by Cari Quinn
“You’re so wet,” he said on a low voice. “I don’t want it to end. I want it to last.”
“If it lasts any longer, I’m not going to be able to talk later.”
“Good.”
She flashed wide blue eyes at him, closing her thighs around his wrist. “If you don’t finish me off, I’m going to stab you with a pen.”
“Such violence, Miss Pruitt.”
The laugh was as close to evil as he’d ever heard as she lifted her hips to get the friction she wanted. Control snapping, he reached deeper, curling the tips of his fingers into her as he thrust in and out of her.
“Yes. Sweet freaking Pete, yes,” she shouted.
“I can’t wait until that’s my cock.”
She bowed up. “I’m going to die. I swear to God, sex with you is going to kill me if it’s this good.”
He groaned out a laugh as she talked her way through her release. The gush of wetness and the swollen center of her made it hard to find her clit, but he did. And he fucked her as completely as he could with his hand.
She hit the release for her seat and slammed back, letting him get inside her even deeper. He kept glancing at the highway, but couldn’t peel his eyes off of her. Tremors and the light little shivers from her thighs made him insane.
Her thighs and hands clamped around his hand, and still he couldn’t stop himself from prolonging her pleasure. And then finally, the sweet sound of his name was more sob than words.
She curled onto her side with his two fingers still inside her as her breathing slowed, then returned to normal.
“Jesus, I hope I didn’t blast past our exit.”
“Who cares,” she mumbled into the seat cushion.
He laughed down at her as the traffic slowed to a crawl again. Her cheeks were fiery pink, and she’d scraped her bottom lip to a fullness he was a little jealous of.
He wanted on that mouth, to feel her cries inside him. She suddenly straightened her seat and as if she could read his mind she leaned over, pressed her lips against his neck and breathed him in.
“I’m not sure what to do with you,” she said softly.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I have a few suggestions.”
She giggled into his skin and the buzz of her lips made his damn eyes cross. From mindless to comfort in the space of a moment. How the hell was he not going to fall in love with this woman?
How far gone was he already?
When she brushed her nose along his earlobe, he realized the ratios were definitely not in his favor. So fucking far gone.
She sat back on her side of the car and nodded toward the exit. “Is that what we’re looking for?”
He flicked the turn signal. “That’s the one.”
She frowned when a whistle pealed from her phone. She swiped it to life and swore then leaned forward. “That doesn’t look good.”
While they’d been more than a little engrossed in one another, the steel gray clouds that they’d driven out of this morning on the bus seemed to have made their appearance in Dallas.
“Strong storm advisory is in effect.”
“Just a summer storm, right?” he asked.
“Not sure. Storms are unpredictable in August. They can just be a quick flash of rain or they can take out a bridge.”
“I’m sure it’s more like a little rain. You gonna melt, Chef?”
She punched his arm.
But the clouds became more ominous as they got closer to the park. He paid the attendant at the parking gate and found a spot. Rounding the car to open her door, he helped her out. But instead of stepping back, he caged her against the open door and brushed his mouth over hers.
She rose onto her toes and met him kiss for kiss. It was a sweet taste this time, not the same intensity from the bus or the brain-frying orgasm from the car.
This was just Harper and her sugar and cinnamon taste. When she sighed into his mouth, he finally broke the kiss with a smile. “Any ideas where you want to hide the tickets?”
She tapped her finger over the stubble at his chin. “The golf course, of course.”
“Of course.” He stepped back and took her hand. The winding path that bordered the swanky golf course was dotted with towering trees and improbably green grass for the heat of Dallas’s summer. Especially since he felt crispy fried just from being under the scorching sun.
She jogged ahead, dragging him behind her for once. But instead of detangling their hands, she laced her fingers with his. The deeper they went into the wooded area, the darker the sky got and Deacon wondered if this might be a bad idea.
Being from Texas, he knew just how vicious a storm could be, but he didn’t want to lose any time with her.
“Okay, which hole?”
He stopped dead. “Pardon?”
She turned around and laughed. “The golf course, perv.”
“Right.”
Her giggle was infectious as she dragged him into a light jog. “We need to make it easy to get to. Can’t make your scavenger people actually buy time for a round of golf.”
“True.” He looked around. They needed to find something that was technically on the park’s land so there wouldn’t be any issues with trespassing. The first fat drop of rain slid down his neck as the sky boomed with thunder.
“Yeah, trees and thunder. Bad plan.”
“Very bad,” he agreed. “Shit, the ticket vouchers are going to get wet.”
Harper dug into her bag. She held up a baggie with two Fig Newtons in it. She handed him one and stuck the other in her mouth. “Problem solved.” She took the scavenger hunt ticket out of his hand and slid it into the miniature Ziploc.
She whirled around and pointed at a vibrant patch of purple flowers in a sea of white. “There.”
“Perfect.”
“Good, because the heavens are just about to open up, I think.”
The canopy of trees above them shielded them a little, but the pelting rain seared through regardless. Hell, even the rain was warm. He followed her to the cluster of flowers and crouched in front of the purple one. Tucking it in enough that it wouldn’t blow away, he then slid his phone out of his pocket and gave a clue.
