Goddammit. “No. Listen to me—”
Emily’s face crumpled. “Are you…are you talking to her?”
After the way things had been left between them, this was the last thing he needed. Alex barely trusted him as it was. With the scratches and the confrontation in the store… She’d jump to the wrong conclusion without doubt. His little viper would use it as another way to protect herself, an excuse to push him away, and he couldn’t have that. He was doing a good enough job of that on his own.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.” He wanted to tell her about Emily—all of it, the lies, the betrayal—but the memory of his ex sitting in the bathtub the day after he’d found her in bed with another man, a blade to her wrist and swearing she’d cut her vein wide open if he exposed her, if he told her family and friends what she’d done to keep him—stopped him cold. She couldn’t bear the humiliation. All she had left was her position in society. She’d lost him, if she lost that, too…
He couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk telling anyone, not even Alex.
Alex cleared her throat. “Yeah, sure.”
Dread slammed him hard. “This morning, I…” He glanced up at Emily, and those cold blue eyes were locked on him. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Forget it, Deacon. I have,” Alex said, then hung up.
…
Alex rolled an old tire around the side of the garage to stash behind the building. Really, this job could wait till later, but she needed a minute. Rusty had been watching her all damn day, and Piper just flat-out wouldn’t leave her alone. They weren’t blind. They knew something was up. Something she could never tell them.
And being a crabby bitch all day hadn’t helped, either.
I’ll talk to you soon, okay?
Those words kept running through her mind. If that wasn’t a kiss-off, she didn’t know what was. One minute he missed her, couldn’t get enough of her, the next, she was finding lipstick-stained shirts in his trash and he couldn’t get away fast enough. She shoved down the stab of pain. Her feelings didn’t matter in all this. He’d made that clear from the start.
All that mattered now was what this meant for West Restoration.
Lifting the tire, she stacked it on top of the others, then turned to leave and slammed up against a hard chest.
She opened her mouth to scream bloody murder, but a hand slapped over her mouth—and Deacon filled her vision. “It’s just me.”
She yanked his fingers away. “What do you think you’re doing?” Then without conscious thought, her gaze moved over him, ate up every inch of his body. It had only been a day, but it felt like forever. So many emotions pounded through her, making her dizzy. She didn’t know whether to punch him or kiss the living daylights out of him.
“I had to come and see you.” He moved in, crowded her, pressed her into the warm steel wall of the garage at her back. “Last night…something came up.”
His back muscles tensed under her hands, and she realized she’d wrapped herself around him instinctively. That brought her up short.
Wise the hell up, Alex.
His dark gaze zeroed in on her mouth. If he kissed her right now, she’d be lost. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You’ve been busy with your suit buddies, whatever.” She shoved at his chest to get some space and shrugged. “Hey, I get it. Whores and five-star restaurants don’t mix, right?”
Suddenly his hands were on her ass, and she was up against the wall. He shoved her higher, so they were eye level, and that big hard body pressed into hers. His solid thighs were wedged between hers, forcing her to open for him, and he ground the hard ridge of his erection against her center. The delicious pressure had her crying out. Then he stepped back from the wall suddenly, taking her with him. Just long enough for one of those big hands to leave her butt and come down again on the same cheek with a loud smack.
Heat hit her face, anger and—dammit—lust firing her blood. She fought to get free, but he just pressed into her harder.
“You’re not going anywhere. You are not running away. You will listen to me.” She turned away, but he grabbed her chin, using his hips to hold her where he wanted her, and made her look at him. “I didn’t go to the dinner meeting…something else came up. Something that kept me from you.” He cursed under his breath. “I don’t give a damn about five-star restaurants, and if you call yourself a whore once more, just once, I’ll put you over my knee.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She tried to shove him back, but he didn’t budge.
Heat flashed behind his eyes. “Try me.”
Her lower belly clenched at his words, remembering the way he’d spanked her over her kitchen table, and she barely resisted rubbing up against that scorching-hot flesh still pressed between her thighs. “So what? We’re still doing this?” She bit her lip, hated the strain in her voice, the need he had to have heard. Idiot.
He squeezed her ass. “I just need a couple days. That’s all. I have… There’s something I need to finalize, something that requires my entire focus. Believe me, no one will be happier than me when it’s over.”
She wanted to question him further, ask him about the shirt in his bathroom. Tell him what an asshole he’d been, that she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But he chose that moment to bury his face against her throat and scrape his teeth against her skin, nipping then sucking away the sting, and the words got stuck in her throat.
“I’ve been going out of my mind, baby.”
He ground against her again, and she moaned, circling her hips, reaching for the release that was already so close just from having him pressed against her. God, she was pathetic, weak. She let her head fall back against the warm steel behind her in an attempt to ground herself, to regain some common sense. But her body didn’t give a flying fuck about common sense—it cried out to have him inside her again.
“Say you’ll wait, Alex. Say that you’ll give me a couple days.”
Right then, she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone the reasons this wasn’t a good idea. All her doubts were dissolving into a puddle at his feet. Then his mouth was on hers, and she was burning from the inside out. His tongue met hers, and she felt each sensual slide, each wild thrust between her quivering thighs. The world vanished around her. Her body didn’t want anything to do with logic, it wanted Deacon, his hands, his mouth, his cock inside her.
He pulled back, kissing her jaw, her neck, that spot below her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Her chest squeezed. Yeah, she was still pissed, hurt after what happened, the way he’d acted, but maybe… “For canceling our plans. God, I missed you.”
What? She froze. His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped on her head.
No “sorry for doubting you, for believing you could be sleeping with someone else behind my back.” No “sorry for letting you walk away and making you feel like the worthless whore that asshole had mistaken you for.” And no explanation for the time he suddenly needed or why there was a shirt in his bathroom covered in pink goddamn lipstick.
She shoved his shoulders, hard. “That’s what you’re sorry for? You can’t think of anything else? Nothing?”
“Alex…”
“Jesus, you really are nothing but a self-centered asshole, aren’t you?”
He’d stilled but kept his arms around her, not letting her push him away. “Talk to me, don’t fucking push me away, and don’t shut me out.”
Shut him out? He was the one keeping secrets and acting like a jerk.
This might be nothing but a business deal to him, but it wasn’t to her, not anymore. She’d tried to keep her emotions out of it, but she’d failed, miserably. There was no point denying it anymore. She wanted what he would never give her.
Deacon had been ashamed of her. So ashamed the woman he’d been seen out with over the last two weeks had been pegged as some high-class call girl that he’d canceled their dinner plans to avoid more embarrassment. He could give her all the excuses he wanted, but that was the real reason. To him, she would never be good enough. And that hurt. A lot.