“May I come in?” she asked, looking up at him through thick, golden lashes.
His tongue snaked out over his lips as he nodded. “Sure.” He took a step back, wondering what could’ve broken the engagement and driven Cecelia back into his arms, but before he could ask, she was on him again.
This time he had no reason to stop her. They stumbled back through the doorway, and he kicked it shut behind them. Without hesitation, he lifted Cecelia and started carrying her toward the bedroom. She clung to him, unwilling to separate her lips from his as he navigated through the house.
When they reached his bedroom, he sat her gently down at the edge of his king-size bed. Cecelia immediately started undoing his belt, sliding it from his jeans and tossing it to the floor. There was no question that this was what she wanted. And frankly, if he were being honest with himself, it was what he wanted, too.
He certainly didn’t expect it to be dropped into his lap like this, but only a fool would ask questions instead of accepting the gift he’d been given. As she started to unbutton his pants, he reached for her hand and pulled it away.
“I’ve got this,” he said.
Cecelia just smiled and began to undo her own blouse, button by button, exposing more of the creamy, porcelain skin he’d always admired. She was one of the few women he’d ever met who truly had a flawless complexion. There were no freckles, no moles—not even a scar. The Morgans would never allow their precious daughter to be injured. Her skin was like that of a china doll—smooth...even...perfect.
He remembered running his hands over it years ago and it feeling like silk against the rough, calloused palms he’d earned from working on cars. As she slipped her blouse off her shoulders and exposed the ivory satin of her bra, he ached to touch it and the flesh beneath it.
Her breasts nearly overflowed the cups as she breathed hard with wanting him. He took a step back as she stood to unzip her pencil skirt. The fabric slid over her ample hips and pooled at her feet. The sight of her nearly nude stole his breath away. She was just as beautiful and perfect as he remembered. Only now, she was a fully grown woman with all the curves that a man at his age could finally appreciate. As a teenager, Cecelia had been his first, and he’d hardly known what he was doing. He wouldn’t have been able to handle a woman like Cecelia back then.
Cecelia’s steely-gray eyes were fixed on him as she reached behind herself and unlatched her bra. Her breasts spilled free, revealing tight, strawberry-pink tips that were just as he remembered them. Thirteen years was too long to wait, and he couldn’t resist reaching out to cup them in his hands. The hard peaks of her nipples pressed into his palms as he squeezed and massaged her sensitive flesh.
Cecelia sighed with contentment, leaned into his touch, tipped her head back and shook her blond waves over her shoulders. “Yes,” she whispered. “I need your touch, Deacon. I need it now more than ever.”
Deacon didn’t respond. Instead, he dipped his head and took one of her tight buds into his mouth. He teased at it with his tongue until Cecelia was gasping and writhing against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her body tight against his, and then slipped one hand beneath her silky ivory panties.
He was surprised to find her skin completely bare and smooth there, providing no barrier for his fingers to slip between her sensitive folds and stroke her center. Cecelia gasped and her hips bucked against his hand, but he didn’t stop. Instead he drew harder on her nipple, stroking her again and again until she came apart in his arms.
Cecelia cried out and clawed at his shoulders, more wild and passionate beneath him than she’d ever let herself be. She had gotten in touch with her sexuality, and he was pleased to be benefiting from it.
When her body stilled and her cries subsided, he lowered her gently onto the bed, laying her back against the brocade comforter. She watched beneath hooded eyes as he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them off, along with the rest of his clothing. She watched him with appreciation as he sought out a condom from the nightstand and returned to where her body was sprawled across his mattress. He set the condom beside her on the bed, using both hands to grasp her panties and slide the fabric over her hips and down her legs.
With her completely exposed in front of him, Deacon could only shake his head in wonder. How had he gotten to this place tonight? He had anticipated grilling a steak on the back porch, drinking a few beers and watching the news. Instead, he would gladly go without his dinner and feast on Cecelia instead.
He opened the condom and rolled it down his length and then crawled onto the bed, positioning himself between her still-quivering thighs.
This was the moment he’d waited for, fantasized about, since the day he and Cecelia had parted ways. The last time they’d made love had been the night before their high school graduation. He’d had no idea that the next day Cecelia would be breaking up with him. He’d had no idea that he was holding her for the last time, kissing her for the last time, until it was too late. Then, all he could do was long for what he lost and search for it in the arms of other women.
“Please,” Cecelia begged. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Deacon was more than happy to fulfill her wish. He slowly surged forward, pressing into her warmth until he was fully buried inside her. He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep control, as her tight muscles wrapped around him. She felt as good as he remembered. Maybe better.
Cecelia drew her knees up, wrapping her legs around his hips and holding him close. She reached up for him, cupping his face in her hands and drawing his mouth down to her own. He began to move, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. Her soft cries and groans of pleasure were muffled by his mouth against hers.