“Can you tell what hole on the course we’re near?”
She slid her hand out of his and ran into the clearing. She spun around as rain showered down on her tanned skin. Her blue tank immediately turned dark, and water beaded up on her skin. She pushed the bangs out of her eyes and grinned so hugely that he actually froze.
She was so goddamn beautiful. So full of life and fun when she put work aside. She cupped her hand over her eyes as the rain pelted them harder. “Fourteen,” she yelled back at him.
Within the space of a moment, the rain turned to sheets and the wind kicked up. He couldn’t see more than three feet in front of him. “Harper!” His voice was swallowed by the wind.
He ran toward where she’d been just moments ago and found only the open clearing. He yelled her name again, but the wind swallowed his voice and spat out more rain.
Visibility was non-existent, and the first licks of panic burned the back of his neck. The crack of lightning and thunder on top of one another spurned him into moving. Into the trees didn’t seem like a smart idea, but the clearing pretty much made him a damn good target for lightning.
Lesser of two evils wasn’t even an option at that point. The wind died for a moment and he heard a voice. He turned and saw a small shed through the streaking rain. Harper was waving frantically from the door.
Relief followed by a shiver spurned him forward. Puddles formed on the pathway and sloshed over his shoes. Flash flooding would be imminent and they had a shed to look forward to.
Scavenger hunt, his goddamn ass. He skidded on the muddy grass. The wind howled again, dumping stinging rain down his back. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered and grabbed for the door.
“Get in here!” Harper hauled him inside, but he had to duck down or he’d crack his damn skull on the roof.
/> “How the hell did you see this?”
“I saw it when I got to the clearing on the golf course.”
He dug his phone out of his pants and flicked on the torch setting. Three rakes and a leaf blower were stuffed in one corner, and the bags of mulch and soil lining the wall gave the room its earthy scent. “Thank you, landscapers on the golf course.”
“No kidding.”
The shed was little more than four walls and a roof, set on cinderblocks, but it was a good place to wait out the worst of the storm. With the visibility as poor as it was, they’d end up wandering around the woods and never finding their car.
He slicked his hair back and shined the light on Harper. “You good?”
“Drenched to the skin, but fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her arms. “Gotta love Texas.”
Pulling her in, he wrapped his arms around her. “It’ll be over soon.”
“No offense, but the wet shirt isn’t killing my chill.”
“Sorry.” He leaned back enough to tug his shirt over his head and wrung it out before hanging it off one of the rake handles. “You should probably take your shirt off, too.”
“I should, huh?”
“You know, skin on skin contact will help you warm up faster.”
“Is that right?”
“I did get my merit badge in surviving hypothermia.”
She snorted. “I’m not entirely sure you’re kidding.” But she tugged at the hem of her shirt and flipped it off. The material was swollen with rain and dripped all over the floor even before she wrung it out. She turned to hang it on another handle and Deacon swallowed a groan.
Her back was long and elegant. The dim gray light from the doll-sized windows highlighted the dip of her spine and the curve of shadow that disappeared into her little shorts. When she faced him again, he reached for her without thought.
He grazed the back of his knuckle over the rounded breasts that spilled from her bra. He met her gaze, crowding into her space as he molded his palms around the sides of each breast. He dragged his thumb over the centers, gratified to feel each nipple bead up for his touch.
He peeled down the cup and exposed the pale pink of her nipple. He watched her as he curled his tongue around one tight tip. God, her skin was so delicate next to the bright yellow. She tasted of rain and the chill from the wind. Thunder cracked, and the ground shook. He didn’t care if the little shed came down around their ears. He was going to finally cut through this gut-gnawing tension between them.
Her palms slid over his belly, her fingers digging into his waistband before flicking the button of his pants open. She broke their gaze first, her attention on getting inside his boxers.
He stepped back. He was so fucking hot from the car and from the days of frustration that all it would take was her slim, strong hand around his cock to set him off.
And he didn’t want to spill his cum outside again. Even her sweet mouth wouldn’t be enough now. He wanted to feel her clasp around him. Even a damn condom seemed like too much of a barrier, but it would have to do.
He gently scraped his fingernails down her sides to her shorts and unbuttoned them so he could drag her panties and denim over her ass. The air was heavy with the storm and their sweat. The wind should have brought coolness, but he could already tell there would be no break in the humidity with this storm.
Sweat and rain glistened on her tanned flesh. He crouched before her and licked it off her belly before he followed the natural vee of her flesh to her tight little slit.
She pushed his hair out of his eyes as his tongue speared into her. So goddamn wet. From his touch, from the moment they were living in now, from the car, and from the denial they’d both been suffering through the last few days.
Nine days.
Nine days, and he was mad for her.
Nine days, and he was pretty sure madness wasn’t the only thing taking a hold of him. He pushed that terrifying thought aside and concentrated on the first bloom of her taste on his tongue.
