“I’ve been gone one fucking day, Maddox.”
“Deacon. These next six weeks are crucial. You win the next fight against Needham and one of the big fight organizations will sign you. This is what you’ve been working toward.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he shot back. “Fuck. I know Micah Courey is a better bet than me. He’s already signed with Smackdown. He’s already proven himself.”
“Some say he’s already hit his peak. There are arguments for and against bringing him on board.”
Deacon didn’t have a vote since the Black Arts MMA program had become a separate entity from the dojo. As a jujitsu instructor, he had a say in the new hires. As a fighter . . . he kept his mouth shut and did what his trainer told him to do. “So you called to freak me out because I don’t have enough shit on my plate right now?”
“No. I called because I hadn’t heard from you and I was worried.”
“I’m eating my veggies, washing behind my ears, changing my underwear every day, and working out,” he snapped.
“Such a smart-ass. Which means you’re not okay. So for a second, you will suck it up as I step outside my role as your trainer and speak as your friend.”
Everything in Deacon seized up against advice he didn’t want and likely wouldn’t take. “Huh-uh, Maddox. You had your say one time where Molly was concerned, and it fucked everything. I’m here because her grandma is dead, her relatives are assholes, and she’s alone. I’ve been there, man. I know how much it sucks. I could have a title fight on the line tomorrow and I still wouldn’t walk away from her. I won’t ever walk away from her. She needs me, and I sure as fuck need her.”
A soft gasp sounded behind him.
He whirled around. A white-faced Molly stood five feet away.
A pause. Then Maddox sighed. “I get it. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Take care. I need you back here no later than four days from now.”
“Understood.” Deacon hung up and pocketed his phone before he reached for Molly. “Hey. I tried not to wake you.”
“Did you mean what you said? About not walking away from me?”
“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”
“But . . .”
“What?”
“But I don’t want to distract you from your career, Deacon. Maddox already—”
“Maddox can suck it,” he said hotly. “I set you aside once before, and I ain’t gonna do it again. Period. Understand?”
“It’s so soon in our relationship! I didn’t think you—this—was serious.”
“I don’t do half-assed, babe. If we’re in this . . . we’re in this.” He stared into her eyes, trying to mask the worry in his own that his feelings were more one-sided than he liked. “So are you in or what?”
“I’m in. I’m so in.”
“Good.” He wrapped her in his arms and breathed a silent sigh of relief when she rested her cheek against his heart.
After a bit, she said, “I heard some of what you said. Sounded like you’re no stranger to grief.”
Her statement didn’t demand his response, so he said nothing. They’d talk about his demons another time, when her sorrow wasn’t so fresh and raw.
“Is that why you don’t talk about your family?”
“Probably.”
“You have relatives worse than Jennifer and Brandi?”
“My cousin Clive makes them look like angels.”
“Are you close in age to him?”
“He’s a year younger than me.” He wanted to drop it, but he forced himself to share something with her. “Tag, my only other cousin on that side of the family, is three years older. He’s not so bad. I can stand him. Even when he’s always been too fucking cocky for his own good.”
He felt her smile against his chest. “No wonder you got along with him.”
Deacon swatted her ass.
She laughed softly.
It lightened his load to hear her laugh.
“Is Maddox upset you’re not in Denver training?”
“He’ll be fine as long as I’m back in four days.” He tilted her head to look into her eyes. “When’s your grandmother’s funeral?”
“Tomorrow.”
“So soon?” That forced him to revise his plans for dragging her back to bed for the rest of the day and all night.
“Surprised me too. But we have a small family and we’re all here, so there’s no reason to put it off. I guess she had it all planned out. Her death wasn’t as unexpected as I’d thought.”
“Babe. I’m sorry.”
Molly’s hands slid up his chest. “I was kinda hoping you’d still be next to me when I woke up. We could pick up where we left off Saturday night.”
As much as Deacon wanted her, and fuck did he ever want her, he needed her to come to him with a clear head, not with a heavy heart. He clamped his hands on to her hips, holding her body away from his. After pressing a kiss to the hollow beneath her ear, he murmured, “Gonna be wild exploring this heat between us. But it’s not happening tonight.”
A beat passed. “I thought you might say that.”
