“What do we have to eat?” she asked, pulling away from his touch and focusing on the picnic basket.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted, letting the conversation drop for now. “The head chef put this together for me, so it’s a surprise for us both.”
Deacon opened the lid and reached inside, pulling out one container after the next. There was niçoise salad with hard-boiled eggs, olives, tuna, potatoes and green beans. Another contained carrot slaw with Dijon mustard and chives. Brown parchment paper was wrapped around a bundle of savory puff pastries stuffed with multicolored grape tomatoes, goat cheese and drizzled with a reduction of balsamic vinegar and honey. Another bundle of crostini was paired with a ramekin of chicken pâté.
Finally, he pulled out a little box with a variety of French macarons for dessert. It was quite the feast, and very much the kind of picnic she’d likely never experienced back in Texas. There was more to food than barbecue, although you could never convince a Texan of that.
They spent the next hour enjoying their lunch. Together, they devoured almost every crumb. They laughed and talked as they ate, feeding each other bites and reminding him of that afternoon they shared at the Silver Saddle. Their second chance had truly started that afternoon with a tableful of tapas between them.
Now, a week later, here they were. This was not at all what Deacon had expected when he agreed to build The Bellamy with Shane and return to Royal. Sure, he knew he would see Cecelia. He figured they would converse politely and briefly over the course of their work together at the hotel, but never did he think he would touch her. Kiss her. Lose himself inside her.
He hadn’t let himself fantasize about something like that because it hadn’t seemed possible when he left Royal behind all those years ago. Then she’d shown up on his doorstep, devastated and suddenly single, and everything changed. Was it possible that he’d succeeded in being good enough for a woman like her? A part of him still couldn’t believe it.
“What is it?” Cecelia asked. “You’re staring at me. Do I have something on my face?”
Deacon shook his head. “Not at all. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be here today with a woman as amazing as you are.”
He expected the same reaction as before, but this time, when she looked into his eyes, the hard resistance there was gone. Did she finally believe him? He hoped so.
Cecelia thanked him by leaning close and pressing her lips to his. He drank her in, enjoying the taste of her, even as he slipped the sweater from her shoulders as he’d fantasized doing earlier. He tore his mouth from hers so he could kiss a path on the line of her jaw, down her throat and across the bare shoulder he’d exposed. She sighed and leaned into his touch.
“I was such a stupid little girl back then,” she said with a wistful sigh. “All this time I could’ve had you, and I ruined everything. I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for that. Can you?”
Deacon’s gaze met hers. “Yes,” he said without wavering. It was true. As long as they ended up right here, right now, who cared about the past anymore?
Reaching out, Deacon swiped all the containers and food wrappers out of his way, leaving a bare expanse of blanket to lay Cecelia down on. Her blond hair fanned across the pale blue wool as she laid back and looked up at him with her mossy, gray-green eyes and soft smile.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he hooked a finger beneath the strap of her dress and pulled it down her arm.
Her right breast was on the verge of being exposed, and his mouth watered at the sight of her pink nipple just peeking out from the edge of her dress. He didn’t answer her. Instead, he leaned down and tugged the fabric until he could draw that same nipple into his mouth. Cecelia gasped and arched her back, pressing her flesh closer to him.
“Someone could see us out here,” Cecelia said halfheartedly. She certainly wasn’t pushing him away.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, ceasing the pleasurable nibbling of her flesh.
“No,” she whispered, excitement brightening her eyes.
“Good. Let them see us. I’m about to make love to you, Cecelia, and I don’t care who knows about it.”
* * *
It had been a long time since Cecelia had made love in a public place, and even then, it had been in the back of Deacon’s old pickup truck while they parked in a secluded area by the lake on a Friday night. This wasn’t quite as private, and it was broad daylight, but there was no way she would tell him no. Not when he looked at her the way he did and said things that made her resistance as weak as her knees.
If she were being honest with herself, she couldn’t say no to Deacon, no matter what he asked of her. He was her knight in shining armor; the prince who swooped in and saved her when she felt like the walls of her life were tumbling down around her. She would give him anything he asked of her, even her heart.
She looked up at Deacon as he smiled mischievously at her and returned to feasting on her sensitive breasts. He still looked so much like the boy she remembered, even if he had grown into such a handsome and successful man. It made her think of the days and nights she’d spent in his arms and the future they’d planned together all those years ago. They’d both accomplished more than they’d ever dared to dream, but they’d both done it alone.
Cecelia didn’t want to do it alone anymore. She wanted to live her life and chase her dreams with Deacon by her side. She felt her chest tighten as she realized that Deacon didn’t need to ask for her heart. He already had it, even if he didn’t know it. She was head over heels in love with him, even after such a short time together. It made her wonder if she had ever truly stopped loving him.
Her parents had been behind the breakup. She had done what she had to do, putting her feelings for Deacon on a shelf to protect her heart, but they’d never truly gone away. She hadn’t loved anyone else. How could she? Cecelia had given her heart to him back in high school.
