Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

by Nia Arthurs

  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.

  Deacon was too intense, too skilled, too… much for me to handle.

  Control? Ha.

  I lost all command of my body, my nerves, my blood cells.

  Every inch of me melted at the simple trace of his hands on my back. My T-shirt was cotton, but his fingers rippled against it like silk. Butter. The fabric hid his callouses and softened his firm hand.

  More.

  I couldn’t get enough.

  But he was too far away. We both sensed it.

  I pulled back, not to end the kiss but to find a new position where I was closer to him, where he wasn’t craning his neck and leaning over my knees to get to me.

  Deacon grunted. Pressed a hard, hungry kiss to my lips.

  A punishment.

  I wasn’t to do anything but surrender.

  Trusting he would find a solution, I continued to kiss him and didn’t bother opening my eyes when I felt him move and the hammock swing dangerously close to the railing.

  Deacon’s lips shifted, coming at me from the side instead of the front. I pried my eyelids apart and saw him sitting beside me. His weight caused the hammock to go lopsided. Gravity thrust me closer until it was hip against hip.

  Thigh against thigh.

  We were connected physically, but it felt… deeper than that.

  Desperation made me frantic. The more he touched, the more I wanted to feel him. The more we kissed, the more oxygen pumped through my lungs.

  I was living in the moment, but I was also anticipating the end, when I’d have to pull away. It made the present that much sweeter, that much crueler. Made me hold him closer.

  Deacon’s mouth grazed my cheek, pulling shivers from my body. My fingers wandered to his leg. Strong and sturdy. Like a tree trunk. I ran a nail down his thigh, mimicking the path he’d traced on mine in his office.

  Dangerous.

  Code Red.

  I didn’t know this man.

  I wasn’t this kind of girl.

  My father raised me to be modest, to be smart, to stay away from hot, brooding men who reeked of secrets and mystery. The abandon Deacon summoned from me, it was exactly what Dad had warned me against.

  But what was wrong and what was right blurred as Deacon’s mouth captured mine again.

  The still voice in my head dissipated, carried away on the waves of the sea, burrowing deep into the sand. Heat seared every inch of me. My hands roved his strong shoulders and slid down to his chest where my nail hit a button.

  With a whisk of my wrist, that button was freed. The wind battered Deacon’s open collar.

  I pulled back.

  Popped another button.

  Kissed him in reward, in excitement.

  To my surprise, Deacon ripped the shirt off, disrupting my process. I frowned in disappointment, but that frown was soon knocked away when he hungrily attacked my lips.

  I was too busy chasing the lines of his shoulders and the muscles in his back to miss the shirt that had kept me from this exciting new layer of touching.

  Breaths came hard and fast. Adrenaline raced through my pulse. There was something especially exhilarating about kissing a half-dressed man while I was fully clothed.

  Control was tipping back in my favor. That power made me bold.

  I started pushing Deacon back. He resisted at first. A fight for dominance ensued, echoed in the hardness of our lips and the rocking of our bodies.

  Impatient, I grasped both his strong shoulders and shoved, chasing his mouth when the movement broke us apart. Pulling back, I pointed to his legs and then to the hammock.

  Deacon flashed me a slow masculine grin when our eyes caught.

  He got it.

  “I don’t usually do this,” I explained breathlessly, finding the silence pulsing between us as he got into position turning awkward. “But just once…”

  He ran his hands up my arm, lying flat on his back while I straddled his waist, my hands bracing his pecs. “Or more than once. It’s a long night.”

  A flush seared my cheeks. “Don’t throw me over the balcony by mistake.”

  “I’ve got you, Angel.” He caressed my cheek.

  I believed him.

  Everything was throbbing and yearning and crazy, but I put my feet on those words and hoped they were a strong foundation. Or at least, stronger than the foundation of the hammock.

  The netting swung left and right.

  Annoyed by the weight of the man and the woman hungrily undressing, kissing and nuzzling between its folds, it cracked.

  We heard the snap of the wooden stands seconds before we plummeted. Not fifteen feet to the ground, thankfully, but Deacon landed on the deck with a hard smack.

  I yelped in pain as the windfall knocked my chin into his chest. He slapped his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, but it was too late. The light in the living room flipped on.

  Footsteps thudded in the distance.

  A large shadow appeared at the balcony door.

  Deacon’s fingers tangled in the hammock—now just a sad little spread of netting on the ground—and curled it over my body.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, digging my hands into the band of his boxers and biting down hard on my bottom lip. The fall had smacked me back into my right mind and I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly as if seeing my surroundings for the first time.

  Deacon lay beneath me, his arms bulging as he scooped us in. He gritted his teeth. A vein in his temple bulged.

  He was in pain.

  I wanted to ask if he was okay, but Humphries was drawing the balcony door open. If he took two steps onto the deck, he’d see us.

  My heart beat against his chest.

  My fingers slipped against the sweat on Deacon’s abdomen.

  Shame stole over me, a cloak much thicker than the hammock.

