by L Ann
He grasped her chin with one hand, held her still.
“Gemma, if we don’t stop this right now..” he warned, his voice rough, overlaid with that of his wolf.
In response, Gemma arched her hips, rocked herself against his erection, and it was his turn to moan. A moan that turned into a snarl and he swooped down and claimed her mouth again in a kiss that was a fierce demand, a statement of ownership.
“Touch me.”She whispered the words against his lips.
“Gemma–” he tried again to slow the pace, to pull back.
“Please, Deacon. I need you to touch me.” Her whispered plea snapped the final thread he had on his control.
“Where? Show me where.” She was all feminine heat and soft curves and when her hand caught his wrist and dragged his palm down her body, it devastated his senses.
His fingers skimmed over her thigh, found their way beneath her sleep shorts and traced along the edge of her panties. “Like this?”
Her fingers dug into his spine and she arched, chasing his fingers.
“Please, Deacon.”
“This what you want?” He let one finger stroke through her wetness, felt her shudder. “Is that for me?” he whispered against her mouth and drove his finger inside her molten heat. His thumb found the tight little bundle of nerves and stroked across it lightly.
“Don’t stop.”
He added a second finger, angled them and pushed deeper, feeling her contract around him.
“Deacon!” Gemma gasped his name, clawed at his back, and felt him thrust a third finger inside, filling her. Pleasure overwhelmed her. She wanted to scream, but his mouth was there, swallowing the sound, and she clung to him as languid heat stole through her, leaving her limp, exhausted and wonderfully satisfied.
When his fingers left her, and he rolled to the side, she felt the loss. With an effort, she forced her eyes open and reached out to run her palm down his chest, along the intriguing tattooed paw prints leading down and under the waistband of his jeans. His fingers curved around her wrist and stopped her before her hand reached his erection.
“But you didn’t–” she began.
“Believe me, I know.” He gave a ragged laugh. “But I’m trying my hardest to do the right thing here, Starshine, and you touching me right now is gonna blow that out of the water.”
His eyes glittered when he turned his head to look at her. “You keep forgetting I’m not human, sweetheart. I know more from what you don’t say than what you do. And I know, even while you were going to …” his lips quirked up, “… return the favour, shall we say? And I know part of you wants to do that.” He lifted the wrist he held and guided her palm to his lips. “Part of you had detached from the whole heat of the moment thing and, baby, I need you to hear this. When I do get your hands on me, trust me when I say we won’t be stopping at foreplay.”
He sprang from the bed before she could respond – not that she had any words to say in response – and grinned down at her.
“I’m gonna take a shower. A long, cold shower.” His grin widened. “For both our sakes, please be asleep when I get out.”
Gemma woke up late and alone the next morning. She knew Deacon had been in the bed at some point because she’d woken up briefly when he slid under the covers beside her. He’d wound an arm around her waist, reeled her in against him and whispered goodnight.
After using the bathroom to freshen up, she pulled on clean jeans and a tank top and headed downstairs. Halfway down, she heard voices – one was definitely Deacon, the other she thought she recognised but wasn’t sure. Her footsteps slowed to a stop and she wavered between continuing to the kitchen or sneaking back to the bedroom. An unexpected wave of panic enveloped her and she covered her mouth, trying to control her breathing.
As if her emotions had summoned him, Deacon appeared in the doorway. His hair was damp, and he was pulling a t-shirt over his head. When his head popped through the material, he grinned up at her.
“Hey.” He padded forward and stopped at the foot of the stairs. “I thought I heard you moving around. Can you give your door keys to Asher? He’s going to take some measurements and work out what is needed to install a new security system.”
Gemma blinked at him. “Won’t he need to check with the landlord first?”
“Already done. Since we’re paying for it, he was happy for it to happen. We need to head back to the Sanctuary for a bit.” He turned back toward the kitchen, then spun around again, his head tilting. “Why are you standing on the stairs?”
“I–” she shrugged, gave a self-conscious laugh. “I don’t actually know.”
Deacon threw her a quizzical look, then shook his head with a smile. “Okay, then. We’re leaving in half an hour. Is that enough time to do whatever it is you need to do?”
She descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen beside him.
“Why do we need to go to The L.. The Sanctuary?” Not calling it The Lodge felt strange, but it was no longer her family home.
“Pack Meeting,” Asher smiled in greeting and handed her a mug of coffee. “At least for you two. I’m going to hook you up with some new security here instead or, at least, order all the stuff I’ll need.”
“Do I really need a new security system?” She asked, and took a sip of coffee, savouring the taste.
“I broke in the other night and you didn’t even notice,” Deacon pointed out.
“Hmm.” She turned her attention to where Asher leaned against the refrigerator. “Will a new system keep him out?”
Asher chuckled. “Nothing keeps Deacon out of somewhere if he wants inside. Designing security systems he can’t break keeps us both in business.”
“You’d think just being him would be a full-time job.” She held the mug against her lips and peered at Deacon over the rim.
