CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
September 11, 1:47 AM - Wild
Harper cracked her knuckles—again.
The bus was in full-on afterparty mode. The roof rack was decked out in purple lights and Jazz and Nick were holding court in lawn chairs. Jazz was waving around a drum stick like a scepter and lifting her red Solo cup to make decrees.
At least, that’s what it looked like from her truck.
The rest of the parking lot was dark. Audience members had long since been shuffled off by security, and the leftovers were the groupie set and a few regulars that even she recognized.
Oblivion certainly inspired a rabid fan base.
She should be over there. She only had six days left with Deacon and she’d been avoiding him. Mitch’s words pinging around her brain were bad enough, but now she could see it in his eyes every single time they were together.
He’s forever, Harper Lee.
She flexed her fists, feeling the pop of tendons and the chaser of tension climbing her arms into her shoulders. She didn’t want forever. She wasn’t ready for forever.
And yet, there she was, leaning against the Food Riot truck watching for his wide shoulders. Scanning the crowd for the stupid beanie he wore after a show no matter what the temperature was.
Her heart slammed against her chest when she spotted him. Orange beanie tonight. The stretched out hat was sliding down the back of his head thanks to the heavy waves that were always trying to escape.
The night was cool enough that he wore a plaid over-shirt. Warm brown and khaki colors accentuated his shoulders and tapered down to his waist where the tails hovered over his belt. His shoulders and arms were tight with muscle that made the fit just a little too small.
His whole body was amazing. And it was hers. She’d touched every ridge of muscle, every line of ink, and every patch of freckles.
Her nipples tightened in reaction. He’d be hot to the touch with spice on his skin from his soap. Cedar and the sea swirled in her memory. She couldn’t ever get enough of breathing him in.
And she was across the damn parking lot when she could be wrapped around him like a vine. He liked when she climbed on him and showed him how much she wanted him.
He waved at a trio of women that had gotten signatures on whatever it was they were holding. They were giggling with each other because of him. Because of her man.
No.
Yes.
She shut her eyes to block out the longing that clung to her skin like smoke. When she opened them again, he was climbing on the bus. And her feet were carrying her across the parking lot.
Six days.
Not enough time.
She waved at Jazz, who was deep in conversation with the girls that had just spoken to Deacon. Real fans, not just the kind that wanted to get on the bus.
Oh, what, like you?
She ignored the voice in her head, taking the stairs two at a time. The bus was dim, leaving only the runway lights on at the front. But it was enough to see that someone was on the couch.
Two someones.
A woman arched back, a groan filling the main cabin. Bare breasts swayed in time to the avid thrust of her hips. For a moment her heart stopped.
Not Deacon.
The guy was too small to be Deacon.
When she flew down the aisle she heard Simon’s dark laugh and the woman’s obvious enjoyment of her ride on the lead singer of Oblivion.
Deacon’s bunk curtain was shut, but she could see the faint glow of light at the edges and hear the tinny overflow of music from his headphones. Before she could think better about it, she kicked out of her sandals and let her jeans puddle around her ankles leaving only a stretched out tanktop.
She peeled back the Velcro to see him sprawled out on his back, arm over his head reading from his Kindle, easy as you please. Was she the only one dying for his touch? Was she the only one wound up with no way to find a release valve?
He dropped his arm, turning those wild forest eyes on her. His chest was bare, the sheet low on his hips to show off a pair of soft boxers.
Soft and inviting, Deacon was there for the taking. She wanted the bold and crazy half of him that had been in the shed that day in Dallas. She didn’t want to think about the emotions she saw barely banked in his gaze. Because she knew they mirrored her own.
“I didn’t think I was going to see you tonight.”
She didn’t comment. Instead, she took his e-reader, tucked it into the little cubby above his head, and tugged on his headphones until music filled the bunk. At least this part echoed what she was feeling inside. Driving drums and soaring guitars matched the blood that raced inside her, that felt like it was going to burst out of her.
For once, she wanted space instead of their little cocoon. She wanted to ride him until the buzz under her skin was released and her brain could reengage.
She sealed her mouth over his and thrust her tongue inside his mouth. Her nails bit into his shoulders as her hips ground against his thigh.
“Harper—”
She cut him off with a scrape of teeth along his lower lip and across his jaw until she got to his ear. “I need you, Deacon. I need not to think, not to remember how many days we have left, not to analyze.”
He fisted his hand into the back of her hair and dragged her back until their gazes met. His chest heaved, and his eyes blazed for her.
She dug in deeper along the ropey muscles of his shoulder. “I need—” She wasn’t sure how to say it. She sawed her teeth over her bottom lip until she felt the answering throb of blood rushing under her skin.
His other hand gripped her waist, and slowly eased. He was always so gentle with her and she loved that part of him, but there was no gentleness inside her tonight. There was only a terrifying need to gorge herself on him.
And she wanted the wild Deacon.
He dragged her mouth back to his as he cupped her breast. His other hand moved from her hair down to her waist and into her panties. He tucked himself into the wall and turned her so she lined up with him, her back to his front.
She ground her ass against him restlessly. Spooning was her favorite thing to do with him, but not right now. She tried to roll over but he stopped her, his huge hand splaying across her belly.
He dragged her up until his chin was tucked into the space between her neck and shoulder. With his other hand, he tugged on her nipples. He twisted and plucked at them until the burn of the ribbed tanktop gave her the first taste of the less careful Deacon.
She cried out as one pinch came a hairs breadth away from pain. Then his palm slid lower and those long, elegant fingers delved inside her panties.
He tugged at them and she quickly helped to get them off. With his one hand playing with her breasts and the other softly opening her, she was at a loss.
