Page 21 of Forever My Soldier

The worst part about what I could see when I looked in his eyes was that he wasn’t intending on letting me go anytime soon.

Chapter Eight

Deacon

If Jenna thoughtfor one second that I was going to leave this alone and not fight for her, then she was sorely mistaken, which was why I had a nice evening planned for the two of us and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

When Jenna opened the door, I could tell she was fighting the urge to smile at the sight of me, so I’d smile for the both of us. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Her cheeks flushed with heat at my question, but her expression remained unchanged. “It’s late, Deke.”

I leaned in, our mouths nearly brushing each other, but instead brought my mouth to her ear and whispered, “Come on, it could be fun.”

She sighed and backed up. “That’s what you said this morning when you took me to the beach.”

“I haven’t lied to you yet, have I, princess?” I narrowed my eyes, trying to read her expression, but could only see the tortured look of someone trying so hard to fight the desire she was feeling inside. I wished she’d give in to how she was feeling, but knew that wasn’t going to happen easily. Jenna was as stubborn as they came, but I could be a patient man.

She walked away from the door and headed toward her kitchen. I followed, closing the door behind us.

“I wish I could have fun,” she began, “but I have obligations. I have to be a grown up, Deke.” She sunk her hands in a sink full of dishes, pots, and pans soaking in soapy water.

How long had she not been a grown up for, I wondered. “Does being a grown up mean you can’t use a dishwasher?”

“It’s not working,” she confessed. Clearly thankful for the excuse to avoid being with me, she sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Looks like whatever you had planned for us is going to have to wait.”

She bent over the counter to grab her glass of red wine and I cornered her there as she took a sip from it. I left her just enough room to turn around in my arms, my hands on either side of her on the counter, closing her in. She gasped as I pressed my body against hers, pinning her to the counter.

Jenna was still holding her glass off to the side, but nearly dropped it as she closed her eyes and pushed her hips into me.

I abruptly turned back like a grade-A asshole and left her standing there, wanting more. Hell, I wanted more, but I wasn’t going to give into it, not now. It would’ve been too easy to take her to bed. It would’ve been like last time, commitment-less. Next time I wanted commitment. I wanted to know this was going somewhere.

She wet her lips before walking around the counter and stumbling onto a nearby stool. I raised a brow, enjoying how I was torturing her in this moment. I liked seeing her this way. She was rattled and that was because she wanted me as badly as I wanted her. Not much had changed since I’d left.

She blinked and waved her glass around, clearly frustrated, searching for something to say, but coming up short.

I chuckled and decided to put her out of her misery. “Take a load off,” I commanded, turning around and opening the faucet. The clock readout suggested we had plenty of time, but I wasn’t about to waste it arguing over some dirty dishes. “I’ll do these, but when I’m done, you’re going to owe me.”

“Depends on what you have in mind,” she said, smirking.

“Princess, you may not want to know.” I looked over my shoulder and watched as she sipped her drink. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m going to be done with this crap before you can finish that thing off.”

I heard her chuckle. “If you say so, big boy.”

She had no idea, I mused. My body was still on alert from our earlier interaction. But there was no way I was going to let tonight’s lunar eclipse go without her seeing it, even if that meant forgetting my new desire to take her to her bedroom instead to please her ten ways from Sunday. I was playing the long-game here and had to remember that.

”How did the rest of your day go? Did you make your meeting?” I asked, changing the subject.

She nodded, but also groaned, which had me turning around. “I hate the phone,” she explained.

“What?”

“The meeting was fine, but after that I was stuck on the phone forever. I don’t like the phone, being on it I mean. I hate it. Despise it, really.”

“Are your clients really that bad?”A couple of utensils and a dish left. Not so bad. I was making good time.

She answered, “It’s not my clients that’s the problem. It was opposing counsel, witnesses, everyone else. If they’re not cocky, arrogant, sons of a bitches, then they are not the least bit interested in anything I have to say. Sometimes I wish I could just stick my hand through the phone, you know?”

I nodded, but really had no idea.

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