“People hire me to break into their businesses and top level security systems. I do it and then give them a complete breakdown on where the breaches are. Asher then develops their new security systems, fixing those loopholes,” Deacon offered her an explanation.
“Wow, so you’re basically a legitimate thief?”
“I could probably make a good living stealing and selling my ill-gotten gains on the black market, but no I don’t take anything … unless the company hires me to steal it from them to prove I can.”
Gemma gazed at him. “So that’s your super power?” she asked. “Getting into places you’re not supposed to be.” He snorted a surprised laugh and Gemma frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“I knew the real Gemma was hiding in there somewhere.” He drained his coffee and placed the mug on the counter.
Gemma opened her mouth to respond, then paused, her attention turning inward. She felt better, lighter, more … normal … than she had in days. Her focus returned to Deacon, who had moved to stand in front of her, a knowing smile playing around his lips.
“You’re an asshole,” she told him softly.
The smile turned into a grin. “And yet,” he spread his arms wide and winked at her. “I was right.”
Getting Gemma to agree to return to The Sanctuary was easier than he expected. When Asher had repeated Deacon’s request for her keys, she’d handed them over without argument, stuffed a backpack with a change of clothes and followed Deacon out to his bike.
When he swung his leg over the seat and held out a hand to her, she hesitated.
“Please don’t drive … ride? … like you have a death wish,” she told him, and he laughed.
“Just get on, Starshine. I promise I won’t kill us.”
Her disbelieving look had made him laugh harder, right until she climbed onto the bike behind him. The second he felt her arms wrap around his waist, his laughter cut off, and he huffed softly.
“Move closer,” he instructed, and hooked his arms around her legs to slide her further up the seat. He urged her closer and closer until he could feel her legs tucked in close against his and her breasts pressing against his back.
> Courting temptation, DJ? He taunted himself. With a mental shake, he kicked the bike into motion.
The ride back to Sanctuary taught Deacon three things. One - riding with a hard-on in jeans was the most uncomfortable experience of his life. Two - every time Gemma shifted behind him, it made his wolf growl inside his head and distracted him from focusing on the road. Three - having her on the back of his bike could very well be the death of him, of her, and of any oncoming traffic.
He made the journey in record time, barely giving the gates a chance to open before speeding through and skidded to a stop outside the main house.
One of her hands patted his taut stomach muscles as she dismounted the bike.
“Thank you for not killing us.”
Deacon threw her a dark look from beneath his lashes.
Was she fucking kidding him?
No, she seemed completely oblivious to the erection threatening to burst through his jeans, he realised, as she stood looking around. But her lack of attention gave him a minute to adjust himself into a position only mildly uncomfortable before he climbed off the bike and moved toward the front door.
He had taken a step inside before he realised Gemma wasn’t beside him. Looking around he found her still standing near his bike, gnawing on her bottom lip. Deacon retraced his steps and stopped in front of her.
“It’s just a house.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s … I … It must take Shaun back to that … those days whenever he sees me.”
“He doesn’t hold you responsible, Gemma.”
“I know, but–”
“But what? Does it take you back there when you see Shaun?”
She looked away. “You know it does.”
“Do you blame Shaun for that?”
“Of course not!”
“So, what’s the problem if that’s not it?” he asked.
“When I went home, it was because I couldn’t stand the looks, the pity, the whispers.”
“Call them on it. If you see them treating you different, tell them to pack it the fuck up.”
She laughed. “Easy to say.”
“Easy to do.” He cupped her cheeks with his palms and tilted her head back. “A couple of weeks ago you wouldn’t have thought twice about calling them on their shit.” He stared down at her until he saw the determination in her eyes and nodded. “There she is.”
“You’re right. What happened doesn’t define me.”
Unable to resist the temptation, he dropped his head and stole a quick kiss. “Of course I’m right.” His lips curved up into a wicked smile. “I told you, Starshine, I’m always right.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Name one time I was wrong,” he challenged. When she didn’t reply, he grinned. “You can’t think of one.”
“You’ve just been lucky.”
“Or,” he said, moving to her side and urging her forward with a palm to the small of her back. “And, hear me out on this. I’m simply always right.”
How did he do that?
One minute Gemma had been looking at the house, full of trepidation and her stomach in knots, and the next she was halfway down the hallway to the kitchen, laughing at Deacon’s outrageous self-confidence.
The kitchen was empty, bar for two people when they reached it. And the two who were there seemed completely focused on the hushed intense conversation they were having. Gemma saw curiosity brighten Deacon’s eyes as he looked at Isabella and Chase standing almost nose to nose near the door, which opened out onto the back of the property.
He turned his head toward her, then glanced back at the two wolf shifters, and his brows pulled together into a frown.
“I’m fucking starving.” His voice, unexpectedly loud, made Gemma jump, but it was nothing compared to the reaction of Isabella and Chase.
The pair recoiled away from each other, the colour draining from Isabella’s face as she spun around.
“Deacon!” She smoothed a hand down the front of her top. “When did you get here?”
