His Invitation (X Enterprises Book 3)

by Tanya Gallagher

  Emma’s soft laughter sent a wave of desire through him.

  On second thought, this was a terrible idea. Another two minutes and he’d be sporting a hard-on he couldn’t hide.

  Deacon dropped her hands and stepped back. “Good.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “You do know I can juice a lime on my own?”

  Of course she’d call him out on it.

  He cleared his throat. “A cup and a half, Sass.”

  She grinned and turned back to the limes. A minute later she held up a measuring cup filled with pale liquid. “I assume this goes in the blender?” He nodded, and she poured the lime juice into the blending cup of the machine. The air filled with a bright, citrusy scent. “Now what?”

  He rolled a lemon down the counter toward her. “Since your hands are already wet, see if you can get me three tablespoons of lemon juice.”

  “I hope you’re enjoying letting me do all the hard labor.”

  He smirked at her. “Actually, I am. Now get to it.”

  “Next thing I know, you’re going to be smacking my ass.”

  What he wouldn’t give for that.

  Emma blushed and shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

  “You meant what you said, Emma. And if I did smack your ass, you wouldn’t be complaining about it.”

  She laughed. “I’m not going to justify that with a response.” She dropped her eyes to the lemon, juicing it and then pouring the liquid into the blender.

  “Now measure out a cup of tequila and a cup of Triple Sec.”

  While she poured the alcohol into the blender, Deacon cracked out a few cups of ice cubes and refilled the trays with fresh water.

  He replaced the lid on the blender and made a be my guest gesture. “Have at it, Sass.”

  She pressed the button, and the blender growled to life, crunching ice cubes into a froth with a buzz like a chainsaw. She lifted her finger, and the noise died down.

  “Margaritas!” she squealed.

  Deacon produced two glasses and filled them with the mixed drink. “You are such a girl.”

  Emma batted her eyelashes at him. “We’ve already established this.” She reached for her glass and took a sip, her moan of appreciation sending blood to his cock.

  Thank god he was wearing shorts instead of skimpy underwear like her, or there wouldn’t have been any hiding his body’s reaction to that sweet noise.

  Emma flashed her eyes to meet his, and the whole world slowed down. It smelled like tequila and limes, like the remnants of her pastry-scented candles. It smelled like Emma. And dammit, he needed to taste her.

  Deacon set down his glass without ever having touched a drop and stalked toward her, determined. Emma’s eyes welcomed him as he moved, wanting him just as badly as he wanted her.

  She let him take her glass from her hands, and her eyes followed the cup as he set it on the counter. Her chest rose with unsteady breath, and Deacon took her face in his hands. Emma trembled against him, and as she brought her gaze back to his, her eyes widened.

  “Um, Deacon?”

  “Sass?”

  She bit her lip and flicked her eyes over his shoulder. “Did you know our ceiling was leaking?”

  Chapter 15

  Emma blew out a deep breath, staring at the margaritas sweating on the countertop. Oh god. She and Deacon. Deacon and her. The moment that was almost a moment before the stupid fucking leak.

  Her body begged for attention, some particular parts more than others, and she stared at the apartment door, waiting for Deacon to come back. She’d sent him upstairs to alert the neighbor a good ten minutes ago, and every moment until he returned brought a particular creeping sense of dismay.

  Emma put the margaritas in the fridge just to have something to do with her hands. Then she closed the fridge and traced her fingers over the photograph of the two little boys with their popsicle-stained smiles.

  The apartment door cracked open at her back, and she spun as Deacon strode through the door.

  “I got them to turn the water off. Looks like their six-year-old decided to fill the bathtub while mommy and daddy were busy in the other room.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  Deacon snorted. “Maybe for him.” He glanced around the apartment. “So, what’s the latest here?”

  “Your room and the living room took the brunt of it. I called the apartment manager again, but he said if the water’s turned off there’s not much more they can do tonight. They’ll send a plumber out first thing in the morning.”

