by Nia Arthurs
“Wonderful news,” she sobbed. “An American foundation donated money to the hospital and your father’s one of the recipients. He’s getting his treatment.”
My heart surged. “That’s great, Mama.”
“Everything’s moving so fast. The doctor wants him on the plane right away.”
“You should go.”
“I wanted to see you before we left.”
My heart pinched. “I want to see you too, but I can’t leave. I’m working right now.”
Rapid footsteps pattered down the hall. A second later, Reid shot out of the corridor and fell on my legs.
I pushed the pot I’d been stirring away from the danger zone and rubbed his head. “Did you just take a bath?”
“Yes,” he mumbled.
“Mom, I have to go. Tell Dad I love him and I’ll call him later.”
“Alright, baby. I love you.”
I slipped my phone into my pocket and kissed Reid’s cheek. “You smell so good.”
“So does the house.” Deacon sat around the table, one long leg stretched in front of him and an arm slung over the back of a chair. He looked casually sexy and it drove me absolutely insane.
When would seeing this man not affect me?
“Was that your mom on the phone?” he asked.
“Yes.” I shared out the food.
“She’s okay?”
“Mom’s the backbone of our family. She won’t allow us to see if she’s not.”
Deacon’s expression turned thoughtful.
I slid the plates on the table and grabbed Reid to set him in his baby chair. He was still a little too small to reach the table comfortably. His pudgy hands snatched at the chicken in his dish.
I smiled, my gaze wandering to Deacon. He was smiling at Reid too.
Then green eyes shifted in my direction.
Our gazes locked.
Instead of the raging forest fire I’d come to associate with his intense gazes, I felt something even worse.
Comfort.
There was a domesticity about sharing out food for this little family that made me feel complete. I shook my head, tearing through the haze.
I was getting paid to be here.
Let’s not get confused, Angel.
We sat down and, to my surprise, Deacon waited respectfully while I bowed my head and said a quick, silent grace. He even took Reid’s hand to keep him from diving in.
Which was a feat, given Reid had been eyeing that chicken leg for the longest time.
“Amen,” I whispered.
“Amen.” Deacon smiled.
In that moment, I wished he’d just smack me against the wall and try to feel me up. It would be easy enough to reject physical advances. I could slap his face, call him a jerk and maybe even get Miguel to punch him on my behalf.
How was I supposed to keep my heart in check if he kept tugging on it?
“Angel?”
I blinked and saw him studying my face. “Huh?”
“What are you thinking so deeply about?”
“Nothing.” I speared a piece of chicken breast and asked, “Did you do anything exciting on your trip?”
“Not really.” His smile faded into a thin line. “Not at all.”
“Was it that bad?”
“I was tired.” His eyes moved to Reid. “I would have preferred to stay home.”
“Where did you go?”
He pursed his lips as if hesitant to share.
“What? It’s secret cigar shop business?” I teased.
“You can say that.”
Should I ask about Rhia? I cleared my throat and tried to be sneaky about it. “Did you meet anyone interesting? Maybe in your hotel room?”
Deacon’s lips curled up in amusement. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I gaped. “What kind of answer is ‘maybe’? You either did or you didn’t.”
“Have you ever been outside the country, Angel?”
“Me? No.” I pointed my fork at him. “And don’t change the subject.”
“What if I told you there’s a whole world outside this little paradise?” Deacon rested his chin on his upturned palm. “What if I said I could show you?”
“I’d say, ‘that’s nice, but this place is all I need.’ I like my country. I like being close to my family and walking a couple blocks when I want groceries and knowing everyone in my neighborhood. I grew up here. It’s home.”
“Home.” He blew out a breath and folded his arms over his chest. “If that’s the definition, I don’t have one.”
“You do.” I gestured to Reid. “Home is wherever the people you love are.”
Reid slapped his spoon against the table and sang the alphabet loudly.
I laughed and tickled his chin. “Cutie pie.”
In my periphery, I saw a hand reaching out. I turned and slammed right into Deacon’s finger. His eyes soft, he gently rubbed the edge of my lip.
“You had a little something…” he said, wiping his finger on a napkin.
“Thanks.” I ducked, the growing intimacy between us more frightening than the blazing hot, insatiable lust.
After shoveling a few more bites into my mouth, I gave up on eating. Deacon had my stomach twisted into knots and I didn’t have an appetite. Reid soon threw in the towel as well. I noticed his eyelashes growing heavy and smiled.
The food must have knocked him out.
“I’ll get him ready for bed,” Deacon whispered.
While they headed to the bedroom, I cleaned the table and started washing the pots and pans. My hands moved slow and steady as I daydreamed.
Mostly about Deacon.
“You know we have a dishwasher.”
I turned.
The object of my thoughts leaned against the wall, studying me. Deacon’s white shirt clung to his broad shoulders and contrasted the hint of a tan in his pale skin. Hairy legs were on display in a pair of shorts.
Even shorts look good on him. Dang it!
