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I was too busy chasing the lines of his shoulders and the muscles in his back to miss the shirt that had kept me from this exciting new layer of touching.
Breaths came hard and fast. Adrenaline raced through my pulse. There was something especially exhilarating about kissing a half-dressed man while I was fully clothed.
Control was tipping back in my favor. That power made me bold.
I started pushing Deacon back. He resisted at first. A fight for dominance ensued, echoed in the hardness of our lips and the rocking of our bodies.
Impatient, I grasped both his strong shoulders and shoved, chasing his mouth when the movement broke us apart. Pulling back, I pointed to his legs and then to the hammock.
Deacon flashed me a slow masculine grin when our eyes caught.
He got it.
“I don’t usually do this,” I explained breathlessly, finding the silence pulsing between us as he got into position turning awkward. “But just once…”
He ran his hands up my arm, lying flat on his back while I straddled his waist, my hands bracing his pecs. “Or more than once. It’s a long night.”
A flush seared my cheeks. “Don’t throw me over the balcony by mistake.”
“I’ve got you, Angel.” He caressed my cheek.
I believed him.
Everything was throbbing and yearning and crazy, but I put my feet on those words and hoped they were a strong foundation. Or at least, stronger than the foundation of the hammock.
The netting swung left and right.
Annoyed by the weight of the man and the woman hungrily undressing, kissing and nuzzling between its folds, it cracked.
We heard the snap of the wooden stands seconds before we plummeted. Not fifteen feet to the ground, thankfully, but Deacon landed on the deck with a hard smack.
I yelped in pain as the windfall knocked my chin into his chest. He slapped his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, but it was too late. The light in the living room flipped on.
Footsteps thudded in the distance.
A large shadow appeared at the balcony door.
Deacon’s fingers tangled in the hammock—now just a sad little spread of netting on the ground—and curled it over my body.
I squeezed my eyes shut, digging my hands into the band of his boxers and biting down hard on my bottom lip. The fall had smacked me back into my right mind and I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly as if seeing my surroundings for the first time.
Deacon lay beneath me, his arms bulging as he scooped us in. He gritted his teeth. A vein in his temple bulged.
He was in pain.
I wanted to ask if he was okay, but Humphries was drawing the balcony door open. If he took two steps onto the deck, he’d see us.
My heart beat against his chest.
My fingers slipped against the sweat on Deacon’s abdomen.
Shame stole over me, a cloak much thicker than the hammock.
A floorboard creaked.
One step.
God, I know what I was about to do is against your law, but if you could help me out this once, I promise I’ll never do it again.
