by Megan Hart
The first bite stung her mouth, but Lisa moaned in pleasure anyway. "Hot! But good."
Deacon dipped his wing in the blue cheese and devoured it, following the bite with a swig of beer. "When's the last time you ate?"
His question made Lisa falter a little. Truthfully, she hadn't been eating much lately. Between the phone calls, the strife in her family, and trying to finish the children's garden, she'd had no appetite. Not to mention the break up with Terry, which still made her feel guilty any time she thought about it.
"I eat every day," she said. "But I haven't had wings in ages."
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Lisa's good mood hadn't been spoiled, just tempered. There was no getting away from her problems, not even on the much-anticipated date with Deacon. He seemed to understand, though, keeping his distance and treating her like they really were just starting out.
"Have you filed a report about the helmet and jacket?" she asked after a minute.
He shrugged. "I did. But I doubt it will do anything. Someone lifted them right out of the parking lot at The Garden Shadd. They had to. I usually take them in with me, but I guess I forgot..."
He trailed off, and she didn't push the issue. He could have accused someone on the staff at the nursery of taking his things out of his office, but he didn't. It was a sensitive topic. Still, she felt bad he'd lost his leather jacket and the nice helmet, even though the ones he'd bought to replace them made him look even sexier.
"One more week," he said suddenly.
The out-of-the blue reference confused her, until she realized he meant until the Children's Garden. One more week until it was finished. Lisa nodded around a bite of blue-cheese drenched wing.
"Just in time for school to start," she said to point out the irony.
"The kids'll still have plenty of time to enjoy it before the weather gets too cold," Deacon said.
"It's been great working with you." Lisa wiped her mouth and hands on a napkin and reached across the table to touch his hand. "I mean it, Deacon."
He smiled. "I thought you were going to choke that first day when you walked into the lunch room."
Lisa thought back, deciding now was the time to be honest. "I wasn't surprised to see you, just nervous. I asked Dad to hire you."
She watched him carefully to see his reaction. To her relief, he didn't seem angry, only thoughtful. He took another drink before answering.
"Why?" he asked finally.
"Because I thought you'd be an asset to the company," Lisa told him. "And...because I felt guilty."
He quirked his eyebrow at her. "And now?"
She toyed with her smeared napkin. "I still think you're an asset to The Garden Shadd. And I'll never stop feeling guilty, I guess."
"You spend too much time feeling guilty," he told her.
Her throat felt thick with tears, but she managed to smile. "Curse of the eldest daughter, I guess."
"What's past is past. For a lot of things."
There was one more thing she'd have to tell him if she wanted to come clean. "There's something else."
His brow furrowed, and he looked at her questioningly. Lisa took a deep breath, knowing what she had to say could make or break how they continued from here. Yet she couldn't let it go unsaid.
"There's a surveillance camera in your office," she said, then waited for him to react.
Deacon grinned. "Lisa, I've known about that camera since the day I started work. I've been hanging my shirt over it every day."
"You're not mad?"
He shrugged. "I was at first. But I figured, let my work speak for itself. I knew your dad hired me for a reason, whatever it was, and that it was up to me to prove myself. I'd say I've done that."
Lisa thought about her parents' feeling Deacon might be behind her harassment, but she didn't say anything. "The Children's Garden is the best project I've ever worked on."
The rest of the bar disappeared. The noisy patrons, the loud music, even the smell of beer and smoke drifted away until all that remained was Deacon, staring at her. Lisa's breath caught in her throat and her abdomen turned to liquid fire. His gaze was intense, probing, blazing.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked.
She nodded. Deacon tossed some money on the table and they left the food and beer behind. He slipped her hand into his as they walked out the door in a gesture as natural as breathing.
He'd picked her up at her place on the back of his Harley, but Lisa hesitated as she took the helmet he offered. She assumed they'd go back to her house since she now lived alone. But thinking ahead to the night she imagined they were going to have made her remember the last time they'd been this close. She hadn't been prepared then, and she wasn't prepared now.