  A floorboard creaked.

  One step.

  God, I know what I was about to do is against your law, but if you could help me out this once, I promise I’ll never do it again.

  Humphries peered into the darkness. “Is someone…?”

  A cell phone rang.

  I held my breath, waiting.

  Please turn around.

  Please turn around.

  Humphries froze, turned swiftly on his heels and walked away.

  16

  Deacon

  I let out a breath when Humphries turned away to answer his phone. My fingers untangled from the hammock and I let the net drop around my shoulders.

  Angel rolled off me, stiff and silent.

  I wanted to ask if she was okay, but my body was exploding with pain—the kind that could make a grown man cry.

  I couldn’t trust myself to talk so I turned on my side, panting.

  Ecstasy had turned to agony the moment the hammock’s base had snapped. Angel had landed hard on top of me, squashing everything below the belt.

  The pain was sharp, striking.

  I’d need to see a doctor.

  While I squirmed, Humphries conversation carried through the open balcony door. “Dude, do you know what time it is?”

  Angel poked my shoulder, jarring me out of the pain-filled haze.

  I shifted and faced her.

  She sprawled on the wooden deck, her slender arms over her head and legs spread apart.

  My gaze greedily swept over her body, every beautiful, chocolate peak and valley. Desire sprung to life, making itself known desp
ite my soreness.

  “Up here, buddy,” Angel whispered, clawing two fingers at me and then at her eyes.

  I smiled.

  My hands and lips had devoured that perfect body a moment ago. Who would have thought it would be my gaze that’d warrant the scolding?

  “No, I’m still in San Pedro,” Humphries said in the distance.

  Eyebrows wrinkled, Angel whispered, “Are you okay?”

  A beautiful woman. A star-filled night. I’d be great… if not for Humphries and my crushed anatomy.

  “You’re not okay,” Angel murmured when I took too long to answer. Her dark eyes narrowed in concern. She ran her tongue over her brown lips. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not your fault,” I croaked out.

  She rolled toward me, her fingers prancing over my chest. “Where?”

  I groaned in frustration.

  Woman, if I wasn’t in so much pain right now…

  “I’m sorry. I… let me get dressed.” She started shuffling around, quietly. After a few seconds, she nudged me again and, in a sheepish voice, asked, “Do you see my panties?”

  I spotted the lingerie hanging on the railing. “Here.”

  “Thanks.”

  Humphries paced. “No, no. It didn’t work out that way.”

  “Um.” Another soft touch. “My bra?”

  I lifted my neck and glanced around. The scene looked like the after-effects of a natural disaster.

  Broken wood. Slain hammock. A spattering of blood.

  Hers or mine?

  No bra though.

  I caught Angel’s eye and shook my head.

  She debated it for a second and then reached for her shirt, tugging it over her chest. I should follow her lead and dress as well, but the thought of pulling on pants made me nauseous.

  Humphries moved into our line of sight. He stared through the window and scratched his crotch. “I know. I thought so too.” He paused and chuckled. “No, I was the only one who saw Angel. If I’d told the rest where she was, I wouldn’t have been able to stay an extra night with her.”

  I felt Angel stiffen.

  Humphries cackled, turning and giving us his back. “I know, man. But I still ended up sleeping on the couch.”

  “That jerk!” Angel jumped to her feet, swiped her shorts and plunged one foot into it. Stomping her other foot in, she pulled her pants up and stalked across the deck.

  “Angel!” I called.

  She ignored me and stormed away.

  I rolled to a sitting position and grabbed my pants, getting dressed as quickly as I could without worsening my injury. By the time I’d buckled up, Angel was already inside and facing Humphries down.

  Through the glass door, I saw him whirl around. The moment he spotted her, his skin paled and his eyes bulged.

  Thick lips trembling, he stammered, “A-Angel?”

  “Is that true?”

  “Where did you come from?” His gaze dipped to the balcony. “Were you outside all along?”

  “You know, I thought it was weird that Paulina and Principal Amy left without finding me. That was because of you?”

  “Wait, I can explain.”

  “Explain what? That you lied to me, to everyone?”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it like then?”

  Humphries pulled his bottom lip in.

  “I trusted you. I took you at your word. And you deceived me on the chance you’d get laid?”

  “No. I mean, you know I like you. I just wanted to get close to you.”

  “So you told everyone I was missing even though you knew where I was?”

  “You’re making it a big deal. No one got hurt.”

  “But what if they had, Humphries?” she yelled. “My mom’s at the hospital right now. She’s losing her hair right along with my dad because she’s so stressed everyday. What if she’d heard about this? What if she’d had a heart attack? Would you have said ‘sorry’ to me and hope that covered it?”

  “No.” Humphries’ gaze slid to the floor.

  “It’s my fault. I’m the stupid one. Looking back, your excuses didn’t make sense. Peter and I had a big scene in the middle of the road. Someone from school should have noticed. But I took you at your word. I thought you were a good man if nothing else.”

