Takeoff

by Becca Jameson

  He chuckled. “Yes.”

  “You’re not married, are you?”

  He laughed harder. “God, no.”

  “Is this about your family?”

  “Yes. And that’s all I want to say. Okay? I know I’m not being fair, but the truth is I haven’t wrapped my head around my own problems yet well enough to share. Suffice to say, I’m not available for anything serious.”

  “Okay. I won’t pry. I get it. I rarely tell anyone about my mother because I don’t want to deal with it, so I understand.”

  He winced. “Except you did tell me about your mother, and I’m not reciprocating.”

  “It’s not a tit for tat, Deacon. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.” He sighed. This was exhausting. “Bring a bag tomorrow night.”

  “A bag.” She swallowed.

  “Yes. Just in case. Or don’t bring one. Whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t have said anything. “Forget it. Never mind.”

  She slowly smiled. “I’ll bring a bag.”

  He lifted a brow.

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “Just in case.” She met his gaze. “But whatever we decide to do, it can’t change anything. I’m not relationship material.”

  “Agreed. Me neither.”

  “So, maybe we’ll try to be the kind of friends who have sex with no commitment.”

  “I like that plan.” He loved that plan. He also hated that plan. He was going to need a cold shower when they hung up. “I have one request.”

  “Okay?” She leaned in closer.

  “I’d rather you didn’t have any other friends you also have sex with.” This conversation was goofy.

  She chuckled. “I haven’t had sex in so long I can’t remember how the hell to even do it, Deacon. The thought of getting naked with someone makes me feel like a teenager all over again. It’s so overwhelming that my palms are sweating just discussing it. How the hell could I possibly have two such relationships? You think I’ve been in similar chats with ten other men lately?”

  He chuckled. “Good point.”

  “Same goes for you too then. If we’re going to touch tongues on the regular, I’d rather you not do so with other people at the same time.”

  He lifted the phone and brought it closer to his face, making sure he had her attention. “Rae, I promise I don’t have the time or the inclination to swap spit with anyone else. However, just so you know, you and I are going to do a lot more than touch tongues.”

  She visibly shuddered. Good. “’K,” she muttered.

  “Now, go to sleep. I’ll see you at six tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be there. With a bag. Just in case we decide to do more than touch tongues.”

  “Just in case.” He couldn’t keep from smiling. She was so damn cute all flustered and flushed. “Sleep well.”

  “Bye.” She ended the call.

  He slowly lowered the phone, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. There was a solid chance he was going to have sex with Raeann tomorrow night. That was an unexpected development.

  Was it a good idea? Probably not.

  Were they both going to end up getting hurt? Probably.

  Could he keep his cock in his pants even if he tried? Not a chance. Not now that they’d had this weird frank discussion. How much damage could it do? They were on the same page. Neither of them wanted a relationship. They were attracted to each other. Seriously fucking attracted to each other. They were both adults. Surely they could have sex and not fuck up their weird friendship, right?

  Chapter 7

  Raeann was beyond nervous as she drove to Deacon’s Saturday night. Ridiculously nervous. It was unwarranted. She’d known him a while. They were close. She’d shared things with him she’d never shared with anyone. All the things. Well, most of the things.

  She’d thought a lot about the entire situation today. When she’d gotten home, she’d opted to soak in the bathtub for a long time. She rarely luxuriated like that, but she’d needed to think.

  Was she really going to have sex with him? Probably. She’d realized it would be foolish to deny the attraction. And after the way she’d reacted to him kissing and touching her the other night, there was almost no chance she wouldn’t succumb to his wiles the next time they were together.

  The man broke down all her barriers so easily. That was why she’d run from him a month ago. She’d known if she stuck around, she wouldn’t be able to deny him. She’d spent years putting up her walls. Deacon Matthews knocked them all down with his bare hands in moments.

  It would also be foolish to deny she’d known she was in deep trouble the moment they met at the airport. He’d taken her breath away. Granted, the reason he’d been there to pick her up in the first place was serious and nerve-wracking. He’d essentially been sent to protect her from the crazy pilot who’d been terrorizing Shayla. Since she and Shayla lived together, no one thought it was a good idea for Raeann to go back to the condo. And Deacon had been assigned to pick her up and keep her safe.

  Staying with him that night should have been awkward. But it wasn’t. From the moment she’d met him, she’d felt a connection of some sort. She’d enjoyed his company. They’d had an easy conversation. They liked the same movies and tv shows and music.

  After Hawke Richman killed himself, Raeann could have returned home and gone on with her life. Instead, she and Deacon had continued seeing each other. She’d been living a lie. Not telling him they couldn’t do this. Not telling herself she couldn’t do it.

  When she’d gotten the wake-up reminder in the form of the woman on her flight a month ago, she’d pulled into her shell again. It took her a few weeks to stop panicking, and even that was marginal.

  At least now she wasn’t holding on to so many heavy secrets. She’d unloaded them on Deacon. The lifted weight was freeing. She could relax around him. He knew the full score. Or most of it. He also knew she wasn’t interested in a relationship. Friends. Sex. They’d agreed. It wasn’t as scary or daunting as it had seemed a month ago.