It didn’t take long for the tension to build up inside him. Cecelia was eager and hungry for him, and he was near his breaking point. He moved harder and faster as she clawed at his back. The sharp sting was a painful reminder that although he was enjoying this, he needed to remember who he was with. The Cecelia of his past, of his fantasies, was long gone. The woman beneath him was harder, shrewder and lacking the sweet innocence he’d always associated with her.
No matter what he tried to tell himself, Deacon knew that she was just using him. Whatever had happened between her and Chip tonight had driven her into his arms. She probably wanted to forget about everything that was going wrong in her life and was using Deacon as a reminder of when things were better. It had worked. Whatever tensions and worries she’d arrived with on his doorstep were gone.
Admittedly, his mood had improved, too. As Deacon focused on the soft warmth of her body, the stress of the day melted away and a new kind of tension took its place. Cecelia’s cries grew louder beneath him, signaling that she was close to another release. He wasn’t far behind her. Reaching between them, he stroked her center, pushing her over the edge once again.
“Deacon!” she cried out, writhing under him.
The tightening of her muscles around him drew him closer to his release. He thrust into her three more times, hard and fast, and it was done. His jaw dropped open with a silent scream as he poured himself into her willing body.
When it was over, Deacon pulled away from her and flopped back onto the bed. Staring up at his ceiling, he had a hard time believing everything that had just happened. He’d come back to Royal in the hopes that Cecelia might regret dumping him all those years ago.
This was way better.
* * *
Cecelia awoke with a start. She sat up in bed, her heart racing in her chest, as she looked around the unfamiliar room. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was, but the morning light streaming across the furniture and the shape of the man in bed beside her pieced it together.
Suddenly everything came back to her at once. She’d slept with Deacon. No, she’d thrown herself at Deacon and he’d had the courtesy not to turn her down and m
ake her look like a fool. What was she thinking, running to him like that? Of all the people in Royal?
Then again, who else did she have to turn to? She couldn’t blame last night on alcohol, but apparently the emotional trauma of her breakup with Chip was enough to dull her inhibitions. With the arrival of dawn, her good sense returned to her, and she realized that last night, however amazing, had been a terrible mistake.
She pulled back the blankets and slipped silently from the bed. She crept through the room, collecting her clothing, and carried it with her to the hallway, where she pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and got dressed.
She looked back at the door and pictured the man asleep beyond it only once before she disappeared down the hallway and out the front door. She practically held her breath until she had started her car and made it down the driveway without Deacon showing up at his front door to see her leave. It was better this way. Neither of them had to face the reality of last night and what it meant, which was a big nothing.
They were both under stress, and the sex had done its job and gotten it out of their systems. Hopefully, she would be able to finish her work at The Bellamy without this becoming a problem for her. She had enough to deal with, with the fallout of her broken engagement and the threat of Maverick looming overhead. She didn’t need any weird sexual tension buzzing between them while she was trying to pull off the design coup of the century.
Two hundred and fifty guest suites in less than a month was no laughing matter. It would take all of Cecelia’s focus and drive to make it happen. She didn’t have time for any distractions in her life, but she most certainly didn’t need Deacon, who would be at the hotel every day, reminding her of what they’d just done while she tried to work.
And yet, by the time she reached Pine Valley Estates, she was feeling guilty about running out. That was no way to treat Deacon, especially after how welcoming he’d been last night. He’d had every right to slam the door in her face when she showed up at his doorstep without warning. She was the one who had broken up with him because he wasn’t good enough for her. How dare she just show up and throw herself into his arms and expect him to welcome her? And yet he had.
Now she felt worse than ever.
She pulled her car into the garage at her château just around the time her alarm normally would wake her. There was no time for her to dwell on her mistakes. She needed to shower, change, grab a double-shot latte and get to work on her first day of The Bellamy project.
Cecelia made a stop at her office to collect the things she would need while she was working at the resort. With her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and a small file box of necessary paperwork and designs in hand, she headed back out to the receptionist’s desk.
Her secretary, Nancy, was sitting there when she arrived. “Good morning, Miss Morgan,” she said.
“Good morning, Nancy. Mr. Delgado and Mr. Chase graciously offered me an office at the hotel so I can oversee our work there over the next few weeks. Tell anyone who needs to get a hold of me that I have my cell phone and my computer.”
Nancy jotted the note on the paper pad beside her. She waved as Cecelia turned and went out the front door with her things.
By the time Cecelia arrived at The Bellamy, work was in full swing for the day. She spied her painting team’s truck, which meant that they were already laying a coat of steely-gray paint on the walls of every suite. By the time they were done, the wallpaper should have arrived and be ready to go on the accent walls and in the bathrooms.
She gathered up her things and started up the walkway into the back of the hotel, passing landscapers as they planted trees and bushes nearby. Inside she found an organized-looking woman in a headset and asked for directions. She pointed her down a hallway to the business suite of the hotel. There, she found one office designated for each of the owners, one for the hotel manager, one for the reservations manager, one for the catering manager and one empty office that had yet to be assigned. She assumed that would be hers for now.
