Page 24 of The Sweet Spot

The connection between us is more intense than anything I’ve ever imagined.

“You gonna come on my cock, Brynn?” he growls. Actually growls. And I moan incoherently as if his words were what I was waiting for, and my orgasm is ripped from my body.

Deacon’s lips capture mine, swallowing my screams as my entire body vibrates, and my walls clamp down on his cock. Tears leak from the corner of my eyes as warmth washes over me, and he fills me completely, coming with my name on his lips like a sacred prayer.

Breaking me in ways I never knew possible and may never recover from.

He holds me against him until a chill skirts down my skin.

“Shit, red. We don’t even have towels.”

I lift my face to his, unable to comprehend the look in his eyes.

It’s guilt. But why?

“Deacon—” I start before he cuts me off.

“Damn it. I shouldn’t have?—”

“Don’t you dare.” I place a gentle finger over his lips as he bends his knees and drops us both under the water. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

I ghost my lips over his. “A little water never hurt anyone.”

An incredibly sexy smile spreads over his handsome face. “Where the hell have you been all my life?”

He cups my face, and I lean my cheek into his hand. “Right here, waiting for you to notice me.”

Deacon laughs and presses his lips to my forehead. “Pretty sure you’ve never gone for lack of notice, Brynlee.”

I close my eyes and soak it all in.

The moon . . . The stars . . . The night . . . The man.

Sometime after the sun has already risen, I lay naked and splayed across Deacon’s chest, having traded in the lake for a king-sized bed with 1500 thread count sheets. Neither of us has slept a wink... again, and Deacon’s hand is making its hundredth pass up and down my spine when I rest my chin on his chest and tilt my face to his. “What are you going to do?”

“About what?” he murmurs in a rough, sleep-deprived voice, exhaustion catching up with both of us.

“Kennedy,” I answer softly and trace the tip of my finger over his pec. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what I can do, yet.” He looks over at the clock on the nightstand and groans. “I’m meeting with management at nine to sign my contract. I guess I’ll figure Isla out after that.”

“Oh yeah?” I drag out and press my lips to his chest. “I’ll be there with Gracie tomorrow.”

“Gracie?” he asks as he flips me over to my back and presses his lips to my collarbone.

I hold his face in my hands and enjoy the calm before the storm. “Grace Sinclair. She’s one of my best friends. We all lived together in college and for a while after college. Gracie is a ballerina in London, but she’s hurt, and she’s home, staying with me while I help her rehab.”

Deacon kisses his way down my chest and over my stomach, then stops and stares when my body revolts from the lack of food I had yesterday, growling so loudly, he’s probably scared an alien is about to break free.

“Oh my God.” I bury my face in my hands, and Deacon hops up from the bed. “What are you doing?” I ask, mortified.

“Ordering breakfast. I plan to keep you busy for at least another hour, so you’re going to need some carbs. Waffles sound good?”

He looks at me as he lifts the phone, and I nod, not used to being taken care of.

I tend to be the caretaker.

“Yes, this is Deacon Kane in 210. I’d like to order Belgium waffles with whipped cream.” He looks at me as he stands there, naked and oh, so impressive. “We’re going to need extra whipped cream. And can you bring a plate of cherries and a bowl of oatmeal with a banana.” He covers the phone with his hand. “Anything else?”

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