He opened his mouth over her, carving out her flesh to taste every last drop of her slickness and yet she always yielded more. He lifted her thigh to his shoulder and the sting of her calf pressing against his healing back only heightened his need to drag everything out of her.
Her nails bit into his shoulder as he slid two fingers in and curved up into her clasping flesh. “Yes,” he moaned against her thigh. The rich scent of rain and Harper blended into something he wasn’t sure he could live without. “Come for me, Harper. Come around my mouth before I fuck you.”
He held onto her waist for balance and sawed his fingers into her as he ate every bit of her searing pleasure. She screamed over the storm, her broken cries hammering his need into brittle shards.
When he couldn’t bear it a moment longer, he stood and hooked her legs around his waist. He slammed her against the wall. Too hard—he forgot his strength. “I’m sorry,” he gasped and eased off of her.
Her heels dug into his ass. “Oh no, you don’t. Harder. I want you to drill me into this goddamn wall.”
He swore and dug into his pocket. Taking care of the condom, he slid the head of his cock along her pussy. He looked down between them. He’d been waiting to get inside her sweet body for what felt like forever, but now he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of the feeling.
What if he got inside her and couldn’t live without her?
Because he knew it was going to feel beyond amazing. The idea of disappointment wasn’t the problem. He knew this was going to be perfection as surely as he knew the way a song went together.
Cupping the back of her head, he met her gaze and slowly slid inside of her.
The room fuzzed at the edges, and the storm died away. He was in a cocoon of Harper—her scent, her clasping body, and the knowledge that she now held a piece of him.
Her head tipped back and her nails scored over his shoulders and down his biceps. “Deacon,” she cried out. “Please.”
This first moment inside her trumped every other point in time. Hot, tight, soft, and made for him—she was everything. When she slammed the side of her fist into his arm, he finally moved. The clasp of her body strangled his cock in pleasure and pain.
He searched for anything to calm the thrashing need. His fingers dug into her hips as he powered into her again and again. The fringes of his brain reminded him that they were a unit and this was about her as much as it was about him.
But all he could focus on was how she felt around him. Like heaven and hell were pulling at him. Take more, give more, love more. Life infused around him and through him as her sweet body gave and softened for him. He dragged his teeth over the column of her throat and found her ear.
Her name was a whispered plea, and her legs tightened around him. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder and hung on. The tremors inside him seemed to echo within her. She fisted his hair, and he had to let go.
There could only be one first, but it wouldn’t be the last. And as his spine flamed with sweat and exertion, he came harder than he could ever remember.
The world rushed in on him. Too loud, too invasive, and too based in reality. Her breath was coming too fast and her cry of release seared his eardrums.
So fucking worth it.
He slumped to his knees taking her with him into the bags of rock salt that lined this side of the shed. Braced on the wall, he felt it groan under their combined weight. “Shit,” he muttered and tried to balance back on his feet again, but she held him tight.
“Not yet.” Her shaky whisper branded the moment in his memory. “I can’t let you go yet.”
He smiled into her neck. “You broke me.”
“You? I’m the one that’s going to have these slats permanently etched into my back.” She smiled up at him. “Does that mean I get my merit badge in fucking?”
He couldn’t stop the bark of laughter. “Only if I get to do the pinning ceremony.”
“You mean be there?”
; “No, I mean do the pinning.”
Her infectious laugh filled the tiny little room, and he couldn’t help but draw her to her feet and hug her tight.
Thirteen
August 20, 1:30 PM - Seriously? Cuffs?
Harper looped her arms around Deacon. The warmth of his chest and belly combated the chill of the storm. Every time the wind settled back down, humidity blanketed them.
They both watched the storm from the doorway. Belts of rain slithered across the grass rippling with the freakish wind. The sky had the green tinge that she’d seen so many times in her years on the road. Tornado weather.
Kansas, Idaho, Texas, it didn’t really matter the state. The briny air was always a warning. This time, she’d been so oblivious. Hormones and lust had been buzzing in her brain like locust. She’d even ignored the advisory that came up on her phone.
And now they were stuck in the middle of a forest of trees in the center of a city. Lightning speared the skyline accentuating the whorls of clouds.
Would there be touch downs? Or just rain that could drown as quickly as it disappeared? She understood that wildness. And letting the wind take her where it wanted.
One of the main reasons she loved the road so much was the wildness under the mask of a schedule. It fed both parts of her. And now this man that had torn through her like a summer storm was beside her, steady as a rock.
She’d seen it in his eyes.
Forever.
As if he could actually inject it into her veins like a drug or worse, with the passion between them.
She didn’t do forever. And she’d deluded herself into thinking that a fling was possible. It should be. Someone like Deacon should be a fuck and run.
Should be and actually were two different words when it came to this man, in more ways than just sex. Each day she spent with him, she saw it more.
Permanence and passion, sureness in what he was meant to do—it came so easy for him. The industry would test him, it was testing him already. She could see it in the worry lines that dug grooves between his brows.
But he was built to deal with them. He had the patience of a monk when it came to getting what he wanted. And she knew he’d wait her out, thinking he could get around her. Thinking he knew what was best for them.
