Page 43 of Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

My gaze slid up his body and I realized that I had no breath to catch.

Awareness prickled up my spine.

We were too close.

His shoulders hovered near my cheek.

If I lowered my head, I could bury my face in his chest.

If I didn’t… if I stayed still and he turned…

Deacon shifted and the movement brought his lips an inch away from my mouth. With his hands still on the hammock, he was bringing me forward, surrounding me, every inch of his body hovering, teasing, but not touching.

My tears dried.

I hiccupped.

His lips twitched. “Are you okay?”

“I… honestly don’t know how to answer that question.” My eyes dipped to his neck again. My lips tingled and the desire to press them against his skin almost overwhelmed me.

I squeezed my eyes closed to erase the thought. My body was lit up like a Christmas tree and all he did was stand over me. I couldn’t imagine the chaos Deacon would unleash if I allowed myself to kiss any part of him.

The night went still as we watched each other. I knew he could read the desire in my eyes just as I could read the desire in his.

His heated gaze caressed my forehead, my nose, my lips as if he’d never seen them before. I imagined that this was what famous sculptures suffered, always admired but never touched.

Emotions stirred in my chest like a witch’s brew. I was no sculpture. My flesh was real. My heart was thumping and I wanted to be touched.

I wanted to be held.

I wanted to be kissed.

By Deacon.

14

Deacon

Angel’s rising impatience did not go unnoticed. I saw her shuffling. Saw her delicate throat bobbing and her eyes darting from left to right. But I ignored the signs and took my time studying her.

She was so incredibly beautiful.

Sitting here before her, breathing her air, was a privilege that I didn’t take lightly.

Her body warmed, shivered. That craving of hers, the proud toss of her head and the conflict in her brown eyes made my observation even sweeter. She hid nothing from me and yet she posed a mystery.

What made her tick?

What made her smile, laugh, and love?

My fingers slipped against her brown skin. Her eyes melted closed and she leaned into my touch.

Inside my chest, my heart flipped.

The more I learned of her, the more convinced I became that I would ruin her life and she mine. Though there was no such thing as ‘normal’, Angel stood closer to the goal than I could ever hope to.

We were too different.

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