  She was a little concerned about whatever was eating at him. It was strange that he couldn’t tell her even after everything she’d shared with him. Maybe she should have felt snubbed, but when she considered all the possible reasons he might have to be worried, she’d come up with a decent option that was plausible.

  His brother had recently died, and he was obviously close to his parents. It seemed reasonable that perhaps one of his parents needed full-time care. With his brother’s recent death, the stress on his parents would have increased tenfold. Maybe his brother had been responsible for the caregiving. So, in Raeann’s overactive brain, she’d decided that Deacon was probably on the cusp of moving his parents in with him.

  That would explain everything. His reluctance to get into a serious relationship would make sense if he was going to need to take on that kind of responsibility. In addition, the entire situation was probably depressing and he was too sad to talk about it yet. Totally reasonable.

  There was also the possibility that Raeann was way the fuck off base and had made up this entire story to avoid feeling frustrated that he couldn’t open up to her.

  She took a deep breath as she parked in Deacon’s driveway and grabbed her small bag as she exited the car. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of this possible sleepover, so she’d simply brought a larger purse. Toothbrush, tank top, spare undies, yoga pants, and a workout shirt. Things that didn’t take up much space but wouldn’t look suspicious if she wore them home tomorrow.

  Deacon opened the door as she approached, a soft smile on his face. He reached out and took her hand when she was close enough, pulled her inside, shut the door, and cupped her face. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.” So he did.

  Her bag slid to the floor as his lips met hers. She had no resistance to this man. He made her feel things she’d never felt or dreamed of. The stuff of romance novels. Not what people felt in real life.


  She leaned against the wall when her knees grew weak, and he pressed his body against hers. His hands slid from her face to her hips, and he finally eased back. “Yep. Just like I remembered,” he murmured.

  “How do you do that?” she whispered in response.

  “Do what?”

  “Make me forget what planet I’m on.”

  He chuckled. “Magic talent. My saliva has superpowers that cloud your brain and make you malleable to whatever I suggest.”

  She shuddered. “I almost believe that’s true.”

  He lifted a brow. “You doubt me? Wait until I put my mouth on your pussy. You won’t doubt my powers again.”

  Heat rose up her face at his words. Forget dinner. She wanted his mouth on her body. It was amazing how affected she was by his suggestion. “Deacon…” She grabbed his waist. She wasn’t sure if she was reprimanding him for his naughty words or begging him to make them true.

  He kissed her one more time before bending down to pick up her bag. He hefted it a few times. “You didn’t bring much,” he said as he carried it toward the couch and set it on the cushion. All the while, he had a grip on her hand, pulling her along.

  “I didn’t figure I needed much. I can borrow your toothpaste, right?” she joked, though this was incredibly surreal and should be awkward.

  He pulled her in close again and cupped her face. “You can use anything in my house you’d like. Shampoo. Conditioner. Soap. Bubble bath.”

  “You have bubble bath?”

  He chuckled. “Well, no. But I can get some.” He continued to hold her hand as he led her to the kitchen.

  “It smells good in here.”

  “Product of my amazing culinary skills,” he joked. “Hopefully it will taste good. You never know.”

  “What is it?”

  “Pork tenderloin. It’s been cooking all day in the crockpot with veggies.”

  She groaned. “That sounds delicious. I never end up using my crockpot because when I think of something I want, I’m not willing to wait six hours to fix it.”

  “That can be a problem.” He pointed to a stool at the island. “Sit. You want a glass of wine?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” It felt like there was a giant elephant in the room. Sex. If she’d had any doubt they were going to end up sleeping together before she’d arrived, it had vanished. Of course, they were. The sexual tension was palpable.

  He poured them both a glass of wine and slid a loaf of French bread in the oven. “That just needs a few minutes to heat up and then we can eat.”

  She couldn’t decide if it would be appropriate or not to ask about his family right now, but since he’d spent the day at his parents’ house, it would be weird not to comment, so she decided to at least make small talk. “How was your day with your parents?”

  “It was good. How was your flight?”

  Apparently, that was all he wanted to say on that subject, so she’d let it go. “On time.” She smiled. “Didn’t crash. No hijackers. No human traffickers. No guns. No hostages. In my world, that’s a good day lately.”

  “Apparently. I still can’t believe you were on a plane that got hijacked. You and Bex and Shayla. It’s amazing you can still go to work.”

  “Yeah, I try to tell myself nothing like that could ever happen again, but considering it happened to Bex twice, I may be lying to myself. The world has gone mad lately.” She took a sip of the red wine. It was delicious.

  “True. Surely fate won’t be that cruel to you.”

  She sighed. “Fate is a bitch. She’s been mean my entire life. I’d like to bitch slap her into tomorrow.”

  He smiled and set his hand over hers on the island. “She’s not my favorite right now either. I’m sorry she’s been shitty to you.” He held her gaze. “Listen, I don’t mean to overstep or anything, but I did a little research.”

  She groaned. “Oh boy.”