“Just now. I was going to grab something to eat before heading in to see Mac.” He glanced around, caught Gemma’s eye and winked. “Where is everyone?”
“Shaun is down by the lake with Cassie,” Chase offered. “Mac is in the study. I have no idea where everyone else is.”
Gemma watched as Deacon rifled through the cupboards and refrigerator, pulling out bread, meats and cheeses. Piling it all on top of a serving platter, he carried it over to the table before searching the drawers for a bread knife.
He attacked the bread like it was a joint of meat and Gemma couldn’t stop the laugh which bubbled up, reached out and took the knife away from him.
“Give me that before you butcher it beyond recognition.”
Deacon cocked his head, spun the knife in his palm and offered it to her, handle first, with a flourish.
“Get some plates,” she instructed him and sliced the bread deftly. The meat and cheese was next, until she had three neat piles.
“You wield that knife like you know what you’re doing,” Deacon commented around a mouthful of ham he’d stolen.
“I like to cook.” She slapped his hand away when he reached for a slice of cheese.
“Starshine,” he protested. “Sweetheart, I’m starving here.”
Gemma shook her head, refusing to smile. “I’ve never heard you whine before.”
“Baby, I’m a wolf. We whine, howl, and growl whenever the situation requires it.”
Gemma laughed. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“Yes, there is. I’m wasting away from starvation.” He fell on the sandwich she placed on the table in front of him, snatching it up off the plate and taking a huge bite out of it.
She smiled faintly and moved around the table to offer a sandwich to Chase. He took it with a smile of thanks.
“Don’t give my food to him,” Deacon complained. “He’s flirting with his Alpha’s intended mate. He doesn’t deserve food.”
Chase froze, sandwich halfway to his mouth and Gemma turned to look at Deacon. A smile teased his lips, but his eyes were dark and unreadable.
“Deacon,” Isabella moved to stand between the two men. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh?” His head cocked. “And what do I think?” He took another slow bite of his sandwich, his dark eyes on Isabella.
“You think we’re hiding something from Cormac.”
Deacon chewed and swallowed. “Actually, I was just thinking Chase was flirting, but now? Now I am wondering what you’re hiding,” he replied, thoughtfully.
“Nothing! We’re hiding nothing. We were just talking,” Isabella snapped, and Deacon’s eyebrow rose.
“And your reaction convinces me of that, obviously,” Deacon replied dryly. He shrugged, set his empty place on the table. “Don’t bother with explanations. I imagine Mac is more than aware of whatever is going on between the two of you. Where did you say Shaun was?”
It was Chase who answered him. “By the lake. He said he needed to clear his head. Cassie went with him, so you might want to make some noise on your approach.”
Deacon nodded and strode toward the door, then paused and looked around. His eyes landed on Gemma, who was still making sandwiches and stacking them on a serving plate. “Gemma? Come here.”
Her head came up, a question in her eyes, and he jerked his head, letting his wolf show in his eyes. “Come over here for a minute.”
He watched as she battled against his demand, then scowled, gave in and crossed the room to stand in front of him.
“I wish you’d stop doing that.”
“The more often I do it, the more often you can fight against it and the more chance there is of you winning.” He tapped a finger against her forehead gently. “Practising mental defence is as important as physical.”
“Whatever,” she sighed.
“Come closer.”
“What for?”
His lips quirked into a
smile. “Humour me.”
She took another step closer and angled her head back to look up at him. “Now what?”
“I’m so glad you asked me that,” he said, and dipped his head so his mouth was almost touching hers. “Now I want you to kiss me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you want to? And because I asked so nicely?”
“You didn’t ask me at all.”
He could see her eyes darkening, could smell her scent changing, and smiled. “Didn’t I? Let me fix that, then,” his voice dropped. “Will you kiss me goodbye, Starshine?”
“You’re only going to the lake.” Her protest was halfhearted.
He inched closer. “But who knows what might happen between here and there. There might be dangerous rabbits hiding in the trees.”
She laughed, as he’d hoped, and closed the small gap to press her lips to his in a quick chaste kiss.
“Gemma, Gemma, Gemma,” he murmured. “We’re beyond that now. After last night that’s no longer how this works.”
“How does it work then?” Her husky whisper and the gleam of dark blue eyes from beneath thick lashes sent a shot of lust straight to his groin.
He slowly reached out and circled her wrists with his fingers, lifted her hands and hooked them around his neck. “Hold on like you mean it, Starshine,” he whispered and skimmed his lips along the curve of her cheek. “Well?”
He thought, for a second, she would pull away. She tensed, eased back, and then her mouth was on his – hot, firm, and oh so tempting.
Deacon held still, let Gemma control the kiss, waited for her tongue to slide along his lips seeking entrance, before he responded. And even then, he kept a firm grip on his urge to take control, on his wolf’s desire to make its claim. He waited … waited … until her body swayed forward and her arms tightened around his neck. When her fingers speared into his hair, he couldn’t hold back any longer and wrapped his arms around her waist and took over.