"I don't have anything at home," she said in chagrin.
He knew what she meant. She could see he thought the same thing--about the Circle K parking lot and why they'd been there, and what had happened then. Déjà vu.
"We can swing by my place," he said.
She thought of meeting his mother for the first time under these circumstances. She must have looked stricken because Deacon shook his head.
"It's Mom's bingo night," he said. "She won't be there."
The ride took forever and only a few minutes. When they pulled up in front of the dark house, anxiety fluttered in Lisa's stomach. Three years ago she'd been ready to do this without hesitation, but so much had changed since then. Was she ready?
Deacon's house smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, and a plate of fresh cookies beckoned from the counter. He snagged one and bit into it, sugar dusting his lips. Feeling bold, Lisa stood on her toes to lick it off.
The kiss turned fierce, taking her breath away. When Deacon let her go, Lisa had to lean against the counter because her knees were so weak. "Wow."
He rubbed the back of her neck with his fingers, easing away knots she didn't know she had. "Do you want to come upstairs with me?"
"Yes." The thought of standing in the kitchen alone, having to explain to Deacon's mother who she was and what she was doing there while he rummaged around for condoms did not appeal to her. Besides, she wanted to see where he lived. How he lived. And she didn't want to leave his side.
Lisa followed Deacon through a tidy and cozily furnished front room and up a narrow set of stairs. The size of his room surprised her, but when she saw how cleverly it had been set up, she smiled. "You have a big family."
"All three of us boys slept here," Deacon said. "My sisters shared the room across the hall. Things got pretty wild up here sometimes."
"I'll bet." She looked to her right at the huge pile of boxes.
"C'mon in. Make yourself at home." Deacon gestured and led her to the back of the room.
Lisa took in the sparse furnishings. "You don't plan on staying here much longer."
"No. Just until I'm back on my feet. And with working at The Garden Shadd, that shouldn't take much longer." He paused. "I had a lot of legal bills to pay off."
She wasn't flooded with guilt--not from the way he said it so matter-of-factly. Maybe there was hope for them after all. "I'd never move back home if I could help it. Not like my sister."
Deacon snorted. "You're much different than your sister."
He gave her that look again, the one that made her melt like butter on a hot cob of corn. Her throat dried and she had to lick her lips. She watched Deacon watching the movement of her tongue across her mouth, and knew he was going to kiss her before he did.
He tasted faintly of hot sauce and blue cheese. Tangy and delicious. Even the smell of smoke that clung to his clothes and hair from the bar couldn't put her off. Not when Deacon's hands traced circles on her back and sent stabs of tingling pleasure directly to the center of her being.
Lisa put her hands on his chest, feeling the roll of muscles as he moved. Her hands drifted lower to the hard plane of his stomach, taut even beneath the denim shirt he wore. With their mouths still locked, Lisa slipped her hands around his
waist letting her fingers caress his rear.
Deacon breathed against her when she cupped the solid flesh of his behind. She tweaked him a little, wanting to make him laugh. She only got a smile before he was kissing her again.
Somehow they made it to the love seat, sinking down onto the faded cushions in a tangle of arms and legs. Lisa ended up on Deacon's lap, straddling him, her knees wedged against the love seat's back. His belt buckle pressed against her between her legs, but shifting didn't help. That only brought her in full contact with the bulge of his erection.
A whimper escaped her as he rocked his hips pressing his arousal against hers. For a moment, the sound embarrassed her, but when Deacon echoed it with a low moan of his own, Lisa forgot anything else. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth, his lips nibbling lightly on hers.
Lisa rested her hands on his shoulders, letting her fingers play with the tender flesh under his ears. Deacon slid his hands up to cup her breasts. Instantly her nipples went hard as ice, throbbing against his palms. Deacon rubbed them with his thumbs making Lisa gasp.
"Oh," she managed to say.
"Oh?"
