Page 34 of Deacon

I’m burning. I want to rake my nails down his chest, to rip his clothes off. His eyes are feverish as he grips my wrist, dragging my hand from his chest to his groin.

I gasp as he presses my palm to the front of his pants.

I can feel him under the fabric. Big, thick. Instinctively, I try to wrap my hand around it through the front of his work pants. I can’t, but I can feel he’s bigger than I can hold properly. His heartbeat thumps beneath my palm.

I shudder but don’t let go. Flushed, I drag my gaze over his big body. It’s clear now. He’s going to fuck me. It’s going to hurt.

“Take me upstairs,” I gasp, before I can lose my nerve.

I don’t have to ask him twice. He picks me up in his arms and carries me with quick strides up the walkway and through the front door. His boot kicks the door shut and the bar falls. Then, we’re going up the stairs, the dark wood ceiling circling overhead. My arms wrap around his neck.

He smells so good, so real, like a man—sweat, skin, soap.

At the end of the hall, he elbows the door open. I turn my head, taking everything in.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the northern lights ripple in shades of pink and green. The outline of the mountains runs like ink through them.

He lets me fall onto the bed. It’s soft flannel, and everything smells like him. Then, his big body is against mine. It’s glorious, but I need more.

I’ve been so sad for so long. Tonight, I’m free.

His mouth works its way down my neck. Hot, slow. His hips work mindlessly against my leg. His body is so big, I don’t know how this is going to work.

That doesn’t matter, it turns out. He’s already shifting me up the bed and sliding between my thighs. My flannel shirt hitches up. A groan sounds in his chest as he kisses over my mouth, biting my lower lip and chin.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice low and raspy.

My mouth trembles, wanting to say his name. It feels too personal, but there’s nothing impersonal about the way he’s grinding his hips against my leg.

“Deacon,” I whisper, head back.

The word rises to the ceiling, smoke in the wind. That wind is nothing in comparison to the mountain shifting as his body moves against mine. His hands unfasten the flannel covering my breasts, pushing it aside to bare them.

My nipples prickle, going hard.

There’s a second where he doesn’t react. Then, his dark eyes glint and his mouth parts. Reverently, he cups my left breast, though there’s more than he can hold.

I’m not lonely. No, I’m moored to his shoreline.

He bends and kisses between my breasts. My spine arches. He moves an inch lower and kisses me again. God, I can’t bite back my whimpers. His mouth is soft, passionate. Gentle. I didn’t know it was possible for a man to be this gentle.

He goes lower. Down over my naval. Down to—

Everything comes to a halt. I want to be fucked, but the thought of letting him pleasure me fills me with familiar shame. No, I need this to be about him. I’m not ready to be in the spotlight. Just the thought triggers that voice in my head Aiden planted there.

Whore.

“I need to taste you,” he says, voice thick with a guttural rasp.

I shake my head. “That’s not what I need now. Please.”

He glances up, dark gaze locking on mine. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

My hips roll up against his groin. One hand grips my thigh, right above my knee, and drags it up. Calluses are rough on my skin. My eyelids flutter when he takes the edge of my panties and pulls them down. They tangle on my right ankle, and I give a frustrated kick to get them free.

Cool air grazes my aching pussy.

He’s still wearing his shirt and pants. His boots must have ended up on the floor. My thighs spread wide as he pushes his knee up and reaches down between our bodies.

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