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Deacon was too intense, too skilled, too… much for me to handle.
Control? Ha.
I lost all command of my body, my nerves, my blood cells.
Every inch of me melted at the simple trace of his hands on my back. My T-shirt was cotton, but his fingers rippled against it like silk. Butter. The fabric hid his callouses and softened his firm hand.
More.
I couldn’t get enough.
But he was too far away. We both sensed it.
I pulled back, not to end the kiss but to find a new position where I was closer to him, where he wasn’t craning his neck and leaning over my knees to get to me.
Deacon grunted. Pressed a hard, hungry kiss to my lips.
A punishment.
I wasn’t to do anything but surrender.
Trusting he would find a solution, I continued to kiss him and didn’t bother opening my eyes when I felt him move and the hammock swing dangerously close to the railing.
Deacon’s lips shifted, coming at me from the side instead of the front. I pried my eyelids apart and saw him sitting beside me. His weight caused the hammock to go lopsided. Gravity thrust me closer until it was hip against hip.
Thigh against thigh.
We were connected physically, but it felt… deeper than that.
Desperation made me frantic. The more he touched, the more I wanted to feel him. The more we kissed, the more oxygen pumped through my lungs.
I was living in the moment, but I was also anticipating the end, when I’d have to pull away. It made the present that much sweeter, that much crueler. Made me hold him closer.
Deacon’s mouth grazed my cheek, pulling shivers from my body. My fingers wandered to his leg. Strong and sturdy. Like a tree trunk. I ran a nail down his thigh, mimicking the path he’d traced on mine in his office.
Dangerous.
Code Red.
I didn’t know this man.
I wasn’t this kind of girl.
My father raised me to be modest, to be smart, to stay away from hot, brooding men who reeked of secrets and mystery. The abandon Deacon summoned from me, it was exactly what Dad had warned me against.
But what was wrong and what was right blurred as Deacon’s mouth captured mine again.
The still voice in my head dissipated, carried away on the waves of the sea, burrowing deep into the sand. Heat seared every inch of me. My hands roved his strong shoulders and slid down to his chest where my nail hit a button.
With a whisk of my wrist, that button was freed. The wind battered Deacon’s open collar.
I pulled back.
Popped another button.
Kissed him in reward, in excitement.
To my surprise, Deacon ripped the shirt off, disrupting my process. I frowned in disappointment, but that frown was soon knocked away when he hungrily attacked my lips.
