand being forced to look at what you could’ve had but gave up. You can’t stand thinking about how emotionally stunted you are when it comes to love. You can’t stand that you could’ve had her—me—and you don’t.”
Wait. What? This had never been about Deacon and me.
I was angry enough I couldn’t think about it. He’d had Brooke and gave her up, and now he wanted me to do the same and I wasn’t going to.
“What do you want from me?” Deacon growled.
“I want you to admit Brooke is more than just a fuck. ThatIam.” With the words out there, they were real. My breath came in jagged pants and I held his gaze, refusing to look away.
Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t know I meant that.
Deacon wasn’t answering. He was just watching me with the same kind of shock I felt.
Fuck it. I gripped his shirt tightly in my fist, finished closing the distance between us, and crushed my mouth to his.
He kissed back hard enough our teeth clashed. Our tongues fought. His grunts mixed with mine.
It was the middle of the day, and while we weren’t exactly in front of the windows, we weren’t hidden from sight either.
But the doors were locked—it wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in on us, and if they caught a glimpse from outside, they were welcome to watch.
I worked my hands down the front of Deacon’s shirt, ripping off as many buttons as I managed to undo in my desperation. Shoving the clothing off his shoulders left red burn marks on his skin and I followed the path with hard bites that left visible marks along his chest and shoulders.
His grunts fueled the flames raging inside me, and when he pulled my T-shirt up, I only broke away long enough to let him yank it over my head. The sound of tearing fabric added to the need flooding my veins.
I scraped my teeth over his skin and kept him pinned to the wall. He dropped his hand to grip my cock through my jeans, the friction building until I ached from the way he stroked me.
Frustration and anger and lust churned inside me until my brain didn’t work and all I could think about was the man I was knotted up with. His hard body pressing into mine, the taste of his skin, of his kisses, and bringing him to his knees. Not physically. Not this time. But I wanted him to surrender to the truth.
My hips worked on their own, thrusting against the air, and shoving me into his touch.
I dragged his zipper down, and he grunted when I wrapped my fingers around his bare shaft.
I lost myself in jerking him, in the way his fingers dug into me through denim. It was pleasure and agony in a perfectly chaotic blend, until pleasure swelled to a crescendo inside me.
Deacon slammed hard against my fist, fucking as much as I was beating, and his entire body tensed. Need tightened in my balls, but I was focused on him.
When he came, it was with a loud cry, covering my hand with cum as he shuddered under my touch. His release granted me a strange satisfaction, and he never loosened his grip on me. I fucked the air. His hand. I hovered so near the edge of climax, there was no turning back.