She opened the door and turned on the light, finding a nicely appointed office space. She hadn’t been contracted to decorate the interior management rooms, but it wouldn’t be necessary. There was a desk, a rolling chair and a bookshelf. That was more than she would need while she was here. She busied herself unpacking her things and getting ready to dig into her work.
Once she was up and running, she started her day by making important calls. All of her suppliers needed to know that she had won the project bid and the pending orders needed to go forward as planned. Fabric, furniture and wallpaper were just the beginning. She had orders for paintings to go up in every single room, 250 matching small lamps to go on each nightstand, along with another 250 torch lamps for the corner behind the reading chair. Thousands of feet of carpeting needed to be ordered, in addition to ceramic tiles for the bathroom floors.
And all that needed to get here as soon as possible. As in yesterday.
Cecelia was lost in the minutiae of managing her inventory and orders when her cell phone rang. She looked down and noticed it was Naomi calling from California. She picked up the phone and answered it. “Hey, girl, how’s California?”
“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “The weather is unreal. It makes me never want to come back to Texas, but of course I will, because you and Simone would kill me if I didn’t.”
“Is everything set up for the fashion show?”
Naomi just groaned. “I really don’t want to talk about it. There’s always last-minute chaos at these things. I didn’t call to talk about all that anyway. I called because I got a text about you and Chip breaking up yesterday. Is that true?”
Cecelia had been hoping it would take longer for the news to get out, but apparently it was already making Royal’s gossip rounds. “Yes, we’ve broken up, but really it’s for the best. I think we just had different ideas of what our future was going to be.”
“Hmm. So it didn’t have anything to do with a certain someone coming back to town?”
Cecelia rolled her eyes. Simone must’ve told her about her run-in with Deacon. “No, it had nothing to do with him. I honestly doubt Chip even knows he’s here yet. I didn’t mention it.”
“So what set all this off?”
She hesitated. She knew that she would eventually tell Naomi and Simone about her little blackmail problem, but now wasn’t the time. “It was bound to happen eventually. Things just boiled over at dinner last night, so we called off the engagement. I’ll tell you and Simone more about it when you get home. I wish you two were here.”
“I’m so sorry that all this happened while we were gone, Cece. You’ve broken off your engagement and your two best friends aren’t there to commiserate with you. That really sucks. I promise that when we get back, we will get together for some wine, a couple cartons of Ben & Jerry’s and some good girl time. You’ll put this whole thing behind you before you know it.”
That sounded great. Cecelia really needed her friends to talk to. Had they been in town last night, perhaps she wouldn’t have found herself in Deacon’s bed.
“Good luck with the show,” Cecelia said.
“Thank you. Hang in there. Oh, and don’t forget that Wes and Isabelle’s engagement party is coming up. You’re not getting out of it, you know.”
Oh, she knew. Cecelia said goodbye and got off the phone. She needed to remember to pick up a gift for that. Frankly, she had been surprised to receive the invitation, but Isabelle was the kind of woman who wanted to be friends with everybody, even the girl who had spilled the beans about her secret daughter and upended her whole life.
She had RSVP’d two weeks ago, but now she was regretting it. She didn’t really want to stroll into the Texas Cattleman’s Club and have to face everybody after the breakup. More than a few people there would get a sick amount of pleasure from her misfortune. But she said she w
ould go, so she would go.
Cecelia had just turned back to her computer when she heard a tap at the door. She looked up and immediately felt a surge of panic run through her. Deacon was standing in her doorway, a look of expectation and irritation on his face. She’d been hoping, in vain, apparently, that he would be too busy to come looking for her this morning. “Good morning, Mr. Chase. What can I do for you?”
Deacon arched a curious brow at her and just shook his head. “So this is how it’s going to be, huh? It never happened?”
Cecelia smiled, putting on her most businesslike face as she tried to ignore the rough stubble on his jaw that she’d brushed her lips across only hours earlier. Her fingers tingled with the memory of running through his golden-blond hair and pulling him close to her. “I always like to keep things professional in the workplace.”
“And later, when we’re not in the workplace?” he asked.
“There’s not much to say about last night, now or later, except that I apologize for the way I acted. It was inappropriate of me to burden you with my problems. After Chip broke off the engagement, I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do. I made the wrong choice, and I’m sorry.”
Deacon’s green-gold gaze flickered over her face, studying her as though he could see the truth there. His jaw tightened, and finally he looked away. “The head of your painting crew is looking for you. He’s waiting in the lobby.”
Cecelia watched as Deacon turned and disappeared from her doorway without another word. The warm, attentive Deacon from last night was gone, leaving only the cold businessman behind. She hated that it had to be that way, and she wished he could understand. Now, more than ever, she needed his warmth and his compassion. All too soon, the rest of Royal would be turning their backs on her. But there was too much history between them, too many memories and emotions to cloud the present. She knew she had to put up a wall to protect her business and her reputation.
Expecting the Billionaire's Baby Page 5
