The boy avoided my eyes as he nodded my way but gave Deacon a handshake.
Both girls stopped and gave me a hug, Annabelle whispering in my ear, “You’re cool, Cassidy. And we want you to know we’re cool. Thanks to you,” before she let me go quickly, didn’t let me say anything, and hurried to the SUV.
The father shook Deacon’s hand and gave me a chin dip before he walked stiffly to his truck.
We watched them do this before Deacon pulled me gently out of the door and closed it.
I looked up at him, striking a trip to Vista Real off my to-do list and glad for it. Not because it wasn’t exactly close, but because I could feel settled that those two girls were being looked after.
So, with my afternoon (kind of) free, when I caught his eyes, I asked, “Do you like turkey?”
He stared down at me, blank, giving me nothing.
For only a beat.
Then he gave me everything.
He did this by slowly, amazingly, magnificently smiling. His gorgeous lips turning up, deep grooves pressing into the sides of his mouth and radiating out the sides of his glorious, spiky-lashed, tawny eyes.
Taking that in, I was blinded by the beauty. But I didn’t care.
Not even a little bit.
It was insane, foolish, but I knew down to my bones I would have been happy if the last vision I had before all went dark was Deacon Whoever smiling at me.
Chapter Six
That’s Where It’s At
Eyes locked to mine, Deacon moved inside me, slow, sweet, gentle stroking.
Making love to me.
Amazing.
He pulled out, shifted his hips, glided back in and that felt so good, my lips parted.
He watched them part and made a low noise. I felt it rumble through his chest even as I heard it and I knew he saw my reaction.
And liked it.
And I liked that.
He pulled out, shifted his hips, and stroked in.
My nails curled into the skin of his back.
He dropped his lips to mine.
Then he kept at me, stroking slow and sweet, his eyes to mine, making love to me silently, beautifully. The way he did it, I didn’t need words, just his eyes, his body, our connection.
His hand slid from my hip, up, in between us, and curled around my breast where he rolled his thumb slow and tender at my nipple.
Yes, his hands could be gentle. And yes, again I was beside myself with glee (this time, another variety).
I wrapped my legs around his ass and whispered, “Faster, Deacon.”
He went faster but no less gentle. No less sweet.
I roamed his back with my hands, held him tight with my legs, and tipped up my hips to get more of him, gently panting against his lips.
He went faster.
“Yes,” I breathed, clutching him harder with my legs, one hand gliding up his back and into his hair.
He slid his tongue out and tasted my lips.
I tried to capture it in my mouth but he took it away.
“Deacon.” His name came out as a plea.
He made no reply. Just brushed my nose with his before he buried his face in my neck and went faster, harder, driving deep, his breathing going uneven, the sound and feel of it further tipping my excitement, thrilling through me.
I’d loved what he’d been giving me before but I needed what he was giving me now. So much, I turned my head and my gentle pants became ragged breaths rasping against the skin of his neck. My hand stopped roaming so I could curve my arm around him and hold on as my fingers in his hair fisted, holding him to me.
His hand suddenly left my breast, smoothing down my skin, and then his thumb was at my clit as he started thrusting harder, faster, the power taking me with it, the bed shuddering beneath us.
He lifted his head and I saw what I’d missed last night. Not blank. No mask. He was giving it all to me. His face dark, his eyes heated, his focus entirely on me, what he was taking, what he was giving, what I was giving, how he felt about it, all written in his expression.
“Fuck, I’m fuckin’ beauty,” he growled.
Oh God, I liked that.
“Deacon.”
He rammed in, stayed in, and ground in as his thumb at my clit put on pressure.
So freaking amazing.
“Buried inside beauty,” he grunted.
“Baby.”
I got the word out then he took my mouth in a rough, wet kiss and I took his cock driving fast, hard, and deep.
He gave it to me before he took it, and he might have taken it hard, but what he gave me was sweet.
After we came down he astonished me by nuzzling me, stroking me.
Loving me.
Deacon. This new man I’d known for years was nuzzling me. Stroking me.
Loving me.
I had no choice but to return the favor.
It wasn’t a hardship.
It was early evening. I’d made Deacon and I a sandwich, and after we’d eaten them, while he moved his stuff from cabin eleven to my place at my request, I went down to cabin six to get the comforters and tell Milagros cabin eleven needed cleaned and that I needed her to stop by and check in on things tomorrow while I was away for a few hours. I also told her I had something going so I couldn’t have a cup of coffee with her when she was done.
I didn’t tell her about Deacon. Mostly because there wasn’t yet anything to say. But also because I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to tell her about Deacon.
I had to admit, this troubled me, but not enough to deter me from the choice I’d made.
We were changed. That was all I needed.
For now.
We’d find out how it was going to go.
Luckily, I often had something going so Milagros didn’t blink that I couldn’t have a cup of coffee. She also didn’t mind popping by tomorrow to make sure all was well at Glacier Lily while Deacon and I went to put a deposit down on a puppy.
