Okay, now she was living in some sort of fantasyland.
Had one quickie on the deck knocked the bottom out of her common sense?
I’m never doing that again.
She bit back another groan.
Who the hell was she kidding?
She was doing that—him—again.
She carefully closed the door before she decided to join him in that bed.
Chapter Ten
After the second morning of her sneaking out early and coming home late...
Of her walking through the door, pouring herself a normal-sized glass of wine, then taking a couple tokes off his joint...
Of him scrambling to remove his boots and clothes when she stripped naked right on the deck, before riding his dick to orgasm and then heading inside right afterward to her room and shutting him out...
After all that, on Friday morning he made a plan.
On Friday night he left a glass of wine waiting for her by the front door.
Left his boots in the house.
Sat in the dark on the lounger, instead of the chair where he normally sat.
Wore only his boxer briefs.
On the table next to him was a wrap on standby.
Because, fuck yeah, his momma didn’t raise no fool.
His dick already had a half chub because it was anticipating the same pattern as the previous nights.
No deep conversation. Hell, no conversation at all. They’d sit in companionable silence, staring out into the dark while she finished her glass of wine, and took a few tokes off his joint. Then she drove him out of his mind as she emptied his balls before going inside to bed. Alone.
Wine. Pot. Dick. Desertion.
In that exact order.
Normally, he wouldn’t complain about the easy lay. Until he realized the easy lay was him.
She was using him to fall asleep. Like he was a human form of Ambien.
But since it was Friday night, he assumed she didn’t have to get up early the next morning. He wanted to be more than a dick she rode off into sweet dreams.
He actually wanted to have more than sex with her.
He wanted...
Conversation.
Holy fuck.
That can’t be right.
He glanced at the freshly rolled, unlit joint in the makeshift ashtray. He needed to get a new stash of Kush. Or stop smoking dope all together.
Because that had to be the reason for that disturbing realization.
His half chub went to a full-blown erection in the blink of an eye, or more like the growl of his Ford’s engine, as she smashed the accelerator to power it up the mountain. The high beams cut through the woods and slivers of light bounced off him and the windows behind him as his truck climbed its way to the top.
He strained his ears to listen for the slam of the driver’s side door and, in the quiet of the night, the jingle of keys as she made it through the side door into the kitchen.
His blood began to surge, but he refused to turn around and watch her through the window. Instead, he imagined in his mind what she was doing.
Which was, taking way too long for his liking. She needed to hurry the fuck up.
Didn’t she know how long he’d been waiting?
What if she just went to her room and went to sleep? Left him out there waiting with an erection and a plan?
Fuck no.
He smothered his grin when—finally—one of the French doors opened and she stepped out onto the deck, the red wine he’d poured for her in her hand and her gaze landing on him.
Her hair was down around her shoulders and her feet bare, but she still wore her dress pants. Her top wasn’t like the blouses she normally wore when coming out to join him.
It was something a woman would wear underneath. With lace along the upper curves of her tits, where it would hide her cleavage. It was white and hugged those assets perfectly. She must have shucked whatever she had worn over it since he couldn’t imagine her doing her “lawyering” wearing something like that.
Plus, even though she wore a bra under it, like his truck, her high beams were on.
He licked his lips, hoping tonight he’d get to wrap them around her nipples instead of the opposite. While he liked when she gave his nipples attention, it was time to turn the tables.
His preference would be to do it inside. In his bed. Or hers. He didn’t care. Or, hell, on the plush carpet in front of the fireplace. Somewhere he wouldn’t worry about the deck chair giving out on them and causing injury. Like him breaking his dick when they landed hard. He’d seen pictures on the internet of dicks after being broken and it caused nightmares.
He grimaced.
“Are you okay?”
He would be if his dick stayed in one piece and he got to be on top tonight. “Yeah. You?” She hadn’t sat down yet. So now he was starting to worry his plan might be screwed.
She raised the glass. “Thanks for the wine.”
“That wasn’t an answer to my question.”
“Why are you sitting out here in your underwear?”
He brushed his palm over his erection. “Just tryin’ to save time. But that still wasn’t an answer to my question. You tryin’ to avoid it?”
“I heard from the body shop today. My car won’t be done for another three or four weeks. I can get a rental.”
Once again, not an answer to his question. The woman was normally direct, so it made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand. “You got my truck.”
“You won’t be here for that long.”
“I’ll drop you off at a rental place when I leave.” Once he caught that Warren bastard.
She nodded and went to the deck railing, perching her glass on the flat top. She stared out into the dark.
He was beginning to unfold himself from the lounge chair, to go to her, when she spun and faced him.
“Deke...”
Oh Christ, here it comes.
He plopped back down as if she’d shoved him. The way she said his name made him think he wasn’t getting ridden tonight.
“Listen,” she started.
He mentally groaned.
“I need to make a couple things clear first...”
First? That gave him some hope.
