His Invitation

by Tanya Gallagher

Her chest warmed, and she smiled at him. “I see. Sounds like the yoga pants made quite an impression.”

  Deacon stroked his hand over her knee, sending tingles to her core. “I mean, they were okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Just okay?”

  “All right.” He shot her an appreciative smile. “They were pretty awesome.”

  “All part of my plan for world domination.”

  Deacon slid his hand higher up Emma’s leg, and his pinky brushed so close to her clit she almost moaned.

  “World domination, huh?” he asked. His gaze heated, and her pulse kicked up in response. He brushed his lips over hers, kissing her until every nerve ending tingled and she could barely think straight. His voice was a wicked temptation. “Does that mean you want to be on top?”

  Chapter 22

  Deacon’s vision swam as he sketched the final details of an entryway bench in his notebook. The side of his hand was covered in graphite like he was back in elementary school and learning how to write for the first time. He dropped his pencil and yawned, shaking out his fingers.

  Definitely time for a break.

  He abandoned his drawing and walked into the living room, where Emma stretched across the couch like a cat. Her cheesy reality TV dating show played on the screen, and she watched, transfixed. She wore a weathered purple T-shirt and a pair of lounge shorts that exposed an enticing amount of thigh. She’d pulled her hair into a messy bun, and her neck curved like an invitation.

  Deacon sank down next to her on the couch and reached for Emma’s shoulders. He rubbed knots of tension from her body with strong fingers, keeping his hands on her skin until she moaned in pleasure.

  “Mr. Eligible and Mr. Woodcock. A very good combination.”

  He nodded toward the TV. “It’s been weeks now. Has, Mr., uh, Eligible picked anyone?”

  “Not yet. The ‘meet the parents’ episode went pretty well, but now the contestants are traveling to Brazil where Mr. Eligible will make his final decision. We’ve got two episodes left after this one.”

  Deacon scoffed. “Seriously? Two more?”

  He dropped his hands, and Emma settled against his chest, her cheek over his heart. Every time she did this—curled up on him like he was a safe space—part of him started to believe it, too. He stroked a hand over her back, pulled his fingers absently along her neck. Anything he could do to touch her, to hold her.

  Emma murmured her approval. “He’s making a concerted effort to get to know the contestants.”

  Deacon rolled his eyes. “Right.”

  Emma tilted her head and looked at him. “Okay, Mr. Cynical over there. You don’t think that giving every contestant a fair shot and equal attention is worthwhile?”

  He shook his head. “Taking away the fact that we both know this show isn’t real life, no. I call bullshit. A guy knows right away whether he’s attracted to a girl. I’ll bet he could have eliminated most of the field on day one.”

  Emma’s lips curved at his confident tone. “Oh yeah?”

  “If the chemistry isn’t there, it’s a hard sell. When you know, you know, Sass.”

  “Oh.” The smile on her face melted away any doubts he might have had. He wasn’t perfect, but maybe he could be perfect for her.

  “You know,” she said, “maybe we’re not too far off from Mr. Eligible in our own way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Emma gestured at the TV. “Well, the contestants live together in this one house, going out every now and then. But so much of the drama happens in those four walls.”

  Deacon brushed a hand down her side, traced the skin on her hip just above the edge of her shorts. “Is that your way of telling me that we don’t get out enough?”

  She shrugged. “Just an observation. My friend Sara mentioned that it’s kind of like a love cocoon.”

  “Huh.” Deacon sat back. “Do you feel bad about it?”

  Emma put a hand on his knee. “No. I like watching Mr. Eligible with you.”

  He groaned. “The only way I’m getting through a whole episode is if I’m buried inside you.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not seeing how either of us lose in that scenario.”

  God, the way this girl thought. Deacon grinned. “True.” He studied her face and shifted her off his chest to climb to his feet. “That’s it. Get up.”

  “What? I want to finish the episode.”

  “I’m taking you out.”

  Emma’s face lit up. “Man, you’re really trying to get on my good side. Can our adventure wait until after the show?”

