Page 117 of Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

“Please don’t go.”

“Deacon…”

“We don’t have to talk about anything, but being here with you… like this… it’s all I’ve wanted for the past three weeks. Stay, Angel.”

My soul stirred. Yearned. Leapt. There were so many things we needed to talk about before I entered Deacon’s world again and got pulled under the current of my feelings.

Things like his opinion about the value of human life, his faith, his insistence on living on that beautiful but isolated island away from the world and his irritating habit of commanding me around like a soldier.

But those issues didn’t matter to me right now.

“Okay,” I said. Putting my purse on the edge of the sofa, I sat primly. To my surprise, Deacon stood and approached the sofa. His shadow loomed over me, his presence as magnetic as ever.

He sat beside me, his warmth shuttling over my skin and raising goosebumps. My heart slammed against my ribs like a jackhammer.

Silently, slowly, he set his head on my shoulder.

My jaw dropped.

Such raw vulnerability coming from a man as domineering as Deacon shocked me. Deacon was anchoring himself in me, in my presence, and it was such a huge honor I wanted to cry.

The silence washed over us, tying our hearts together in a tangled web that couldn’t be undone.

Deacon wasn’t doing anything but leaning on me, but it was more intimate than the night we’d spent licking each other down in the hammock or the night we’d made love in the guest room.

Back then, we’d been naked and inside each other but the secrets had kept us from truly baring all. Now, there was no wall between us, no lies, no shadows. Just truth and love.

We stayed that way until my phone chimed.

It was Mom asking where I was.

Deacon straightened and I groaned, struggling to move my shoulder. His head, handsome as it was, weighed as much as a boulder.

He chuckled. “Sorry. I forgot you’re a delicate little thing.”

“It’s okay.” I made a face and tried to rotate the joints. “My parents are looking for me.”

He rasped his rough fingers gently over my chin, brought my face forward and dropped a kiss on my forehead, much like he’d done the night I left. “You should go.”

My heart bubbled up, filled to the brim with affection. “I will.”

He sat back and stared softly at me.

Neither of us moved.

Acting on impulse, I grabbed his jaw, brought his head down and kissed his lips. Deacon’s eyelashes fluttered in shock.

I smiled. “I’ll be back.”

He nodded, dumbfounded.

I jumped up from the couch and ran from the room.

41

Deacon

Angel left and I sank into the chair with a growing smile on my face. My Angel was no longer a dream that dissipated with the raging light of dawn.

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