Unfinished Hero 04 Deacon (13 page)

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
happy?”

“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.