“Yes.” The word came out with her next breath, before she could swallow it down.
His gaze blazed, the muscles under her hands jumping. His thrusts intensified, still at the same slow pace, but deeper, harder. “I love the way your lips part when I push inside, the way your breath hitches,” he rasped.
Oh, God. He was killing her.
He continued to make love to her, never taking his eyes off her, following the cues of her body to take her higher.
She shivered and closed her eyes against all that intensity staring down at her.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Helpless to do anything but obey at this point, she lifted her lids.
“I want you to see what you do to me. How good you make me feel.” He reached down and cupped her ass, tilting her hips up, then thrust back in, grinding against her. She sobbed, so close, so damn close. “Only you make me feel this way, Alex, this hungry, this possessive.” He repeated the slow thrust and grind and the pressure increased. “You make me crazy, sweetheart. Wild. Only you do that to me. No one else.”
His abs tightened as he bent to suck the bar piercing her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, then thrust deep and held her there. One more tug on her nipple, and she shattered, hard. When he lifted up, covering her body, she hung on tight, sinking her teeth into the firm muscle of his shoulder to stop from screaming. He started to move then, no more slow torture; now he pounded into her, arms locked around her, holding her immobile. All she could do was take it, lie there and absorb the full power of his lust. Lost in the sound of his grunts of pleasure, the rough, tender words he rasped against her ear, drawing out her own orgasm, she clung to him in return, never wanting him to let her go.
Then with a shout he came hard inside her, big body tensing and shaking through his release.
Collapsing over her, he pressed her into the now warm, unyielding steel at her back, but she didn’t care. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. She smoothed her hands over his wide shoulders as he glided in and out of her slow and easy, and she knew there would be no returning from this. She was completely lost to him, always had been. And for the first time in her life, she wanted to take a risk on loving someone, despite the possibility of losing him.
She blinked hard when her eyes started to sting and swallowed against the lump in her throat when it threatened to escape in a painful sob.
Damn you, Deacon. Damn you for making me love you.
…
Alex miraculously found a parking spot right outside Deacon’s apartment building. Probably because the sun was barely up.
She’d gotten up early—they had another busy day ahead, and she wanted to talk to him before it was time to open the garage.
Nerves flipped around in her belly. This was a stupid idea, wasn’t it? Maybe she’d lost her mind.
She hadn’t been thinking straight, not since Deacon had carried her upstairs and tucked her in bed after making love to her.
I hate leaving you, Alex. I know I’ll see you in a few hours, but I already miss you.
He’d whispered the words against her hair, kissed her, then left. She’d hated it, too. But it was too risky for him to stay, and they both knew it. Still, when she’d watched him walk out the door, she’d had to bite her lip so she didn’t beg him to stay.
Last night she realized she wanted to be more than his fuck buddy, more than an arrangement. A man didn’t look at a woman like Deacon looked at her, didn’t make slow, sweet love to a woman like he had her, and not care about that woman, right?
Only you make me feel this way, Alex, this hungry, this possessive.
She shivered at the memory. He’d claimed her last night. She’d felt it in every fiber of her being. Everything had changed, everything. She had no idea what it meant going forward. Deacon had made it clear at the beginning he didn’t want a relationship, that what they had going on had a use-by date. Did he still feel that way after last night?
No. She couldn’t believe it. He made sure she felt wanted, desired…important.
Alex was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. There was too much at stake—her heart, for one. Her friendship with his sisters and their garage for another. If there was a chance for them, if he wanted the same thing she did, they needed to forget about their arrangement and just…be together.
Was she really going to do this? What choice did she have? She couldn’t go on like this. She’d been stupid, naive to think she could.
Blowing out a deep breath, she reached over and grabbed the coffees she’d bought on the way, climbed out of her Viper, and headed into the building. The doorman was already at his post and gave her a warm smile when he opened up for her. “Hey, Harold.”
He tipped his hat and smiled. “Morning, miss.”
Blood was pounding through her veins, and her knees felt weak and shaky as she crossed the floor. This was a huge risk. God, what if she was wrong? What if he didn’t feel the same way she did? She shook her head, fought the self-doubt back. Deke had changed over the years. No, he wasn’t the same boy she’d first fallen for. He was a man. The type of man who went after what he wanted ruthlessly. He didn’t let anyone get in his way. Well, she could learn a thing or two from him in that respect.
And despite it all, despite the suits, the flashy cars, and the expensive apartment, he was still her Deke. He was still in there. He’d shown himself time and again over the last couple weeks. That tender, caring, protective side was still in there under the hard exterior, and she had to believe he couldn’t do what they were doing and not feel something for her other than lust.
The elevator door opened, and a guy strode out. It was the same guy from the first night she’d been here, the night she’d bolted from Deacon’s apartment as soon as he’d fallen asleep. Sitting in the foyer, barefoot and more than likely looking like a woman who’d recently been screwing her brains out.
Averting her gaze, she tried to slip past, but he touched her arm. “Hey, I know you, right? You were here a couple weeks ago? I remember the ink.” His gaze darted to her arm, to the rose tattoo poking out from under her sleeve.
She tensed. “And?”
“And you were hard to miss.” The guy moved in close, and she had no choice but to take a step back or he’d be all up in her personal space. “I was hoping I’d see you again. Can I have a word?”
“Nope. I have somewhere to be.” She went to move past again, but he took the drinks from her hands and placed them on the unmanned reception desk near the elevator. “What the hell?”
He straightened his tie and gave her a lopsided grin. “I think you might be interested in what I have to say. I’ve been looking for someone in your line of business, actually, but haven’t found the right fit, so to speak. I think you and I might get on just fine.”
Unease turned to relief, then excitement. Deacon must have told him about West Restoration, which meant he obviously knew the guy. She shrugged off the way her creep-o-meter was wailing and joined him by the reception desk. “Look, I know the competition in this city is fierce, but I promise you won’t be disappointed. I’ve never had a dissatisfied customer. In fact, they always come back.” She was no Rusty when it came to this stuff—that woman had the gift of gab—but she was no slouch.
His gaze dropped to her breasts, and she automatically crossed her arms. Maybe he just liked Iron Maiden? The T-shirt was old and fitted. She glanced down and her face heated when she realized crossing her arms caused the fabric to cling and show off the outline of her barbell.
“God, that’s so sexy. Damn.” He moved closer. “What’s your rate, sweetheart?”
Her ease vanished, and her empty stomach churned. “It depends on what you want done,” she answered cautiously.
“I want a whole night. Maybe a regular thing? I get the feeling one night with you wouldn’t be enough. Deacon West keeps coming back for more, so you must be worth whatever your fee is.”