Page 43 of Deceive Me
But hold her he did, long into the night, wishing his arms around her could teach her a far different lesson than the one her teenage self had learned.
17
Elliot stirred the minute Deacon did. The room was dark, not yet dawn, but she could see the greenish glow of the monitor that still showed Sydney tucked safely in her bed. Normally Elliot’s bedroom door remained open during the night; how could she have forgotten to open it last night?
Deacon’s rough hand smoothed down her bare stomach, and Elliot closed her eyes tight. That was how she’d forgotten. Damn man. Not that it had been all his fault. Sex was no excuse for either of them. Yes, Saint would be patrolling the house, Fionn outside, but Elliot never left her charge to chance. Never.
Until now.
Deacon’s palm pressed into her lower belly, right over the spot that had contracted so hard for him last night. The spot that tightened now in anticipation. His body curled around her, a protective curve she’d never felt before. It probably shouldn’t feel as good now as it did, but oh, she wished she didn’t have to move from this spot, from his hold, ever again. All hard muscle from head to toe and soft breath across her shoulder and neck. So very good.
But she couldn’t afford to give in to the pleasure again.
Drawing her resolve around her, she eased the sheet from her bare body. Another mistake. She never slept naked on an op. Being ready at a moment’s notice was a necessity. Not that a naked body would keep her from running into danger—she was more dangerous naked than most people were fully clothed and armed. Still, it wasn’t her first choice.
Deacon’s arm went steel-hard when she started to slide from the bed. “What’s wrong?”
The gruff question sent tingles down her spine, memories washing over her of that rough voice whispering to her last night, telling her what to do, commanding her to come for him again.
“Nothing.” She had to clear the husky tone from her voice before saying, “Just need to get to work.”
“No, you don’t.”
Unfortunately Deacon knew their duty schedules as well as Elliot did. No hiding behind work then.
“I need to go.”
“You mean you need to run.” He pulled her harder against him, against the part of him that was growing harder with every breath she took. “Why do you need to run, Elliot?”
Just scared shitless, that’s all. “I’m not running.”
Deacon’s fingers moved lower, lower, lower. “I think I know why.”
She couldn’t help it; her legs loosened, refusing to stay clamped tight against his seeking touch. And when two thick fingers slid down either side of her clit to discover her already creamy invitation, all she could do was close her eyes and pray he didn’t call her on her lie.
“That’s why you’re running,” he whispered, all husky and male, in her ear. “Because you’re afraid.”
Her spine went rigid. “I’m not scared of anything.”
Deacon laughed, the sound rumbling along her spine. One finger slid deep, teasing her, tempting her. “Then stay here with me for a few more minutes. I can make you feel good, Ell; you know I can.”
Feeling good; that’s all this was about. And she hadn’t lied. She wasn’t scared of anything—except this being about more than pleasure. Did she want it to be? Did he? Both were equally terrifying options, and she couldn’t risk them. Not now, not when she needed to focus on keeping him and Sydney safe from her father. Not when she knew he’d be walking away when Mansa was dead.
Not when today was her last day to tell him who her father was before Dain did it for her.
Maybe it was her inexperience making her feel this way. There had only been Josh for her. A rough, quick screw in a closet. Nothing like what Deacon had done to her last night. Nothing like what he’d made her feel.
But she had no illusions about his “intentions.” There were none. She was convenient, that was all. Other men had come on to her during jobs, but she’d never been tempted to take them up on it, not till Deacon. And oh, what a temptation he’d been.
Still was.
She ignored the ecstatic reaction of her traitorous body and rolled out of the bed without a word.
The toilet had barely had time to flush before Deacon barged into the bathroom. Elliot was reaching to turn on the shower when the door opened.
“Deacon!”
“Elliot!”