Deacon looked down at her, bringing her focus back to the here and now. She ran her fingers through the dark blond waves of his hair and then tugged him to her. He didn’t resist, dipping his head to kiss her. Cecelia felt the last of her resolve dissipate. She wasn’t strong enough to keep fighting her feelings and denying what they had. She was out of reasons not to love him. Out of reasons to push him away. She had to travel to the other side of the earth to feel like she was in control of her own life, but she wasn’t going back to the way she was before they left Royal.
She was in love with Deacon, and she didn’t care who knew it. It was really none of their damn business. Just as her birth mother’s identity, and the challenges she’d had to face, was none of their business. Considering all the dirt Maverick was digging up on people in Royal, the residents of her small town really needed to tend to their own gardens and stop worrying about hers.
They broke the kiss, and a sly grin curled his lips. She could feel his hand gliding up her bare leg, pushing the hem of her long cotton dress higher and higher.
“Yes,” she encouraged when his fingertips brushed along the edge of her lace panties. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Not to have him inside her. Not to have him in her life. Not to love him with all her heart and soul. She’d spent her whole life waiting for this.
Deacon removed her panties and flung them unceremoniously into the picnic basket. With his green-gold eyes solely focused on her, he traveled down her body, pressing kisses against her exposed breasts, her cotton-clad stomach and down where her panties had once been.
He parted her thighs and continued to look right at her as he leaned down to take a quick taste of her. Cecelia gasped as the bolt of pleasure shot straight through her. She was both thrilled and horrified by the idea of doing something like this outdoors in broad daylight. She wasn’t a prude, but there was something so intimate about the contact that it seemed like the kind
of thing that should be done in the semidarkness of her bedroom.
Deacon didn’t seem to care where they were. His tongue flicked across her flesh again before he began stroking her sensitive center with abandon. There was nothing Cecelia could do to stop the roller coaster she found herself on. She gripped the blanket tightly in her fists, hoping it was strong enough to hold her to the earth.
Deacon was relentless. His fingers and his tongue stroked, probed, teased and tortured her until her breath was passing through her lips in strangled sobs. Her whole body was tense from the buildup inside her. She tried to hold back, to prolong the feeling as long as she could, but she couldn’t. He stroked hard and slipped a finger inside her at the perfect moment, and she came undone. Deacon held her hips, tightly gripping them to continue his pleasurable assault even as she writhed and trembled beneath him.
“Please,” she gasped at last when she couldn’t take any more. “I can’t.”
Only then did he pull away, allowing her to finally relax into the blanket. She closed her eyes and reveled in the way her body felt fluid, almost boneless, as she lay there. Her climax had seemingly stripped her of the capacity to move. The sun was warm on her bare skin, heating the outside of her even as her insides were near the boiling point.
She was barely cognizant of Deacon hovering near her, and she pried open her eyes. He was propped on his elbow, looking down at her with mild concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’ll be better when you’re inside me,” she replied, her voice a hoarse whisper after her earlier shouts.
“I thought you might need a minute.” Deacon grinned.
“All I need is you,” Cecelia said, and she’d never meant words more in her life. He was all she wanted. In her bed, in her life, in her heart.
“If you say so.”
Cecelia shifted her hips and pulled her dress out of the way so he could position himself between her thighs. He fumbled with his pants for a moment, and then she got what she wanted. He filled her hard and fast, freezing in place once he was as deep as he could go.
She watched as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, savoring the feeling of being inside her.
“Do you know,” Deacon began without moving an inch, “you feel exactly the same way you did when you were seventeen? It takes damn near everything I have not to spill into you right now, you’re so tight.”
Instead of responding, she drew her knees up to cradle his hips and tightened her muscles around him.
“Damn,” he groaned and made an almost pained expression as he fought to keep control.
She didn’t care. He’d certainly shown no mercy when she was resisting her release, and she wasn’t about to, either. She lifted her hips, allowing him in a fraction of an inch farther.
He blew air hard through his nose and shook his head in defiance. “Not yet, Cecelia. Not yet. When I go, you’re coming with me.” Deacon bent down and pressed his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight enough that her breasts flattened against the starched cotton of his green button-down shirt.
His tongue slipped over her bottom lip and into her mouth. Slowly, he stroked her tongue with his own. Cecelia expected him to mirror the rhythm with his hips, but he was frustratingly still from the waist down.
Unable to take any more of his slow torture, she pulled away from his kiss, leaving only the tiniest fraction of an inch between his lips and hers. “If you want me, Deacon, take me. I’m yours. I always have been.”
That was as close to “I love you” as she was willing to go. At least for now. It was early to confess her feelings, and if he took the news poorly, she’d be stranded in a foreign country. No, that was a revelation best left to her hometown. He’d be more likely to believe her there as opposed to it being some kind of vacation-fling confession. Hell, she’d be more likely to believe herself there, too.
Her words had the intended reaction. Deacon buried his face in the small of her neck, planted a kiss just below her ear, then began to move inside her. It was slow and sweet at first, but before long, he was thrusting hard. The small break they’d taken allowed him to continue on, but she could tell by the tense muscles of his neck and the pinched expression on his face that it wouldn’t be long.