“I don’t have time for anything more than sex right now. And sometimes not even that. Sex can get complicated and my life is complicated enough without some man trying to be my... hero.”
Hero? Who the fuck was she talking about?
“I don’t need a hero,” she continued. “I can take care of problems myself.”
“What problems? Warren?” No, she couldn’t. Where was this coming from?
But if he wanted to get laid tonight, he couldn’t argue that point with her. He’d end up the loser. She’d end up in her room with her vibrator and he with his fist.
“What you did was sweet...”
It wasn’t meant to be sweet, just a time saver. But okay...
“And I appreciate it. But...”
That fucking but. Time to butt in. “But nothin’, was just tryin’ to save time and let you know I was out here willin’ and able. That’s it.” That wasn’t it, but it would have to be it.
Goddamn it.
“Listen,” he started, because he couldn’t just leave it alone. Fuck no, he had to risk the chance of getting her naked, like a dumb fuck. “When’s the last time you let a man in?”
Even in the dark, he could see her brow drop low. “What do you mean? Like in my vagina?”
Fuck yeah, he wanted to know that, too, but... “I mean let a man in. Where you dropped your goddamn walls and just enjoy spendin’ time with a fuckin’ man. Naked or not.”
Her mouth opened for a few seconds, then she lifted her glass and took a long sip of wine.
Well, there was his answer.
He got to his feet, grabbed the wine glass she was guzzling from and set it on the nearby deck rail. “When’s the last time you let anyone in?”
“How abou
t you? Do you normally talk about your feelings with your ‘brothers?’”
“Ain’t talkin’ about me. Talkin’ about you.”
“So, it’s okay for a man to keep shit buried, but not a woman.”
“Women normally let their shit be known and do it loudly.”
“Not all,” she whispered.
“What’s more perfect than to free yourself of any clingin’ shit than to share it with someone who won’t fuckin’ judge you and you’ll never see again?”
“What? You’re volunteering?”
“Well, yeah.” Of course, he wanted to know more about her than what he could find out online. In truth, he wanted to know everything about her.
But then, that didn’t fall under the category of “just sex.” Which was where she wanted to stay and where he normally did, too.
“Who are you? Oprah?”
“Do I look like fuckin’ Oprah?”
At least that made her lips curl slightly at the corners before she flattened them out.
“When’s the last time you let a man in?” he asked again.
It took her a few heartbeats, but she finally admitted, “My ex-husband long before he was an ex.”
“You haven’t had sex since your ex?”
Her chin jerked back. “I didn’t say that. Sex isn’t the same as sharing... stuff with someone. Sharing is more intimate than sex.”
He recycled her words in his head as he stared at the woman in front of him. Was she secretly a man? No, he’d done a complete inspection, she was definitely not hiding anything. She was a woman and what woman didn’t overshare? He wasn’t sure he’d met one yet.
Until Reese.
“Some men don’t want a strong, independent woman. They feel threatened.”
“And some men do,” he countered. “For some, it’s a fuckin’ turn on.”
“Yes, well. Maybe a turn on for one night, but they don’t want to deal with someone like that long term.”
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” He couldn’t imagine being with someone long term who was a doormat, who didn’t have a fire inside and a spine of steel. Who gave as good as she got. Who wouldn’t fall to pieces at a little heated argument.
“I’m talking about people with penises. Like you.”
“You don’t think a man wants a woman who’s scraped herself from the bottom of a shit pile, clawed her way up to be a strong, independent woman—a fuckin’ lawyer, no less—and owns her own fuckin’ home and law firm? Not sure where you’re meetin’ these fuckin’ men.”
“I was married to one.”
His jaw shifted.
She sighed. “Let’s have sex.”
What?
His brain almost exploded when he answered, “No.”
“You don’t want to have sex? You’re wearing only your underwear and when I came out, it was hard to miss the steel pipe inside them. Plus, you have a condom sitting on the table. Did I read the room wrong?”
He grabbed her arm and tugged her over to the seat next to the lounge chair. “Sit.”
She pursed her lips, stared at him for a second, then sat with another drawn-out sigh.
“And no, you didn’t read anythin’ fuckin’ wrong. I wanna fuck you. That was the plan. Did you hear how I said that? I wanna fuck you tonight. Been lookin’ forward to it all goddamn day.”
“You have?”
“Don’t fuckin’ act surprised. You ain’t foolin’ anyone.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, probably hiding some semblance of a smile. He wanted to cover her mouth with his instead. But first, they needed to have a little discussion.
Why he should care about a woman he was boning being so closed off, he had no fucking clue. But it was bugging the shit out of him.
She seemed to loosen up more after taking a couple hits off his nightly joint, so he grabbed it off the table, balanced the aluminum foil ashtray on the lounge chair’s armrest, tucked the fatty between his lips and lit it.
He took two good puffs from it to make sure it was burning evenly, then offered it to her. For a second, he thought she would turn it down, but then her hand shot out and snagged it. Unlike the first night, she didn’t cough when she sucked the smoke deep within her lungs.