She nodded. "Oh." She bent to kiss him again, feeling his hands on her and wanting them everywhere.
"If we don't stop," Deacon said, breaking the kiss. "We're not going to make it to your place."
The thought sobered her, but only a little. She touched his mouth with her fingertips. "I don't think I could wait."
He looked at the bed. "Mom will be out for another two hours."
"It's almost like being a teenager again," Lisa said. And it was. Thoughts of being discovered only heightened the passion already ignited.
"Just let me get...what we need," Deacon said. "Don't want to ruin the moment later."
She shifted enough to let him get up and reclined on the love seat. Lisa felt lazy, like a cat purring. Her nipples tingled from Deacon's touch, and she felt like she was wearing way too much clothing.
How was it possible to want someone so badly? She thought with some regret of the time spent with Terry. He'd never made her feel this way. Lisa pushed the thoughts from her mind. She didn't want to be thinking about Terry when Deacon's hands were on her.
Deacon rummaged around in his bedside drawer. "I know I have some in here."
"I'm not even going to ask why." The thought of Deacon with another woman made her pause, but she kept her word. There was no point in going there anyway. She really didn't want to know.
All that mattered was here and now. Deacon and Lisa. There could be nobody else tonight. Tomorrow would be enough time to figure out where they were going. For now, it was enough to anticipate undressing him. Allowing him to undress her.
She'd waited three years for this. Lisa wasn't going to ruin it by over-thinking now. She got up from the love seat and crossed to the bed. She ran one finger along the plain footboard, smoothing the curves of it and enjoying the feel of the smooth wood beneath her fingertips. In this heightened state, everything had become sensual. Every movement, every touch, every smell...
She smelled something familiar. Something that wasn't cinnamon or vanilla, and it wasn't the musky familiar scent of Deacon's cologne. It was lighter, like flowers. Like a woman's perfume.
Before she could think much more about it, Deacon found what he'd been searching for. He put the small foil packet on the night stand and turned to her. His sultry smile faltered when he saw her face.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," Lisa said, and forced herself to believe it. Whatever had happened before was not happening now. She was here with Deacon, and he with her.
To prove it to herself, she jumped on the bed, making it bounce. His grin returned and he slid down to lay beside her. She fit in the circle of his arms as though they'd been joined at birth. Snuggling against him, feeling his mouth press against her hair, Lisa shoved away the tickle of doubt that threatened to turn the fire of her passion into ice.
"I've waited a long time for this," he whispered, his voice husky. "It was all I thought about when I was away."
"Sure," she teased, wanting to believe him but not sure if she should. "You didn't think about anything else? Not at all?"
"Well," he amended. "Maybe I thought about beating your butt at darts. But mostly about this."
She knew he had to be gallantly lying, but the lie pleased her anyway. "Me, too."
She tilted her face to his, opening her mouth to his kisses and relishing the heat of his arousal against her stomach. There were too many clothes between them, even though she wore only a denim skort and sleeveless blouse. Too much material, when all she wanted, needed, was his flesh against hers.
"Hurry," she said against him, smiling. "Before your mother gets home."
His fingers fumbled at the buttons on her shirt, and Lisa pushed at him impatiently. She lifted the blouse over her head and tossed it to the floor. Refusing to feel self-conscious at the way his eyes gleamed, she touched the front hook of her bra. She didn't have to ask. Deacon reached out and flicked the small hook with his finger, loosening it.
The peach cotton fell away, exposing her to the air and his gaze. Though the breeze from the open window was blessedly cool, it wasn't enough to chill the fever sweeping over Lisa's body. Her nipples strained even further becoming taut pink buds that begged for Deacon's tongue.
He obliged her body's silent request, dipping his head to taste first one breast, then the other. Lisa let her head fall back, helpless against the onslaught of sensation rocking through her. It had been so long. Too long since a man's hands had touched her this way. Too long since she'd felt the slickness of arousal between her thighs and the ache of desire. And never this strong, this powerful. None of her previous lovers had ever made her feel this way.