When she tried to retreat, he trapped her face in his hands. “Don’t think for a second it’s because I don’t want to fuck you until you can’t move this sexy body without thinking of me on you and in you. Because that’s what will happen the next time we’re naked together. You really wanna be limping, sore, and covered in my marks on the day you bury your grandma?”
She blinked at him, then shook her head.
“Understand this. Tonight is the only night I’ll say no to you.”
That seemed to satisfy her. She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I hope you have ideas on how we can keep ourselves occupied.”
“Funny you should mention that. Get your workout clothes on. We’re going for a run.”
“Funny.” When he didn’t crack a smile, she said, “You’re serious.”
“Yep. Not the way I envisioned getting sweaty with you, but I need cardio.”
“So go without me.”
He shook his head.
“You’re not my teacher anymore. You can’t make me.”
Deacon laughed. “You really wanna test that theory?”
“You’re mean. Maybe I’ll lag behind and yell insults at you.”
“You cursing at me will be the highlight of the run, babe.”
CHAPTER TEN
DEACON had been her rock, holding her up when she’d been weighted down with sorrow. She’d needed him to take charge. Forcing her to run, to eat, to sleep.
Amery had correctly assumed that in Molly’s rush to leave Denver, she hadn’t packed funeral attire. She’d found three outfits in storage at her loft and had sent them with Deacon.
At first Molly refused to try the clothes on. But after Deacon threatened to strip her and dress her in them himself, she’d locked herself in the bathroom. No surprise neither of the first two outfits fit. The third option, a long-sleeved black knit dress with a modest neckline, was snug, but it worked. Not that anyone would be looking at her. They’d all be too busy gawking at Deacon.
His suit was obviously custom-tailored, since the black pinstripes managed to both camouflage his big body and accentuate his amazing build. The high-necked white shirt covered his tattoos. The pale blue patterned silk tie matched his eyes. The man looked just as good dressed up as he did completely naked.
Deacon caught her staring. “What?”
“I’ve never seen you in a suit before.”
“So?”
“So you look spectacular.”
He brushed aside her compliment and jiggled the keys. “Let’s go.”
Uncle Bob, Jennifer, and Brandi were already in the family room when she and Deacon arrived at the church.
No one broke the somber mood with idle chatter. Then the funeral director escorted them into the front pews of the church and the organist began to play. Grams would’ve been happy to see all the people who’d come to pay their respects.
>
Deacon held her hand and supplied her with fresh tissues during the service. The reverend’s words were fitting, but Molly doubted she’d remember specifics. Deacon stood beside her during the internment.
Afterward, during the repast in the church basement, he never ventured more than four feet from her side, supporting her as people she’d known her whole life offered condolences. Although her cousins were on their best behavior, Deacon kept an eye on them too.
Finally, the day had ended.
Molly barely remembered getting into Deacon’s rental car and driving to the motel. Inside the room, he slipped off her shoes, forced her to drink three shots of scotch, and tucked her into bed.
At first when she’d awoken, she’d hoped it’d all been a bad dream. But Deacon’s scent on the pillow next to her and the taste of booze on her tongue reminded her that the day’s events were all too real.
After using the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she sought him out.
He’d settled on the sofa. His eyes were closed. His head was back. Light and shadows from the television flickered over his angular face. He’d removed his suit coat and loosened his tie. His black dress shoes were off, and he’d propped his bare feet on the coffee table. His arm hung over the edge of the couch, a tumbler dangling from his fingers.
He sensed her and lifted his head. “You get some sleep?”
“Of course I did—after you dosed me with scotch.”
“You needed it.” Deacon shifted, setting his feet on the floor and moving the glass to the table.
“Did I catch the unflappable Deacon McConnell napping?”
His lips twitched. “Just resting my eyes.”
“You tired?”
“Not at all.”
Molly meandered toward him with deliberate intent.
He didn’t say anything as she stood in front of him; he just studied her with that calculating stare.
She hiked up her dress and straddled his lap. Then she put her hands on him. The knot in his tie gave way when she tugged. She tossed the silky material aside.
Deacon’s breaths became labored as she slowly undid the buttons on his shirt. When she reached the waistband of his pants, she stopped.
“Darlin’, you lookin’ for permission to keep goin’?”