I swiftly turned back around and stared at the soapy suds clinging to my fingers. “The dishwasher’s too complicated to figure out. Besides, I like washing the dishes. It allows me to think.”
Deacon’s presence hovered over me.
A slight twist of my chin and I saw him rolling up his sleeves.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
“I ate the most delicious meal I’ve had in decades. This is the least I can do.”
Bad idea, Angel.
If this man kept brushing his elbows against mine, if I kept smelling that cologne and staring at that ruggedly carved face, I had no idea what I’d do.
“No,” I insisted. “I’ll do it myself.”
Deacon bumped me aside with his hip and stuck his hands into the soapy water. “You rinse.”
My heart flopped at his nearness.
We worked for a while in silence.
Deacon handed me a plate and asked quietly, “You must miss your parents.”
“I do.” He seemed bothered by that so I quickly added, “We’re a close family, but I’m sure I’ll get over it soon. It’s only been a week since I’ve been here. And what I’m doing is important.”
“Do you want to see them?”
I almost dropped the fork I’d been rinsing. “Why are you asking?”
“Reid and I need to go to Belize City tomorrow for a check up. I was thinking we could swing by your parent’s ward before they left.”
My pulse sped up.
It felt like someone was twisting every nerve in my chest.
Tears pressed the back of my eyes and the fork clattered to the edge of the sink.
“Are you serious?”
“Why?” A crooked smile. “Are you not interested?” When I remained speechless, he said, “Reid’s been a little cranky lately. It’s very important that we see his doctor.”
He was lying.
I felt it in my bones and, usually, that would turn
me off but, this time, I understood why. Deacon knew I would never agree to go to Belize City if he came right out and admitted I was the only reason for the trip.
So he lied.
And I liked him for it.
I liked him even if I still didn’t know who Rhia was or who he was and what he did on those business trips and why he knew how to incapacitate a man in a single blow.
I liked him even though alarm bells were howling like crazy and red flags fluttered and tangled in the wind every time he touched me, every time he looked at me.
Before I could think it through or talk myself out of it, I pulsed on the tips of my toes and crashed my mouth against his. My fingers trailed up his muscular shoulders, holding on for dear life. My toes trembled, suffering as they carried the weight of my body.
I closed my eyes to the secrets, to the reasons why I shouldn’t, and let my feelings roll to the surface.
Only for a moment.
Only for tonight.
26
Deacon
My Angel’s kiss brought heaven to earth. Her soft, plump mouth lingered on mine, hesitant yet bold. The touch heated my skin, not because of her close-mouthed fervor but because of what it meant.
She was offering herself to me.
Angel broke the kiss and looked up, her brown eyes glistening in the light, her lips slightly parted.
She was waiting.
I slid my arms over her tiny waist, cradling her close, delighting in her curves. Her blouse fell against my arm, the cotton as tender as her kiss. My fingers brushed the softness of her belly, the bone of her hip.
Already, I felt my restraint slipping.
She’d unleashed feelings that had been wrapped up and tucked away since the moment our eyes locked.
Impatiently, I drew her to me.
Her toes slid against the wooden floor, whisking over the surface like a chalk on board.
“Stop me now,” I cried huskily. “If you don’t…”
She cupped my cheeks and drew my face close, pressing another kiss to my lips. This one screamed her hunger. Fingernails dug into the scruff at the back of my neck, legs climbed.
My heartbeat thundered, a pounding percussion in the night.
Angel’s softness against my hardness drove me crazy. My fingers dipped to my zipper before I caught my breath and paused. A gift this divine could not be rushed. It must be savored, tasted to the full extent.
I slowed her down. Hand to her jaw. Moved her to the table where I pinned her by the waist and bent her back on the glass surface. As I kissed her, my fingers slid down her face to her neck to her shoulders in as excruciatingly slow a pace as I could muster.
My head angled in the other direction. Our lips moved to a tangled harmony, a slow love song that begged patience and teased of better things to come.
She moaned, her thighs twitching. Closer.
I sated her by guiding those precious brown legs up and hitching them against my waist, allowing her to lock on to me so she felt my desire.
She bucked.
I slammed my hand on the table, cursing my bright idea.
Glass rattled.
Angel exhaled against my lips, wiggling her hips and causing more chaos in my body. She had no idea what she’d done and how much it had affected me.
Every nerve heightened, crackled. Her kiss, her touch, it sparked a flame and it was blazing through my nerves at a rate that warned the frenzy would not be contained.
A fury of sensations rattled my skin.
“Your bedroom,” I growled.
“Protection,” she answered.
I wanted to unwrap my gift right here on the table, but I respected her words. Pulling back, I seared her with a look that made her shiver. “Go to your room and wait for me.”
She sat up, black hair mussed and spilling around her. Backlit by the light, her dark skin glowed just like her namesake. I trembled, hungered, half-crazed and dove in again, kissing Angel’s neck, down, beneath her shirt, her cheeks and jaw.
She was my oxygen and I was desperate for air.