  “Shit.”

  Emma nodded. “Yeah.”

  She followed Deacon as he strode toward his room, the bunched muscles of his back rippling under his thin T-shirt as he walked. He stuck his head through the doorway and sighed. “Quick thinking with the trash can, Sass.”

  She’d pulled the bathroom trash can into the middle of Deacon’s bed to contain the leak, but water still dripped down in a steady ping.

  “Sorry I couldn’t fix it. And it still feels like a furnace in here.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “No. But I did set up another trash can in the living room.”

  Deacon reached for her and pulled her into a hug. “You are good on your feet, you know?”

  I’m better off of them, she wanted to say. But she bit her lip. The moment was past, and maybe it had been a fluke, anyway. A margarita-fueled mistake.

  “Thanks,” she said instead. She flicked up her eyes up to his face. She wanted to smooth the stress from his forehead, kiss a line along his jaw.

  “Okay. We should probably call it a night.” Deacon dropped his arms from around her, and she felt bereft. “I’m going to grab some sheets and camp out on the couch.”

  “Wait!” The word flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. She made herself slow down, sound a little less eager. “That’s stupid. That whole side of the apartment seems to be affected, and who knows if the leak will spread?”

  His eyes lit. So, yeah. She was protesting a bit much.

  “What did you have in mind, Sass?”

  “You can sleep in my room.” She fiddled with her hands. “Not like you haven’t done it before.”

  Deacon grinned, and her stomach dipped. She was in big fucking trouble. And she’d asked for it.

  Emma was already in bed with her thin top sheet pulled around her shoulders when Deacon strode into the room.

  “I closed up shop out there,” he said, shutting the bedroom door behind him. “Thanks again for letting me stay here.”

  “Of course.”

  She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hands to watch him slide off his watch. He laid it on the bookshelf he had built her and reached for the hem of his shirt.

  She gasped. “You’re getting undressed?”

  His grin made her stomach melt like chocolate. “You and I both know I don’t sleep fully clothed, Sass.” She closed her mouth and nodded like this was a fair thing. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure I promised you a striptease.”

  Emma swallowed hard, a wave of arousal bringing heat to her skin. “I do seem to recall that.” She gave a mock sigh. “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He grinned at her. “That’s the spirit.”

  She sucked in a deep breath as he lifted the hem of his T-shirt.

  Ho boy.

  Emma looked, way longer than necessary, as the fabric slid up his torso, inch by tantalizing inch. The muscles of his abs twitched as Deacon pulled the shirt over his head and folded it in his hands.

  He caught her staring and grinned, then dropped a finger to the button of his pants. He flicked open the button and pulled down the zipper of his fly. Then he let his shorts drop lower until they hung off his hips and revealed the top of his boxers.

  Emma’s throat was dry. “You’re a tease, Tater Tot.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” He smiled and slipped the shorts all the way off.

  Oh god. She’d see
n Deacon half naked plenty of times. Hell, she’d seen him naked, albeit covered by that brunette. But having Deacon half naked in her room, about to crawl into her bed with that wicked grin and those dark eyes, brought a thousand fantasies to her mind.

  In every one of them, he was buried inside her.

  Emma pressed her thighs together. She should turn away; she should drop her eyes. Yet she couldn’t do anything but watch as Deacon rubbed a hand over his abs, drawing her attention to the plane of his stomach. “I think you have it right with the whole half naked thing,” he said.

  She bit her lip. “You probably should have lost the clothes hours ago.” Her voice was a husky whisper.

  “You’re a smart woman.” Deacon reached for the waistband of his boxers.

  “Wait!” Emma squeezed her eyes shut. “Let’s not get carried away here.”

  He snorted out a laugh and slid into bed next to her. “Didn’t think you’d get shy on me now, Sass. Especially in that outfit.”