I dealt with the laundry and when I got back, Deacon told me he had something to deal with. He didn’t tell me what. He also didn’t tell me that whatever it was required his complete attention, as in, his presence. I found that out after he cupped my jaw and told me he had something to deal with and then he walked out of my house.
He came back for dinner, something I had ready in hopes he’d be back.
We ate it with not a lot of muss and fuss, time taken, or conversation.
He helped me do the dishes just like he had at Christmas (this being surprising, then and now, but I’d had a lot of surprises that day so I rolled with it).
Then he took my hand again and led me upstairs.
Which brought me to now, lying naked in my bed with a naked Deacon on top of me, still inside me, nuzzling me and stroking me after sex.
He was mellow. I was mellow. The decision was made by the both of us.
We were beginning.
Thus I decided it was time to take a chance.
So I asked, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
His answer seared through me in a happy way, getting it and the ease with which in came.
He lifted his head and looked down at me. “You?”
“Thirty.”
He grinned.
I saw it and stilled.
Completely.
Taking in his magnificence, I wondered how I ever could have been frightened of this man.
“Just a baby,” he said softly.
“No, I’m not,” I disagreed.
“Yeah, you are,” he disagreed with me.
“You’re barely older than me.”
He lifted a hand, framed the side of my face, and started stroking my cheekbone with his thumb, but he made no reply.
I slid a hand up his chest, encountering dips and swells, firm and supple, and the tickle of the sprinkling of dark hair along his pectorals that was scattered to perfection.
“What’s your last name?” I asked quietly.
“Deacon.?
??
I tipped my head to the side. “What’s your first?”
“Deacon.”
I stared. “Your parents named you Deacon Deacon?”
That got me the gift of another grin but this one didn’t reach his eyes.
“No, Cassidy. Was a man. Not that man anymore. Now I’m just Deacon.”
That didn’t make sense, or not any good sense.
Just bad.
“Did your parents give you the name Deacon one way or another?”
“Yes.”
“So that’s you.”
“Yep.”
“And always has been, in a way,” I pressed and he dipped his face closer to mine.
“No, baby. The man I am is not the man I was.”
This confused me.
“I don’t get it.”
He didn’t give it to me. His thumb swept to my mouth and he glided it across my lower lip then he pulled out but rolled, taking us both to a new position, him on his back, me on top.
It seemed he was going to say something but before he did, he gathered my hair away from either side of my face and I watched, my insides melting, as he lost track of what he was doing when he became fascinated with my hair, looking at it, feeling it.
I knew by the way he did it that he’d wanted that. He’d wanted this.
He’d wanted me.
For a long, long time.
That made me happy. Happy enough not to push about his name and instead give him his moment with my hair and make it a long one.
Then I decided to take my own moment and I slid a hand up his chest to his neck so I could glide the tips of my fingers along his jaw, letting the stubble scrape my skin.
I watched my hand then I slid my eyes to his to see him watching me.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” I whispered.
He didn’t reply but this time he didn’t have to. The warmth in his eyes that warmed me said all he needed to say.
“Are you gonna stay?” I asked.
“For two more days.”
This did not make me happy.
My eyes went to the pillow by his head and I stopped stroking his jaw.
My hair was released, falling down, curtaining our faces, and this happened so Deacon could wrap his arms around me.
I looked again to him.
“I’ll be back,” he said quietly.
“When?”
“Got a job. I do the job, I’ll be back.”
My eyes drifted away again but came back when one of his arms gave me a squeeze and his other hand moved up and again pulled one side of my hair away from my face.
Then he kept talking.
“Not in three months, not in eight. When the job is done. Could be a few days, a few weeks, maybe a month. But when it’s done, I’ll be back.”
That was better news so I gave him a small smile.
His arm around me shifted down so he could trace random patterns on the skin just above my hip.
That felt heavenly.
Even so, inside, I felt weird.
Right and wrong. Comfortable. Sated.
And awkward.
“I don’t know what I can ask,” I blurted. “What to say. What to do.”
He bunched my hair at the back of my neck. “Do you know what to feel?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Go with that, Cassie.”
Cassie.
My family called me that, some friends back home. I liked it.
It felt disloyal but I never liked it more than the two times it came from Deacon.
Yes, I absolutely knew what to feel.
“You don’t seem to feel weird about what’s happening,” I observed.
“I’m not ’cause I’m not takin’ the risk. You are.”
“Are you a risk?” I asked cautiously.
His eyes gentled and his hand splayed flat on my hip as he chided softly, “Baby, you gotta quit askin’ questions you know the answer to.”
Baby.
I didn’t like that better than Cassie, but it worked.
Without a word, he rolled me to my back, over me, and let me go before he rolled out of bed on the side closest to the bathroom.
I pulled the sheet over me as I watched him go, but, to give him privacy, I stopped watching when he went in and I could see him because he didn’t close the door.