Our lips met in a desperate clash.
She’d brought me to the precipice of love and, with a tug of her teeth on my bottom lip, she was dragging me over.
Her slender hands pressed against my chest, jostling me back, giving her space. I allowed a smidge of breath to pass between our lips.
“Please… don’t hurt me,” she begged. Brown eyes swept beneath thick black lashes.
“Never.” I caressed her face. The words pressed against my chest and ached to be free. “I love you.”
She paused, her eyebrows crinkling. I saw her weighing my words. Saw the fragile hope and the stubborn pride.
Breathing heavily, I swept her off the table and set her on her feet.
She would believe me.
I would teach her what my love meant.
“Take off everything but your panties,” I grunted.
Her eyes grew hazy again. “Deacon.”
“Go.”
She pattered away, disappearing behind the guestroom door. I imagined her doing as I commanded and cursed my impatience for denying me the view.
Moving steadily to the room I shared with Reid, I found the object I needed and spun back around.
On the way to the door, I caught sight of my son in his crib. The pounding, ragged adrenaline slipped a little.
My heart enlarged with love.
The feelings I had for Angel were of a different kind, but it was just as encompassing.
I would live and die for them both.
In three steps, I was out of the room and crossing the hall to the guest bedroom.
It was time to get to work.
27
Angel
“Are you okay?” Deacon murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. His musky, manly scent slathered all over me, taking possession, staking claim.
Tangled in him, limp from exhaustion and throat hoarse, I could only nod.
“Good.” Another kiss. His nose nuzzled against my forehead. Once harsh breaths now softly hit my ear. “I know you don’t do this often.”
I smiled, recalling the night we’d made out in the hammock and I admitted that I didn’t drink or hook up with strangers.
Things had gotten out of hand tonight, but I was too satisfied for regrets.
And he was far from a stranger.
Deacon pulled me flush against his chest. My face pressed against the dark hair between his pecs. A current of heat zipped my shoulder as he dropped a kiss there.
“I’m exhausted,” I admitted.
“Good.”
I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck and stroked softly. He nuzzled the side of my face, the raspy spikes of his five o’clock shadow rough against my skin.
“Go to sleep,” I whispered.
“Will you be here when I wake?”
I froze.
That raw vulnerability, the unfettered plea beneath the iron grip of his tone, it was unlike him. I blinked and tilted my chin up, studying his beautiful face. Square jaw. Protruding cheek bones. Mess of short, curly hair. His eyes were closed.
In the shadows, I saw the man behind the brooding mystery, behind the rows of abs and the layers of secrets, and it weakened me.
Because I hadn’t been prepared for it.
While I’d gotten undressed, while Deacon had pulled me to the bed, while the headboard had beaten against the wall and our cries had rolled over the stillness, it was clear who’d been in control.
And it wasn’t me.
But control was tipping back in my favor.
He offered it willingly.
And I didn’t know what to do.
“Angel,” he murmured my name, the sweet utterance a deep contrast to the rough growls he’d nipped into my ear a few minutes ago.
“Yes?” I croaked.
“Be my home.”
I stiffened, my mind going blank.
People said things in the throes of passion. At
least, that’s what I’d told myself when Deacon declared his love for me before we lost our minds in the guestroom.
But what would he gain from doing this here, now, when it was all over?
“Be my home, Angel.” He surrounded me more securely, his arms banding around my waist, one leg thrown over my hip. “Please.”
It was a request.
My choice.
This large, imposing man had given me the key, had folded himself to fit into the palm of my hand.
I opened my mouth to answer when a phone buzzed.
Rolling over, I blindly searched the top of the dresser for my cell phone and pulled it up, only to realize that I held Deacon’s phone instead.
“Deacon,” I shifted up, and his fingers slid over my hip, “I think this is for…” My words drifted off when I saw the name blaring on the screen.
Rhia.
A hand snatched the phone away.
Deacon ended the call and set the phone on the nightstand. His eyes were alert, watching me.
I went still, a thousand emotions vying for prominence. Anger. Confusion. Regret. They hit me like a wave crashing against a jagged rock.
“I’m an idiot,” I whispered harshly. Throwing the sheets off with a theatrical thrust, I searched for my clothes.
“Angel, calm down.” Deacon grabbed my hand.
I snatched it back. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
The phone started ringing again.
Unable to stay there long enough to find the clothing I’d discarded, I wrapped my body with a sheet and stood. “You should answer.”
“I won’t.”
“Why? Because you don’t want Piece Number One to know about Piece Number Two?” Nostrils flaring, I laughed darkly. “Well, it’s a little too late for that.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then answer,” I challenged. “If you’re so innocent, there’s nothing to hide. I’m sure Rhia has a perfectly valid reason to call. Maybe she’s hurt or something.” I didn’t know if I was trying to convince him or myself.
“I doubt it.”
“How are you so sure?”
He said nothing.
I found myself hating his reticence to an insane degree.
So quickly love burned and twisted into hate.