  “I promise I’ll find you a rerun.”

  Emma pretended to think for a minute before finally saying, “Okay.” She jabbed a finger at him. “But I swear to god, if I hear any spoilers…”

  He laughed and held out a hand. “I hope I’m not putting you out too much.”

  “Oh no.” She reached her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet. Then she smiled and batted her eyelashes. “But if you’re lucky, maybe later I’ll put out for you.”

  “Only you would take me here.” Emma squeezed Deacon’s hand and smiled at him.

  He brushed a stray hair behind her ear. “I’m assuming that’s a compliment.”

  She rocked onto her feet to kiss his cheek. “Yeah. It’s a good thing.” She spoke with breathless excitement. “I just haven’t been bowling since I was, like, fourteen.”

  Deacon grinned. “What were you like at fourteen?”

  “Equally as awesome. Slightly less stylish.”

  He laughed and led her through the bowling alley to the lane he’d paid for. The lanes stretching across the room were cast in blue for the Friday night Cosmic Bowling event, and a Red Rock Lanes sign glowed in red on the far wall. Screens above the lanes played music videos, and a series of signs mounted higher on the wall marked the score for each group of bowlers.

  Deacon squeezed her hand. “Lane twelve. This is us.”

  Emma dropped her bowling shoes by their chairs. “Why don’t you enter our names and I’ll go grab us some food before we get started.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re hungry.”

  She grinned. “Dinner was delicious, but you know how I feel about dessert.” He smacked her ass, and her laugh lightened the room.

  This was a good idea. As much as he hated to share her, she was right about them getting out of the house.

  Emma walked away, and Deacon kicked off his sneakers and pulled on his pair of lane-issued shoes.

  He looked down at the hideous, scuffed pair and frowned. There was no greater equalizer than bowling shoes.

  He stepped forward and tapped their names into the glowing screen near the ball return as Emma approached. She carried two whipped-cream-topped milkshakes in her hands, and her eyes glowed in anticipation of the sugar rush.

  A cluster of preteens giggled in the lane next to them as Emma set the milkshakes on their table and walked behind him.

  “Sass,” Emma read over his shoulder. “And Heartthrob?”

  He grinned at her and jerked his head toward their neighbors. “Woodcock might have scandalized the children.”

  Emma rolled her eyes, and Deacon pulled her down for a kiss. He groaned into her mouth. “You already taste like milkshakes.”

  She squeezed his biceps. “No, my friend. Your dirty mouth is what’s going to scandalize the children.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Ready to go touch some balls?”

  He blew out a breath. “My dirty mouth? How about your dirty mind?” He shook his head. “I’m going to select my bowling ball, thank you very much.”

  The black lights flashing in the bowling alley made all the bowling balls glow in the dark. Together, he and Emma wove through the crowd, the sound of cracking pins reverberating under the wail of a Chainsmokers music video.

  Emma picked up a neon green ball, a particularly wicked grin stretching her cheeks.

  He nudged her shoulder. “Uh-oh. What’s that smile about?”

  She
flicked her eyes to his. “Let’s just say this color reminds me of a special item that came across my office desk the other day.”

  “Again with the dirty mind.” Deacon lifted a glowing blue ball and tested its weight, hoping that picking it wasn’t a metaphor for their date. “Is there such thing as Bring Your Boyfriend To Work Day?”

  Emma bit her lip and hugged her green ball to her chest. “We might be able to arrange it.” Her voice was husky and low. “Though I doubt I’d be very productive.”

  “Guess that depends on how you define productive.”

  Emma snorted and spun back toward their lane. Deacon trailed behind her, watching her denim-clad ass move as she walked.

  Having her bent over as she threw the ball down the lane? It was going to be a damn good view. No complaints here.

  Emma looked over her shoulder and caught him staring at her. Her smile stretched like a sunrise. “Come on, Tater Tot. Loser buys breakfast.”

  “I play to win,” Deacon called after her.

