Page 35 of All My Broken Dreams

Her lower belly shivered pleasurably. Robbie stared at his hands that were wrapped around the cup. Long fingers, square and strong.

“I’m not sleepy, but it would be nice to lie down.”

They moved through the room, getting the bedding from the drawer, rinsing their mugs in the sink, and brushing their teeth in the 1920s bathroom like two strangers forced to share a sleeping berth on a train.

They didn’t speak to each other, that’s what Robbie found the strangest. She didn’t know what he was thinking. What he wanted–if he wanted anything from her.

It wasn’t until she needed something to wear to bed that she saw Deacon’s desire fully and completely written on his face.

“I have nothing to sleep in,” she said. “Do you have a shirt I can wear? Even a tee-shirt would do.”

He lost color, ducked his head and went to the wardrobe. She watched him paw through the clothes on hangers before pulling a white silk shirt from the closet and holding it up.

“I can’t,” she protested. “This is too nice to sleep in.”

“I’ve never worn it and I never will. You might as well get some use out of it. My father left it to me. He thought he’d be around to see me wear it when I was catechised into Fuil Bratach.”

“You kept it all these years,” she said softly, fingering the silk.

“It’s yours now. I doubt it would fit me anymore.”

Robbie slid the imported silk over her naked body, aroused by the caress against her skin. The silk shirt covered her decently, skimming the tops of her thighs. She took a moment to clean her face and brush her hair before stepping out of the bathroom. The white billowing silk was as fine and translucent as a parachute. It floated and clung to her curves in turn.

She stepped out of the bathroom and Deacon’s eyes fixed on her, hot and hungry.

At first she didn’t know why. Then she realized.

Standing in the bathroom doorway, backlit by the light over the mirror, her nude body was visible through the sheer silk.

Her flesh scalded when she met his eyes. He was older than she was, not by much, but suddenly she felt very inexperienced compared to Deacon and the years he had on her.

Her physical response to him was like a teenager. Every erotic sensation she had read about but never experienced rushed through her, robbing her of breath.

“It looks well on you.”

His voice penetrated her core and her inner thighs quivered.

“Thanks. I hope you don’t regret loaning it to me. You might need it some time in the future.”

“No,” he said shortly. “I’m done with all of that. Which side of the bed do you want?”

He wasn’t undressed, not completely. Deacon was wearing a tee-shirt and a pair of flannel boxers and he filled both garments to a heart-stopping, pussy-throbbing size.

She never thought like that about a guy before. Never. Staring at his dick thickening under the boxers, knowing that she was the cause was erotic. Robbie was completely unprepared to see Deacon Wake like that.

Hard. Huge.

Her lips began to vibrate with either cold or terror, she didn’t know. Her nipples puckered to points under the shirt.

“I’ll take the same side I had last time.”

Deacon nodded and slipped under the duvet on his side. Robbie followed, attempting to crawl under the sheet without pushing up the silk shirt. It couldn’t be done. Her legs and bum were bare.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

He was lying on his back with one arm crooked under his head. The other rested against his broad chest.

“I will be,” Robbie replied, trying to sound as casual as he looked.

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