Page 31 of Deceive Me
“I never did get an answer this morning,” he reminded her.
Her grip on her ribs tightened. As he stopped, so close that breathing might actually bring their skin together, Deacon couldn’t help but look. The height difference gave him even more than a glimpse of her creamy skin, and damn. Elliot had a knockout pair of breasts. Were her nipples dark or rosy? From her coloring, he was betting on pink—and not just on her nipples.
“Deacon…”
He met her eyes. “What?”
“You can’t… This isn’t…” She shrugged, frowned. “I guess I thought you weren’t really…serious. About—”
“Why would I not be serious?”
She shrugged again. But she didn’t back away.
“Elliot.” Taking a chance, he tipped her chin up with a finger, both so he could look into her eyes and because he simply had to touch her or die trying. “Why would you think I wasn’t serious? You’re a beautiful, strong woman. This can’t be the first time someone has been interested in you on an op.” Not that he wanted to be lumped in with every other man she’d been attracted to, but still…
“No.” The word was breathless. His finger and thumb clenched on her chin.
But the uncertainty was still there. It looked foreign on this woman’s face.
Something definitely wasn’t adding up here.
He stilled, watching her, calculating the input, drawing conclusions. What his brain came up with surprised him: she might’ve been propositioned before, but she definitely wasn’t used to being interested.
His chest puffed up, like he was some stupid buck preening at winning the healthiest doe. Now he just had to gentle her.
“I am definitely serious. I’m also not pressuring you.” Much. “No is no, okay?” She couldn’t very well bow out of staying here if she was uncomfortable, and he wouldn’t make her feel she had to. “I’m interested, yes. If it’s not mutual, just say so. I’ll back off. But I don’t want to—and I don’t think you want me to either, do you?”
Her lips pursed like she wanted to answer, but nothing came out. But her face softened, her body relaxed. When he stroked his fingers along her jaw to cup her head, her tongue sneaked out again to wet her full bottom lip.
Every drop of spit in his mouth went dry. “Can I kiss you?”
Funny, he was the toughest ass out there when it came to work, but women? Even the toughest ass hated rejection. And he’d never wanted to hear a yes so bad in his life.
“Yes.”
A long breath escaped him—relief. He leaned down nice and slow.
Elliot’s hand settled on his chest. His heart slammed against it.
“Wait,” she whispered.
Her fingers clenched in his T-shirt. When his breath hit her mouth, she parted her lips.
Deacon didn’t close his eyes; he wanted to see, wanted to feel. He didn’t want to miss a thing, especially not the flutter of Elliot’s eyelashes on her cheeks, the flush of pink in her skin, the soft glide of her lips across his as he brushed lightly, back and forth, back and forth, along them. And then he couldn’t wait any longer.
His tongue breached her mouth. The taste of mint and something distinctly Elliot, something that made him growl with delight, met him. He couldn’t help the way his fingers tightened on her nape, forcing her closer, harder, forcing his tongue deeper.
Elliot moaned around him, her own fingers tightening to draw him against her.
The sound of male laughter drifted in from the hall, registering a vague warning in his roaring ears.
Dain didn’t lock that door, damn it.
He didn’t want to move, but he forced his head back anyway. There was no resisting the awed look in her eyes when they opened, though.
Another small kiss, two.
Footsteps in the hall, drawing closer.