  “I’m sorry about your mom, but what did you expect me to do?” Humphries threw his hands high, his voice climbing. “You knew I liked you, but you weren’t even giving me a chance.”

  “I didn’t like you in that way, Humphries, but at least I respected you. Our families went to the same church; we had the same values. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are, Angel.” He reached out.

  She pulled back, her eyes cold. “Don’t touch me.”

  Humphries stared at her, crushed.

  Angel spun and sprinted down the hall. The guestroom door slammed shut, rattling the very foundations of the house.

  It was a miracle that Reid didn’t wake up.

  I stepped into the living room.

  Humphries eyes lifted and landed on me.

  His mouth tightened. “You were with her?”

  “I don’t need to answer that.”

  Humphries advanced angrily. “Did you sleep with her?”

  “Calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down.” Humphries cursed, his eyes wild and frantic. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  Studying him calmly, I advised, “Taking your anger out on me is a mistake. You’ll only get hurt.”

  “Just shut up. Shut the hell up.”

  I scoffed. No wonder Angel didn’t give this guy a second glance. He was a child throwing a tantrum. Reid on his worst days acted more maturely.

  “Do you think this is funny?”

  “Humphries—”

  “I know your type.” Humphries hissed, cutting me off. “You take beautiful women, use them and throw them away like yesterday’s garbage. You act like the world should bow at your feet because you’re good-looking and have money, but let me tell you something.” He leaned in close. “If you think for one minute that I’ll let you screw Angel like she’s one of your little whores, think again. To you, she’s nothing more than something you pounded one night when you were bored, but she’s more than a pair of nice tits to me. I won’t let a man like you ruin her.”

  Humphries had completely lost his composure. He trembled like a man about to burst from the seams.

  “Is that why you’re angry, Humphries?”

  “What?”

  “You wanted to pound Angel when you were bored?”

  His hands went for my throat. “Watch your mouth.”

  “No,” I blocked him, swiped his legs out with a kick and slammed him to the ground, pinning him down. My fingers dug into his neck. He choked, eyes bugging like a fruit fly. “You watch your mouth. I understand that you care about her, but don’t assume my intentions are to harm that woman.”

  “Get… off.”

  I put more pressure on his windpipe. “Listen closely. I won’t repeat this twice. Angel is not just a nice pair of tits to me. She’s someone I want to protect and the only reason I’m not snapping your neck at this moment is because the stunt you pulled allowed me to spend more time with her. Do you understand?”

  He squawked.

  I released my fingers. “Nod if you understand.”

  He did.

  I stood. “Get some sleep. I’ll ask Miguel to take you to the mainland tomorrow.”

  I took a step toward the hallway when Humphries yelled at my back, “I’m taking her with me.”

  My steps faltered.

  “Angel’s not staying here. Don’t get any ideas,” he added.

  My shoulders tightened. Angrily, I returned to my bedroom and crossed over to Reid’s crib. Through all the commotion, the fights and the shouting, he slept peacefully. Unbothered. Content.

  One of us might as well be.

  I glanced at the clock.

  Angel wou
ld leave soon. Humphries had been smug about it, flaunting it in my face. He knew there was nothing I could do to make her stay.

  I sat up as an idea popped into my head.

  Not unless I made one.

  17

  Angel

  I was too keyed up to sleep so I spent the night shifting between anger at Humphries and anger at myself.

  When it came to Humphries… well, it stung to learn that he was really a colossal jerk. No, more than a jerk. He acted like a stalwart man of God, a true believer.

  It was how we’d gotten close.

  We connected over our shared history of Sunday school and youth group politics. We spent hours in the teachers’ lounge swapping scandalous church camp stories and sharing our favorite verses.

  But it was all for show.

  He’d lied to me just to get me into a hotel room.

  I’d call him a hypocrite, if I had any right to judge.

  Which I didn’t.

  Not after my wild night with Deacon. In fact, now that I was cooling off, I wished I hadn’t snapped at Humphries like that.

  Sure, I would have blamed him if my mom had heard I was missing and got hurt, but she hadn’t. No one had lost their minds or their lives because of what happened today.

  I’d come close to losing my sanity, but that wasn’t Humphries’ fault. I’d jumped on Deacon at the first opportunity like a wasted frat girl with the most popular jock. No sense of self-worth or value or common sense.

  Just pure, unadulterated hunger.

  I did that.

  Me.

  I rolled on my side and stared into the darkness. My fingers grazed my bottom lip. I could still feel Deacon’s lingering kiss. Could feel his strong arms surrounding my waist. Fingers trailing the skin on my back.

  Heated, I sat up and pressed a hand to my beating heart.

  Guilt was the appropriate emotion after such lewd behavior so why was I getting worked up again?

  Hindsight screamed at me with a voice that sounded identical to my father’s.

  “You don’t know this man. Why would you get naked with him? Did you consider the fact that he might have a disease? Did either of you wear protection? What if you’d gotten pregnant? Are you ready to have kids? Are you ready to potentially raise them alone?”