  She rolled her eyes and kept walking. “So do I.”

  Chapter 23

  “So sad that you lost tonight,” Emma fake-pouted from the passenger seat of her car. She batted her eyes at Deacon and blew him an air kiss.

  He grinned at her from the driver’s seat and turned onto the road that led to their apartment. “Yes, your face totally says that.”

  “It’s not my fault that fourteen-year-old Emma happened to be on a bowling league.”

  He grimaced. “You conveniently left that out.”

  She leaned back against the seat with a gloating smile. “Oh well. You don’t seem too broken up about it. And I think your ego can handle it.”

  “Glad you have confidence in me.”

  “I do.” Emma’s voice came out more earnest than she’d intended, and she cleared her throat. “Anyway.” She reached her hand into his lap, feeling for him. “How about a consolation hand job?”

  Deacon sucked in a deep breath, and she tightened her fingers, tracing the outline of his cock.

  “Jesus, Emma. I need to get you home safely.”

  “You will. And we’re almost there.” She felt so powerful, bringing him to his knees like this.

  He moved her hand to his thigh. “It’s killing me to say this, but no. Not until we get there. I can’t let you get hurt. It’s a hard line.” Deacon ground his teeth, and passing headlights highlighted the muscle flexing in his jaw.

  Emma withdrew her hand like she’d just touched a hot stove. Her cheeks heated, and her throat went thick. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about what that meant for you.”

  Of course car safety was important for Deacon. How could she have been so careless?

  Deacon softened his voice. “Five more minutes, Sass, and you can have your way with me.” He braked the car for a stop light and caught her eyes. “Don’t feel bad, okay? When I’m parked, all bets are off.”

  She blew out a breath. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, Sass.” The light changed, and Deacon put the car in gear. “And it’s always been a dream of mine to get lucky in the back of a car.”

  “You, Deacon Whistler, haven’t had car sex?”

  He shrugged. “I mean, definitely not in the back of a Ford Focus.”

  Emma laughed, grateful for the way his humor eased the knot in her chest. “A Ford Focus. That’s what does it for you? Really?”

  Deacon gave her a shit-eating grin. “You’re what does it for me, Sass.” Her stomach fluttered at his words. “But we should probably test how far the seats recline. You’re a Quality Manager. Shouldn’t we do a safety check or something?”

  She grinned back at him. “Probably a good plan.”

  Deacon signaled his approach to their apartment building’s parking garage. “See? Home already.” He pulled into a darkened spot in the back corner of the garage and cut the engine.

  In this spot, shadows covered Emma’s car, and the giant SUVs on either side of them blocked visibility from the main aisle. Deacon reached a hand over the center console and unclicked her seatbelt. Then he cupped the back of her head and drew her in to brush his lips against hers.

  Emma sighed into him, the tension of her misstep evaporating as Deacon increased the intensity of their kiss. Around them, the car ticked quietly as it cooled. The sound of their breath filled the space, and the scent of his cologne gave her a heady feeling.

  Cedar and lime.

  Home.

  Deacon broke away only long enough to lower the backrest of the passenger seat, then he returned his attention to her mouth. He stroked his tongue against hers, raising heat under her skin. Emma pressed her thighs together and squirmed in her seat. Ever since they were back in this relationship, everything felt so consuming.

  “Touch me,” she demanded, and he grinned against her mouth.

  “What happened to my consolation hand job?”

  “The game has changed.” She winked at him. “Try to keep up.”

  “So bossy, Sass.” Deacon unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down, trying to pull the fabric over her thighs. She laughed and raised her hips to help him, but the tight space didn’t allow much wiggle room.

  “Damn skinny jeans,” she giggled.

  “Next time wear a skirt.” Deacon left the jeans where they were and shoved his hands inside her underwear.

  Emma gasped as his fingers slid over her wet entrance. “Mmm. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  She reached for Deacon and unbuttoned his pants, pushing down his boxers. His cock fell into her hands, hot and hard—all smooth steel. Emma’s body zinged with the thrill of him, the trust he’d placed in her, and she stroked his hands over him, grasping, wanting.