“You know,” she said as the smoke rolled from between those lips he wished were around a fatty of a different kind. “Edibles won’t screw up your lungs like smoke.”
“No shit. But right now, in Pennsylvania, you need a medical reason to buy that shit.”
She took another long drag and handed it back to him. “You don’t smoke it for a medical reason?”
“Got a low tolerance for assholes and bullshit, that’s my medical reason. So, don’t bullshit me,” he warned. “However, that excuse won’t get me a card.”
“Then I expect the same courtesy from you. My tolerance for assholes and bullshit is at a zero level.”
“Probably deal with a lot of them with what you do.”
She sat back and accepted the joint again. “Yes, I do. That’s why I don’t need it in my personal life.”
“And your sister drug it right back into your life,” he concluded.
“With a vengeance.”
“So, your ex was an asshole,” he also determined.
“Billy Warren might be the king of assholes, but Allen ended up with his very own crown.”
He wanted to lean his chin on interlaced fingers and encourage her with a “go on.” But instead he took another toke after she passed the joint back to him, then asked, “Had enough?”
“You have no idea.”
“The joint,” he clarified.
She waved a hand. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Tell me about him.” He pinched out the end, and put it and the ashtray aside on the table. He wanted a semi-clear head when she began to spill all her secrets.
Okay, maybe not all would be revealed tonight. He hoped she’d start with the ex first. He’d work on the rest, like her “shitty beginnings,” at another time.
He had to draw the info he was curious about from her carefully or she might just shut down and shut him out. And though they hadn’t spoken much in the last few days, she had gotten more comfortable with him in the time they spent together before they’d have sex and she’d disappear.
He really liked the fact she didn’t run her mouth for no good reason. Some women just liked to fill the silence or hear themselves speak. When she had something to say, she said it and then shut up.
Unless he disagreed with what she said, then she had a lot more to say.
“I met Allen during college. We both attended Villanova. You know why I went, but he wanted to teach at the college level in environmental science. Once he finished his masters, he got an offer from Mansfield University to teach while he worked on his PhD.”
Christ. Deacon barely graduated high school. Not because he was stupid but because he just didn’t give a shit about school.
Or college. Or working a nine-to-five desk job.
He probably would’ve ended up working some minimum wage job if Judge hadn’t decided to open his own bail bonds business a few years after working for one in Williamsport. His cousin learned the business inside and out, then, with the scratch Deacon’s father left them in a life insurance policy, they started Justice Bail Bonds.
His father didn’t leave them a lot of dough but it was enough for them to get their licenses, pay for a couple months’ rent on their office lease and get a few other necessary things squared away so they could start out strong.
They hit the ground running and never looked back. Best decision ever. Besides getting Jury and Justice.
“So that’s how you ended up in Mansfield.”
“Yes. He began teaching while I opened my office, hoping I could attract clients. Luckily, this area isn’t saturated with civil law attorneys, so it wasn’t hard to grow my clientele.”
“And you got hitched.”
“Yes, even though I wasn’t in any rush to
get married. I wanted to concentrate on my career, building my business, and putting away cash once I paid off my school loans. He kept bugging and eventually I relented since I figured we were already headed on the path to marriage. So, he was right, why wait? Anyway, my business exploded.”
“’Cause you kick ass in the courtroom, right?”
She shot him a grin. “I do, but like I told you previously, I’m even better at arbitration. And settling before having to go to trial saves my clients money. It’s a win-win for both of us.”
“You’re probably like a pit bull when you fight for your clients.”
“I can be, if necessary.”
He liked the idea of her being ferocious and not some spineless woman. It turned him the fuck on.
“Okay, so, he’s teachin’, you’re arguin’. Then what?” He wanted her to keep going and could see the pot and wine combo was doing their job of loosening her up.
“Let’s just say I began to make a lot more money than him rather quickly. Working at a college, he gets a set salary. Me? The more I work, the more I make.”
“The reason you come home late.”
“I’ve been trying to come home at a more reasonable hour, so I could enjoy the house I worked hard for and do something other than work all the time. At least until this bullshit went down with Billy.”
“Fucker fucked it up for you. You buy this house with hubby?” He wanted to hear more about the ex and not Warren.
“Hell no. We were living in an apartment right off campus and I hated it. I also hated throwing money away in rent every month, which he was fine with it. One of my clients is a real estate broker and happened to mention an open house she was holding. She gushed about the home and location, and what a good deal it was. So, I went and, of course, fell in love with this place immediately. When I told Allen about it, he said it was too much and we needed to wait.”
“And, unlike your marriage, you didn’t want to wait.”
She gave him a look which clearly said hell no.
The more he heard the more he liked. This woman was the fucking bomb. “So, you bought it.” Of course she did. Because she went after what she wanted. Like she had with him. She wanted his dick, she took it. She wasn’t playing.
Blood & Bones: Deacon (Blood Fury MC Book 4) Page 13