Page 7 of Sweet Beloved

“Deacon,” she whispers, barely audible.

I look up, resting my chin on the rise above her pussy. “Sweetheart?”

She hesitates, chewing her lip. I move up her body, cradling her face in my palm.

“I love you.” It comes out on a little breath.

Our mouths meet, my hand sliding down to lay between her breasts. Beneath my palm, her heart flutters. I breathe her in, taste her lips. We break apart slowly, and I tell her I love her back, my words skimming her skin beneath her ear.

“Now treat me like your whore,” she breathes.

I smile, withdrawing to sit up on my knees. “That, I can do.”

CHAPTER FOUR

FREYA

I’m a little sore at work the next day, but it’s a Monday and we’re slow, so I spend most of my time on something easy—cutting dough and freezing it. Most days, I’m at the café alone. Today, though, Tracy texted me she’s coming in to do some paperwork. She’s had some problems after hip surgery, so I’ve been running the business for the last few years, other than the financial side of things.

A few customers come and go, the usual for an early weekday morning. Around noon, the door pushes open, and Slate walks through, taking off his hat. He’s dusty, like he was out working.

“Hey, Mom. Can I get a coffee?” he says, leaning on the counter. He’s got a dirty line across his forehead where his hat sat.

“Hot?”

“Yeah, black,” he says, grabbing a napkin and dragging it over his face. “Thanks.”

I fill a paper cup and pop the lid on, sliding it over. “You want anything to eat?”

He glances over the pastry cases. “Yeah, if you’ve got any leftovers.”

“Oh, Tracy doesn’t care what you take,” I say, taking a slice of apple-nut cake out and handing it to him. No plate—he’ll eat it in two bites. “What were you out doing today?”

He inhales the cake, chewing and swallowing with difficulty. “Cash and I went down to the Knifley auction, bought a head of shorthorn. We’ve got them going up to Sovereign Mountain this afternoon.”

I nod, leaning on the counter. “I’ll leave you a plate in the microwave.”

“Thanks, but I should be able to make it to dinner,” he says, giving me a soft look. It’s wild how much he’s turning out to be just a slightly more angular version of his father.

“I saw you talking to your dad outside last night,” I say casually, folding a tea towel to give myself something to do with my hands. I turn my back, putting it up on the shelf, and face him. “What were you two talking about?”

He fits his hat on his head. “Nothing.”

I sigh. “Alright, I get it. Just don’t always take your dad’s advice when it comes to women.”

He works his jaw, like he’s thinking. “Why? You two seem pretty happy.”

“You know he stalked me, right?”

Slate’s brows shoot up.

“I mean, it worked out. And I would have gone with him anyway,” I say, backtracking and waving a hand. “But still, he orchestrated our meeting and maybe did a little bit of kidnapping. I will say...that wasn’t without cause.”

“What the fuck?”

“Honey, watch your language.”

“Dad said you guys met in a bar,” he says.

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