  She reached for the pull cord on her lamp and snapped off the light. The room plunged into darkness, and her protest sounded weak in her own ears. “I told you. It was a hundred degrees.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  Deacon banded an arm around her waist and pulled Emma close, and one of her hands landed on his chest. He tangled his legs into hers, his bigger, stronger limbs sliding over her smooth ones. Thank god she’d shaved this morning.

  She lay still for a minute, her heart buzzing like the components inside her prize-winning vibrator. Every fiber of her being was tuned to Deacon, to his huge, masculine presence in her bed.

  Sleep. She should sleep. But from the sound of it, he was still awake, too. She was breathing in his air, the minty scent of his breath tickling her neck, and his hand tightening on her hip.

  She should roll over; she should break his embrace. But she was caught, anyway. The bird in the cat’s jaws, just how he’d wanted.

  Emma tensed as one of Deacon’s legs slid higher, still pressed between hers.

  Her body demanded release from the pressure building between her legs, and she rocked her hips against his thigh involuntarily, unable to hold back. A tiny moan escaped her lips.

  Deacon stilled, and his heart thumped against hers. His fingers twitched on her skin.

  “What are you doing to me, Sass?” His low groan in the dark was full of a longing that mirrored her own.

  “More like what are you doing to me?”

  He drew his hands to her face, stroked a hand along her jaw, his strong fingers so gentle on her skin. “You drive me crazy, Sass.”

  “Good crazy or bad crazy?”

  He answered with a kiss, his lips claiming hers, hot and steady and sure.

  Finally.

  She’d fantasized about those lips a hundred times, but real life was better. In real life Deacon was parting her lips with his tongue, he was tasting her like she was dessert. She was yielding to him, buzzing for him, smiling for him.

  He still tasted like toothpaste.

  He still smelled like tequila.

  If this was what a fantasy was like, she never wanted to wake up.

  Deacon groaned his approval and deepened the kiss, pulling Emma against him so there was no space between where he ended and she began. This was going to change everything, but right now she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d fought this attraction for so long that finally giving in was a maddening, beautiful rush—her body saying yes, and please, and more. Emma’s heart expanded in her chest, and her skin tingled every place it touched his.

  Deacon dropped a hand between their bodies to stroke between her legs, and she yielded to him, moaning into his touch. He pushed her underwear to the side and slipped into her, the air hissing out between his teeth as her arousal slicked his fingers. “God, you feel good.”

  And so did he, strong and hard against her stomach, those boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. Emma trailed her hand down, gliding over the hard, taut muscles of his torso to feel him. She slid his boxers down just enough to wrap her hands around him and bit back a gasp. No frickin’ wonder he walked around with that cocky grin on his face. Deacon Whistler had the goods to back up the smile.

  She stroked her hand over his length, and he groaned. “Just like that, Sass. So good.”

  Emma grinned into the darkness as Deacon peppered kisses on her neck and collarbones. He slid his fingers from her core, and she moaned a tiny protest, but he was only using his hands to unhook her bra. Emma arched her back as he pulled it off of her, and he sealed his tongue over her left nipple, teasing the right with skilled fingers.

  Every tiny motion was a tug wired straight to her clit, and her body burned with need.

  “I can’t touch you from there,” she murmured as Deacon pulled out of her hands to lower his body down hers.

  “Sorry, gorgeous. You’ll get your chance. But I’ve wanted to taste you since the day I met you, and I don’t want to wait another damn minute.”

  Deacon scraped his teeth over the soft skin of her lower belly, then soothed the trail with his tongue. This felt like surrendering, like letting go, like finally falling when you knew someone was going to keep you safe. Here on this bed, she was his.

  Deacon slid her underwear down her legs and over her feet, never lifting his lips from her body. And then he moved lower.

  God.

  Yes.

  Deacon’s tongue swirled over her clit, and she moaned as he found her most sensitive skin. Everything was hot and wet, and a heady feeling sent her pulse skyrocketing. He slipped his tongue lower still, over her slit.