  He released her hand and leaned back. “Tell me to fuck off if you want, but from what I read, most people develop symptoms of schizophrenia in their mid- to late-twenties. You’re kind of out of that range.”

  “I know. That helps. I don’t trust it though. It’s like a dark shadow always following me.”

  He nodded. “I get that. What about genetic testing? I know it’s experimental and not overwhelmingly reliable, but have you considered it?”

  She looked down, playing with the stem of her glass.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I’m sure you know ten thousand times more than I do. You’ve lived with this fear your entire life. I’ve done a two-hour Google search.” He turned around to check on the bread.

  She lifted her gaze to watch his amazing ass encased in fucking perfect jeans. Somehow he’d manage to burrow into her last remaining secret. “I’ve done the testing.”

  He closed the oven and turned around slowly. “Yeah?”

  She nodded.

  “And?”

  “The results are in an envelope on my desk.”

  “You haven’t looked?”

  She shook her head. “Not ready yet.”

  “Okay.” He smiled again. “That’s okay. You don’t have to. I get that it would be scary.”

  “You don’t think I’m a fool?”

  “Nope. I think you have a legit reason to be nervous about the results. I get it. They aren’t going anywhere, and they won’t change anything. Leave them sealed if you want. At least you always know they are there.”

  He was so damn nice. She took another fortifying sip of wine. “I didn’t know it would be so hard to open the envelope. I’ve had it for a few months. The doctor’s office called me several times at first, but I finally told the nurse I wasn’t ready to look. She said she understood and hasn’t bothered me again.”

  “Good. Done. I won’t mention it again. Except to say that I wouldn’t care one way or the other, Rae. You need to know that.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I would care. I would never strap anyone down with me and take the risk of them having to take care of me for decades.”

  He leaned forward, cupped her face, and kissed her gently. “Good news. No one is strapped down here. Casual, remember? Friends who have sex. Ignore the envelope and enjoy yourself. You have no symptoms. You’re past the age of probability. Assume you don’t have the genetic marker for a while and let it go.”

  She tipped her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes. “I love that plan. If it weren’t for the cult of looney tunes women who want to burn me at the stake because I have a white streak in my hair, I could almost pretend to be a regular person.”

  “Yeah, I can’t fix that one for you, but I can ignore them with you.” He ran his hand through her hair. “And your hair is gorgeous. I love it. I don’t even care if you’re a witch,” he teased.

  She rolled her eyes. “Watch it. I’ll cast a spell on you.”

  “You already have.” He winked and turned around to grab the bread from the oven.

  Emotions welled up inside her. He was so easy to be with. So damn kind and funny. He made her problems seem far lighter. Most of the time, it felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders between worrying about mental illness and witch hunters. Somehow, when she was with Deacon, he managed to chase both of those concerns away as if they were nothing.

  It was just the two of them. In his kitchen. About to have dinner like regular people. After that they would have sex, because they were attracted to each other and that’s what people did. A cocoon of sorts. He was a safe place.

  She knew it couldn’t last forever. But he was here now. And so was she.

  After holding each other’s gazes for a few moments, Deacon broke the contact and served them dinner.

  It was fantastic. No way would she believe he had limited cooking skills. When she finished, she called him out on it. “That was delicious. I think you lied to me when you told me you don’t cook many dishes. From now on, I declare you the cook in this relationship.”

  He chuckled. “That�
��s fine because I’m not picky, but prepare yourself because you’ll be eating a lot of toast and canned soup if you choose that route.”

  She giggled. “You can’t be that bad.”

  He shrugged. “I can cook, but I don’t do it very often, especially when it’s just me here. Not worth it. How about you? Do you cook?”

  “I do. I’ve been cooking since I could reach the stove. My mother was often either not home or not able to cook, so I learned young.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

  “It was all I knew, so it wasn’t really hard. I didn’t think of it that way at the time. Life seems harder now. Now that I know more.”

  “Yeah. That makes sense.”

  When they finished, she helped him load the dishwasher and put everything away before he led her to the living room.

  He dropped onto the sectional, pulling her down alongside him by the hand. When he twisted his body so he was facing her more directly, elbow on the back of the sofa, he asked. “Do you want to watch something on TV or rent a movie?”

  She lifted a brow. “You want to watch TV? How would we even see the screen around the elephant?”

  He jerked his gaze to the center of the room. “There’s an elephant?”

  She giggled. “A full-grown one. Yes.”

  “Then I guess TV is out.”

  “I think so.” She couldn’t keep from grinning at him. They’d reached the awkward part of the evening when decisions needed to be made and discussions had. She loved that he could keep it light.

  He was still smiling when he took her hand and held it against his thigh, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “We don’t have to have sex, you know. I don’t want you to feel pressured. Just because you brought a bag and a toothbrush doesn’t mean you’re obligated to sleep with me.”

  “You aren’t obligated to sleep with me either,” she pointed out.

  He chuckled. “Okay, but someone is going to have to explain that to my cock because it’s been hard since you arrived.”

  She glanced down before she could stop herself, although who cared if she stared at his package. She was about to get intimate with it.