  “Just like that, Sass.”

  Deacon’s eyes closed in pleasure, but he never stopped working his magic, touching and wheedling until her hips circled without her consent. Another stroke and she climbed higher, her heart slamming in her chest and her body so electric she was surprised that sparks didn’t shoot off her skin.

  Still, she needed more.

  “Backseat,” Emma panted, and Deacon groaned his approval. He returned to his chair as she raised the passenger seat’s backrest, then followed her as she climbed from the front seat of the car into the rear.

  Emma fell onto the seat, laughing, and Deacon arranged his body next to hers, his hand on her hip.

  “Maybe I’m fourteen after all,” she said. “Just wanting to make out with my boyfriend in the backseat.”

  Deacon traced his tongue along his lower lip, his eyes darkening. “Only make out?”

  She grabbed his hand and guided it back to her core. Her voice came out husky. “Not only.”

  Deacon circled a finger over her clit as she found him again. “I’m so fucking close, Emma, but I want to finish inside you.”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “Then turn around.”

  Emma spun, putting her back to Deacon and pushing her jeans and her underwear to her knees. She grabbed the headrest of the driver’s seat for balance. She heard the telltale rip of foil and a hiss of air as Deacon rolled on a condom. Then he pressed a kiss onto her spine and gripped her hips to guide her onto his cock.

  Emma moaned as he slid into her, her thighs shaking with effort and her hands clasped tight on the seat in front of her. From this position, anyone walking by would think she was just sitting on Deacon’s lap, but he was balls-deep in her, her lower legs still trapped by her jeans, making everything so fucking tight.

  “Fast, Emma.” Deacon’s voice was strained and urgent, and she rocked against him, letting him lift her up and down.

  Thank god that all those eagle and chair poses in yoga had made her legs strong. Still, her body shook with the effort of staying upright. Her heart rocketed in her chest, and her breath panted out. All inhibitions flew away as she rode him, and her body climbed higher, then higher still.

  Deacon slid one hand from her hip to her stomach, then even lower. He
touched her clit, and the sparks gathered with every movement. He shifted his position just enough to thrust into her harder, deeper, and finally, finally—yes, please, thank you—the sparks scattered.

  Emma came with a cry, Deacon following so close behind her that their sounds were a harmony in the small car.

  His hands stroking her skin were lazy, now. Sated. Pulling the last tingles from her swollen clit.

  Emma dropped back against Deacon and rested her cheek near his, and he slid his arms around her in a hug.

  Home, she thought again. This is home.

  “I sure hope you weren’t doing that at fourteen,” Deacon muttered.

  “Only with you, Deacon.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his grin. “You know, car sex is definitely one of the benefits of having a car instead of a motorcycle. Also, the fact that you can drive your date.”

  “I could have driven you on the bike. But I’m going to agree on the car sex.”

  She traced a hand over the muscles in his arms, his heat soothing and steady. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.” She lifted her cheek from his. “Actually, if you had a car you could also transport other things. Like building materials.”

  Deacon nodded. “This is true. But I’ve also had the bike since I was eighteen.”

  His body tensed on the last line, but maybe it was their cramped quarters, the uncomfortable position. Before Emma could say anything, Deacon dropped his arms from her body. “Come on. Let’s head upstairs before I’m arrested for indecent exposure.”

  “I’d bail you out.”

  He raked his eyes over her disheveled hair and unbuttoned jeans. “Not a chance, Sass. You’d be right there with me.”

  They gathered themselves and climbed out of the car, riding the elevator back to their apartment with their hands linked.

  “I’m thinking we might need a follow-up to the car,” Emma said as they turned the corner to their apartment. “Possibly a show—”

  The words broke on her lips as she stopped short.

  A middle-aged couple stood in front of their apartment, suitcases at their feet.

  “Are we expecting someone?” she whispered to Deacon.