He was getting rid of the condom he’d slid on before coming inside, something he hadn’t slid on last night.
I was on the Pill, so that was not a concern.
Him having thirty-eight women was.
I heard the toilet flush, the tap go on and off, and not long later, he was back to me. On his side, elbow in the pillow, head in hand, he ran his other hand down my body, taking the sheet with him, his eyes watching it go, exposing me.
I felt his gaze like a touch on my skin, something I enjoyed immensely. But as much as I liked it and was glad we had a light on and I could see all of him (and there was a lot, and all of it was as beautiful as the promise that it would be), I wasn’t all that fired up with him seeing all of me when he didn’t have me panting.
Therefore, I rolled into him, pressing close, wrapping an arm around him, and nuzzling my face in his chest.
He trailed a hand down my back and again started tracing random patterns, but this time on the skin of my ass.
That felt better, enough that I shivered.
“Great ass,” he muttered like he was talking to himself. “Six years, saw it covered in shorts, jeans. Like it best like this.”
He was a guy. He would.
Then again, I was a girl and I shared this sentiment about him.
“Ditto with you,” I told his chest.
He fell to his back so he could wrap his arms around me, pull me up his chest, and get my eyes.
His were smiling.
And again, all was right in the world.
“Six years, never saw you smile,” I told him.
It was the wrong thing to say seeing as the smile died.
“Deacon?”
“Not easy, fightin’ your pull. Wantin’ to be right here. Knowin’ I was no good for you. Prayin’ you’d get a man so when I’d come back I’d have a reason to stay away.”
His words, words I liked at the same time not so much, made me slide a hand up his chest, his neck, and partly into his overlong hair where I played with the ends.
“Do you smile when you’re not here?”
“No.”
I knew it. I’d sensed it the moment I’d laid eyes on him. But the weight of that as a reality settled on me, making my head dip closer to his like I couldn’t hold it up anymore.
“So out there, you’re not happy?” I asked.
“No, Cassie.”
I held his eyes.
“Ever?” I pressed.
He didn’t reply but he didn’t need to. The look in his eyes wasn’t bleak but there was a ghost of that he let me see.
So I asked the big question. “Are you gonna let me make you happy?”
His hand came to the side of my face as his arm pulled me back down his chest in order that he could tuck my cheek to the base of his throat. He left his hand there when he got me there.
But he did all this again not answering me.
I didn’t know if this was to avoid nonverbal communication, to hide.
But it was important so I couldn’t let it slide.
“You didn’t answer me,” I stated, my question aimed at his shoulder.
“Woman, you’re naked on top of me in your bed. I just had you in this bed. This meaning I am not in cabin eleven. A place for six years that was a torture chamber but I kept comin’ back because I couldn’t stay away. Now, tell me, how’re you gonna make me happy when you already accomplished that feat?”
God.
He just gave that to me. Straight up, right out in the open, he gave me that beauty.
I closed my eyes and snuggled deeper, asking, “Okay, are you gonna let me make you more happ
y?”
“You wanna take on that challenge, not me gonna stop you.”
I opened my eyes and grinned.
He started playing with my hair right behind my ear. That felt nice too, sending a thrill from my ear over my scalp.
I would have preferred to just lie there, held close, letting Deacon thrill me with barely a touch, but I drew in a big breath and decided to get the ground rules out of the way.
“You’re John Priest when you’re here but not in this house.” It was a statement that was also a guess.
His fingers stopped playing and wrapped around the side of my neck, his thumb stroking my jaw, and he confirmed, “I’m John Priest when I’m with you and not in this house.”
“Okay,” I whispered and he gave my neck a squeeze.
“You gonna be able to remember that?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
His thumb stopped stroking and pressed in at the hinge of my jaw. “It’s important, Cassie.”
“I’ll remember,” I whispered, feeling the stone settle in my belly, but doing it being me.
That was, hoping one day he’d help me work it out so it didn’t weigh there, dragging me down, starving me.
I decided to move on.
“You didn’t use a condom last night, Deacon.”
“I know, baby. Things got outta hand. You on the Pill?”
“Yeah. And I’ve been careful. But you’ve had experience so we’ll have to be better about that.”
“Don’t worry about me ungloved. Haven’t fucked anyone for seven years.”
I felt my lips part and my eyes blink.
Twice.
Rapidly.
Then I whispered, “Seriously?”
“Yep,” he said bluntly, like badasses confessed to the new women in their lives every day that they’d been celibate for years when I was stunned badasses could actually go for years without having sex.
I lifted my head to look at him and when I did, he tipped his chin down to catch my gaze.
“You haven’t had sex in seven years?” That was uttered incredulously, as, of course, it would be.
“Fuckin’ you on the table was hot but I came fast. Man gets it regular, he does not come that fast, even as hot as that was.”
I didn’t have that much experience but I figured this was true.
“Might not go to the doctor regularly,” he continued. “But back then I knew I was clean and you can’t catch that shit airborne.”