  “Deacon,” she cried.

  She couldn’t see him in the darkness, but she could picture his grin. “You taste better than I imagined, Sass.” He slipped a finger inside her. “Sweet.”

  “That feels so fucking good,” she groaned. She tipped her head back against the sheets, and the rest of the world fell away.

  It was just her and Deacon together in her bed, his body so strong and sure, his expert fingers working her, tearing ragged breaths from her lips.

  His touch stripped away her inhibitions, leaving her writhing and needy on the bed. Emma bucked her hips as he coaxed her higher, all the sensation swirling down into her core.

  She let out a long, wild moan, and Deacon growled against her. “Good girl.”

  He stroked her fingers inside her, his tongue on her clit, and she closed her eyes and let her hips relax into his touch. Her heart pounded as she raced toward her climax, and her legs began to stiffen. Deacon read her body like he’d been fucking her for years, pursuing her orgasm with increased intensity.

  “I’m going to come,” she moaned, and his fingers played a rhythm on her skin, echoing the drumbeat of her heart.

  A final flick of his tongue sent her spiraling over the edge, and the sweet relief of her release ripped his name from her throat. “Deacon!”

  Desire and appreciation filled his voice. “God, that was hot, Sass.”

  He kept his fingers inside her until she finished pulsing, then slowly slipped them out. He crawled up the bed and pressed a kiss to her lips. Emma’s nerve endings shivered in pleasure, and she let out a long, gratified sigh. “That was amazing.”

  His eyes burned with promise, and his smile lit her skin on fire. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

  Chapter 16

  Emma sighed against Deacon’s chest, and her warm breath caressed his neck. She trailed a hand down over his stomach, and his muscles jumped under her palm. “What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper. She wrapped a hand back around his cock. “Something like this?”

  He groaned at her touch. “Yeah, something like that.”

  She continued stroking him, each pull costing Deacon a little more of his sanity. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said she drove him crazy, and each steady, delightful touch put him more and more under her power.

  Emma’s soft moan hinted at her
lingering arousal, and he sucked in a deep breath. “You have one of your brand-loyalty condoms?” he asked.

  She nodded and brushed her mouth against his, kissing him like the world was on fire, because it was. Everything was hot—her mouth, her skin, his whole body.

  Deacon broke away with his chest heaving. “Now, Sass,” he growled against her ear.

  Emma flipped onto her stomach to reach for the roll of condoms in her bedside table. She tore a condom from the strip and started to turn away from the table, but he stopped her with a hand on her delectable ass.

  “Turn the light on, Sass. This time I want to see your face when you come.”

  She gasped. “God, you might be able to make me come from your words alone.” She pulled the cord on the lamp again, illuminating the room in a soft glow.

  Deacon sat back on his heels to roll the condom over his length, and Emma smiled at him with expectant eyes.

  “On your back, gorgeous,” he commanded.

  She complied, bringing a hand to her clit to touch herself as she waited.

  One breath.

  Two.

  And then he was on top of her, one hand between her legs to part her thighs. He felt for her entrance, stroking her into a writhing ball of nerves once more.

  Emma lifted her hips to meet his hand and pleaded with her eyes. “Please, Deacon.”

  He grinned and sealed his lips over hers, absorbing the cry she made as he entered her. He carried the kiss down her neck, swirling his tongue below her ear and reveling in the absolute bliss of being right here with her.

  Why had they waited so long to get to this moment?

  Emma’s head fell back against the pillow, and his body sang as he pushed into her, steel and silk and heat.

  “You feel so good, Sass. Hot and tight for me.”

  She laughed. “Everything’s hot, Deacon. I can’t take credit for that.”

  He thrust into her again and again, each movement like a promise, like a bridge they were building together. Emma’s hands traced the muscles of his back and pulled him deeper into her. Her cunt rippled around him, and within minutes she was moaning into his ear.