She wouldn’t be long, either. Despite just recovering from her orgasm only minutes earlier, she could feel another release building. She clutched Deacon’s broad back and lifted her hips for the greatest impact. That was enough to make both of them groan with renewed pleasure.
“Yes, please, Deacon,” she whispered into the summer breeze.
He didn’t need the encouragement to act. Deacon reached between them and stroked her center as he continued to thrust into her. His fingers quickly brought her to the edge, making her scream.
Cecelia quickly buried her face in his shoulder to smother the cries before they drew someone’s attention. Yet there was no way to smother the sensations running through her body. An intense wave of pleasure pulsated through every inch of her, curling her toes and making her fingertips tingle. Her heart tightened in her chest, reminding her just how different it was to make love instead of just having sex. It had been so long that she forgot there was a difference.
Her flutter of release sent Deacon over the edge. With a roar, he spilled himself into her and collapsed, pressing her into the blanket.
Cecelia held him against her bare bosom as their breathing returned to normal and their heart rates slowed together. As she held him, she looked up at the brilliant blue sky and wished this moment could last forever.
Unfortunately, the time together in France was coming to an end. It was time to fly back to Royal, debut The Bellamy and face the music.
Ten
Everything was perfect.
The hotel was flawless for its big debut. The black-tie-attired crowd filled the lobby of The Bellamy, flowing into the ballroom and out to the courtyard surrounding the pool. Even then it was almost elbow to elbow. It seemed as though the whole town had shown up to get their first peek at the resort. Unfazed by the crowd, the waiters moved expertly through guests with trays of delicious tapas and signature cocktails.
Shane and Brandee were beaming, and rightfully so. Deacon had heard nothing but compliments on the hotel so far. People loved the design, loved the food and couldn’t wait to have guests stay at The Bellamy. Even people who at one time might’ve given Deacon dirty looks as they passed on the sidewalk stopped to congratulate him.
It was exactly what Royal needed, he was told. He certainly hoped so. He and Shane had a lot of money tied up in this place, and he hoped to get it back. If he could finally coexist with the upper-class circles of Royal, that would be even better. Maybe he’d be willing to stay a little longer than he’d planned after all. Deacon wasn’t ready to make any big decisions, but the more time he spent in Royal, the easier it became. Cecelia might just talk him into becoming a Texan again before too long.
The only wrong tonight was the fact that he couldn’t find Cecelia anywhere. Things had been crazy the minute they’d touched down in Texas. Their relaxing, romantic vacation came to a quick end with the final week of preparations that needed to be made for the opening of the resort.
He’d gotten used to having her in his bed and by his side, so it pained him to have her suddenly ripped away. He didn’t even know what she was wearing tonight or if she was even here yet. He thought he saw her blonde head in the crowd, but he hadn’t managed to get his hands on her with everyone wanting to congratulate him on the hotel.
“Mr. Chase?”
Deacon turned and found Brent and Tilly Morgan, of all people, waiting to speak to him. He made a poor attempt to mask his surprise, smiling and shaking Brent’s hand although he had no idea why they wanted to talk to him. They never wanted anything to do with him before, and they
certainly had never wanted him anywhere near their daughter.
“Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, so glad you could make it. How do you like the hotel?”
“It really is lovely,” Tilly said. “Cecelia refused to give us any hints about her design, but I can see her refined aesthetic here in the lobby. I would love to see one of the guest rooms. Are any of them open to view?”
Deacon nodded, ignoring the fact that all of Tilly’s compliments about the hotel were focused on their daughter’s work and not on anything that had to do with him. “There’s a gentleman near the elevators who is escorting guests to one of her suites on the second floor if you would like to take a tour. Cecelia really did an amazing job. Shane and I had no doubts in her ability to execute our vision here for The Bellamy. You should be very proud of her.”
“Oh, we are,” a man said from over Tilly’s shoulder.
It’d been quite a few years since Deacon had laid eyes on Chip Ashford, but he instantly recognized him. Tall, blond...the perfect golden boy with an arrogant smirk and a spray-on tan. The people in Royal saw him as some sort of god, but he just looked like a game show host to Deacon—all smiles and no authenticity.
Deacon wasn’t about to let Chip’s treatment of Cecelia go unnoted after he stood there gloating about her as though they were still engaged. “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Chip. From what Cecelia tells me, you two didn’t part very well. Something about her being an imposter.”
“That was just a little misunderstanding,” Chip said dismissively. “Wasn’t it, Brent?”
Cecelia’s father immediately nodded, as though he’d almost been coached with his response. “A little bit of nothing. Cecelia tends to get upset about the silliest things and make them into a bigger deal than they are. Nothing more than a little lover’s spat.”
Tilly nodded enthusiastically. Deacon was disgusted by how they sucked up to the Ashfords. The Morgans were a fine family on their own, and frankly, it was embarrassing.
Expecting the Billionaire's Baby Page 11