Deacon pushed her onto her back, letting his mouth run over her breasts and down to the soft paleness of her stomach. His tongue traced tiny circles onto her skin. Lisa sighed with bliss, closing her eyes and running her hands through his dark hair. She was floating.
He paused at the waistband of her skort. "How does this thing come off anyway?"
Lisa opened her eyes, laughing. "I'll do it. And you're wearing too many clothes."
They sat up. Lisa put her hands to the buttons on his denim shirt, running her fingers along the length of them. So many to undo when she wanted to tear just them open. Instead, she kept his gaze skewered with her own as she slowly undid each one. She paused to press her mouth to the exposed flesh of his throat, feeling his pulse beating rapidly under her lips. With every button she moved down more and more, pushing the shirt from his chest.
She stopped to pay attention to his twin brown nipples surrounded by dark, curling hair. Deacon moaned as she flicked them each with her tongue, and Lisa hid a grin. Two could play the same game. She nuzzled her nose in his chest hair letting it tickle her eyes and cheeks before following the line of it down past his navel to where it disappeared into his waistband.
She didn't have to ask how to undo his jeans. She unbuckled his belt and undid the snap, but hesitated before unzipping. She looked at him, saw the same desire clouding his eyes she felt covering her own. She put her hand on the bulge trying to escape the confines of his jeans, and felt him throb at her touch.
Lisa quickly undid the side buttons of her skort and slipped it off. Now she wore only the sheerest of panties that hid nothing. She helped Deacon slip down his jeans, prepared to see boxers or briefs. Instead, she saw more dark hair, pale flesh, and the length of him rising from between his thighs.
"You don't wear underwear?" she cried, shocked into laughter.
Deacon kicked off his pants onto the floor and stretched out fully on the bed. "Nope. Saves on laundry."
Lisa shook her head. "Don't you...chafe?"
Deacon rolled his eyes. "Let me show you."
She was in his arms again kissing his mouth, his neck, the curve of his jaw. Deacon ran his mouth along the line of her shoulder, and all she could do then was li
e back and enjoy the sensations rushing through her. He moved back to her breasts, circling her nipples with his tongue and leaving wet patches to cool in the night breeze.
He pressed kisses past the cup of her navel and to the line of her panties. Lisa sucked in a breath of anticipation waiting for him to slip them off. Deacon surprised her, stroking her through the sheer cloth, trailing his finger lightly. The sensation, muffled as it was through her panties, was nonetheless enough to make her bite her lip and rock her hips. He pressed his fingers against her again, trailing along the ridge of her opening, then stopping to press gently on her aroused bud. He was driving her crazy.
She wanted to be open before him, without the barrier of the cloth, but Lisa could not speak. Could not ask. Could do little more than spread her legs at his touch and throw back her head willing him to continue.
He took his hand away and a low sound of protest tore itself from her throat. Seconds later, she felt the heat of his mouth against her, kissing her through the panties. His tongue flicked out and repeated the slow, teasing movement his fingers had made pausing at each stroke to provide the same tormenting pressure. The cloth, sheer as it was, muted the feelings of his movements just enough to make them that much more infuriatingly sensual.
Lisa breathed deeply letting the feelings wash over her. She was on the ocean, rolling with the waves. She was soaring in the sky on eagle's wings.
His hands rested on her hips tugging lightly at the string sides of her bikini panties. Without being asked, Lisa lifted her hips to let him finally pull down the last piece of cloth between them. Then she waited, eyes closed, breathless.
The touch, when it came, was torturous. She longed for him to plunge into her, against her, to stroke her and fill her. Lisa's moan came from low in her throat, but there was no longer any thought of being embarrassed. This was what happened when lovers joined. Noise and smell and tangled movements. It was ecstasy.
She felt his hands drifting along her thighs, stroking. His kisses were fire against her, licking and tasting. Lisa rocked with Deacon's movements.