Page 44 of Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

But I wanted her.

And that yearning was stronger than my common sense.

15

Angel

Just when I thought that I’d have to return to my room, embarrassed and frustrated, Deacon moved.

As the grasshoppers and toads sang their love songs, he brushed warm fingers down my arm, past my elbow, the underside of my wrist. Everywhere he touched left a path of fire hot enough to set the balmy, tropical night ablaze.

The hammock swayed, but I didn’t care. I was already falling, helplessly, spiraling to an end more dangerous than the ground. My heart hammered, electrified by the torture.

“Kiss me,” I growled.

Begged.

I begged him.

My chest heaved. Those words had never been meant to live outside my head, outside the feelings rushing through my body. Now they were tangled in the stiff breeze. Control had shifted in Deacon’s favor.

His eyes bore into my face. In the dimness, I saw his white teeth flash.

Lord, I hated this man.

“Like this?” He brought my wrist to his mouth and pressed a soft, sensual kiss to my skin. His nose grazed the heel of my palm. His eyes didn’t leave mine for a second.

My ears rung.

Alarm bells.

I twisted around so I was no longer straddling the hammock, but sitting forward with my body leaning toward him.

Not enough. I needed more.

Deacon started to slip his hands away, but I snatched it before we disconnected. His gaze flickered to where my brown fingers curved over his wrist. He watched intently while I raised his hand to my mouth.

Moving my lips over the pale skin, I pecked his wrist and then allowed the tip of my tongue to graze the surface. He sucked in a breath.

My lips curved in victory. He wasn’t the only one allowed to tease. If we were drawing this out, I’d make him suffer just like I was.

Deacon drew himself up, balancing on one knee like a knight about to be honored by his queen. His eyes dipped to my lips. He leaned close, drawing near with a look that shouted his intentions.

Our breaths mingled. Despite the fact that he’d been drinking, I didn’t smell the beer on him. It struck me as strange and I leaned back to assess whether lust had made me nose-blind.

Deacon shot me a warning look, incorrectly assuming that I was still being a tease.

The air crackled.

He yanked on the hammock, rocking it closer to him and holding it there. My legs smashed against his chest, bony knees knocking into hard abs. I kept my thighs pressed together, knowing instinctively that if I opened them a smidge, Deacon would knock them back all the way and invade my space completely.

Control.

I needed to keep at least the image of it.

Then his lips covered mine.

And I knew I’d lost this battle before it had begun.

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