She loved how his accent deepened when he got turned on. “Yesterday you said you wouldn’t tell me no today.”
“You think I’ve changed my mind?” he growled. “No fucking way.”
“Good. I’ve been in a holding pattern with everything since I’ve been here. I don’t want to be in a holding pattern with you anymore.” She traced the portion of the scroll tattoo beneath his collarbone. “Take me to bed, Deacon. Keep your promise that you’ll fuck me so many times I can’t walk.”
Deacon muttered, “Fucking hell, woman.”
The next thing she knew, he stood, keeping his hands clamped on her ass as he set her on her feet and towed her into the bedroom.
He crowded her against the edge of the mattress and loomed over her. “Be very, very sure this is what you want.”
“It is. Not because I need a distraction from family stuff. Or that I need to feel alive after dealing with death for days on end. But because I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. You know that. You’ve wanted me equally long. I know that too.” She rubbed her fingers over the slight stubble on his jaw. “So I’m very, very sure.”
“Once we start this? Once I’ve been inside you? Things will change. I’ll want to be all up inside you every chance I can get, in every dirty way I’ve imagined.”
That was the hottest thing any man had ever said to her.
“Let’s get it started, then.” She pulled his mouth to hers. The kiss hit the ignition point from the first touch of his tongue to hers. Wet and hungry. But after a few glorious moments, he toned it down. Seducing her rather than ravaging her.
Impatient, she reached between them and cupped the bulge behind his zipper.
But Deacon’s hand circled her wrist, stopping her. “Finish the top half first, then work your way down.”
“Bossy.” Molly dragged her mouth across his pecs once she’d gotten him bare chested.
He bunched up the fabric of her dress until she felt her ass exposed. “Lift your arms.”
Her arms went up and her dress was gone.
Deacon affixed his gaze to her breasts and lowered his head. His soft lips started at the upper swell of her right breast and followed the edge of her bra down to her cleavage. “Fuck. I need my mouth on you. Bra. Off,” he growled against her skin.
“Nope.” She trailed her fingers over his erection. “Your pants off first.” As she slid the button on his dress slacks through the hole and slowly worked the zipper down, she fastened her mouth to the flat disk of his nipple.
His head fell back, and he groaned when she started to suck.
Feeling powerful, she switched sides and focused on the tiny tip pebbling beneath her flickering tongue. One quick yank and his pants hit the carpet. Molly followed the delineated line between his pecs with her mouth, kissing a straight line down his belly until she had to lower to her knees. She’d just mouthed the outline of his cock, when she was hauled to her feet again.
“My pants are off, babe. I want those tits.” His rough-skinned hands glided up her spine and she shivered from the sensation. Deft fingers pulled the hooks on her bra. Deacon paused. “Eyes on mine.”
That command made her breath catch.
He leaned back only far enough to slide the straps down her arms, letting the bra cups fall away and reveal her bare breasts. That’s when she understood why he’d demanded she watch him, so she could see the hunger in his eyes that was all for her.
The first hot touch of his mouth to her nipple made her knees buckle.
“Hold on to me.” He placed her hands around the back of his neck.
Deacon focused his attention on her breasts. Vigorously sucking her nipples. Dragging kisses across the upper and lower swells. Burying his face in her cleavage. Squeezing, pinching, nipping, licking, turning her inside out with his single-minded dedication to her chest.
“Deacon.”
“Not yet. Fuck me, you have the most perfect tits.”
The pulse in her sex mimicked the hard pulls of his mouth on her nipples. Another rush of wetness coated the insides of her thighs. “Stop teasing and give me your cock.”
That got his attention.
Keeping their eyes locked, he ditched his boxer briefs and kicked them away. Then he curled one of her hands around his shaft. He hissed when she squeezed and jacked him twice.
Her thumb swept beneath the head and over the wet tip. “You’re big.”
“Fuck. Don’t do that.”
“What? Tell you you’re big? Or this?” She traced the flared rim of his cock.
“That. Put your hands to better use and take off your panties.”
“Help me.”
Deacon yanked down one side while she did the other.
The heat of his skin where his thighs brushed hers sent a tremor through her.
He palmed her breast and spoke directly into her ear. “Spread your legs for me.”
His touch, his voice, the hard press of his body nearly had her coming before he traced her slit with his middle finger.
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