She moaned his name. He must have heard the complaint in it. And he laughed.
She twisted on top of him, the back of her thighs brushing his hardness. He held her tighter, thrusting two fingers inside of her. “I want it hard and fast.” She squirmed as another pinch pushed her closer to the crazy edge of pleasure and pain.
“You’re so small, Harper. I have to make sure you can take me.”
“Of course I can.” His fingers slid in and out of her, making her crazy. God, couldn’t he feel how ready? “I’m wet enough. Now get inside me.”
“Not wet enough,” he said low against her neck. “Not nearly wet enough for what I want.”
She panted. God, yes. Did he finally feel it too? The need to not be careful with her?
She wanted the unleashed Deacon that she’d had in a summer storm. With a burst of strength she wasn’t aware she had, she lowered herself until her ass cupped his rigid shaft. She rolled against him again and again.
He palmed her, the tips of his fingers dragging up the tanktop to bare her belly, then her ribs, and finally the lower curve of her breast. The chuff of his breath tickled her neck.
Undulating against him, she fe
lt the tip of his cock peek over the top of his boxers. She scratched over his hand that held her hips too still. Urging him between her thighs until their stacked fingers teased her swollen folds. God, she was slick enough to take both his first two fingers and her own.
“Inside me, Deacon,” she panted.
He growled into her ear, “don’t move,” and his hand was gone. Her hand was soaked and she couldn’t stop herself from stroking over her rigid clit. “Jesus, Harper,” he gasped into her ear.
“This should be your hand, you filling me up,” she panted as she dipped two fingers inside her pussy.
“Fuck,” he snarled as he fumbled above their heads. The sound of condom packets scattering should have been funny, but she was so wound up, all she could focus on was that he still wasn’t inside her.
“Hurry,” she gasped.
“If you come without me,” he warned.
The tear and snap of latex was the sweetest sound, and then he was there. Surging inside her with relentless strokes.
“Yes,” she groaned. “Deacon.” She pushed back on him restlessly, his wide chest so solid and perfect behind her back. She slid one hand behind his neck, laced the fingers of her other hand with his at her hip and held on. He banded his arm around her middle, holding her flush to him as his strokes grew harder. Her abs burned as she took every inch of him.
He opened his knees, gripping her inner thigh until she was spread over him like a blanket and all of her was exposed. Her teeth rattled with each jarring thrust and all those frenetic atoms under her skin began to settle.
This was what she needed. He was all power and basic need underneath her. She slapped her hand against the ceiling of his bunk and took all of him again and again. The scratchy texture of his chin burned against her neck and then his hand was cupping her breast, plucking at her nipple. All the while, he plowed into her like a piston.
The calm infused her even as he pummeled her body. The eye of the storm swaddled her in cotton and silenced the questions that had ridden her daily for the last week.
When he let the inside of her thigh free, he turned them onto their side and lifted her knee higher to get impossibly deeper. He curled around her, his stubble leaving fire in its wake along her neck. She twisted her upper body until their mouths fused and he took her screams as he owned her body.
She shuddered and shook, and still he held her. Filled with him, one leg draped over his thigh, she allowed herself to melt into his heat. He laced their fingers together, drawing them both over the slick heart of her. Relentless circles, first one way then the next.
She sobbed into his mouth. When he tore himself away from her, she wanted to screech out in frustration.
Instead, he rolled her onto her belly and hiked her knee up, and then he was inside her again. Deeper than before. Already pushed beyond her limit, she bit his pillow and cried out. Her inner walls locked down on his cock, clasping around the invading length again and again as he drove into her.
Her name was a guttural growl into the back of her neck as he finally stilled. He pulsed inside of her, his entire body shaking over hers.
She could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. Her entire body was loose and pliable as silly putty. And just like silly putty, Deacon would be stamped on her skin for all to see.
Instead of slipping out of her, he slowly rolled his hips against her. There was no way he could still be hard. And yet...
He curled his arms under her, wrapping himself around her. She hiccupped out a moan when she felt him slide down until he found her clit, stroking softly. Oversensitive, stunned, and now swamped with all the emotions she’d tried boxing up, she wanted to struggle out of his hold.
She didn’t want this.
What was wrong with a fling? Why couldn’t they stay in that simple slot? Why did it have to be this man that burrowed under her skin?
His lips drifted over her neck to her ear. “I love you, Harper.”
She did fight now. He held her down, but he did pull out of her. Instantly bereft, she ached to have him back and to erase the last twenty seconds from her memory.
How could he break the rules? Unspoken rules that never ever included that four letter word.
“It’s okay. I don’t want anything from you. I just needed to say it.”
Reeling, she stilled under him. If he didn’t want anything from her, he wouldn’t have said it. He would have kept it to himself like men were supposed to, dammit.
Why did she have to fall—no. She shut off her brain to that train of thought. She wasn’t in love with him. She was high on good sex and forced proximity. Surely, that was the problem. He was feeling it, too.
He turned her to face him. The gold of his eyes were so bright they looked back-lit. He quirked his lips at her in that simple way that dug the dimpled grooves deep into his cheeks.
God, he was so freaking beautiful. Inside and out, he was the backbone for everyone. He deserved someone that would hold him up. Not someone like her.
She was never in one place long enough to unpack, let alone be important to someone. She’d just disappoint him.
He brought his hands up to cup her face. “Baby, don’t.”
Still off balance, she simply stared at him. He’d only called her that once. Another freak out, another time.
“I can’t pretend I’m not feeling it. I’ve never actually said those words to anyone.”
Her chest burned and oxygen became a problem. She twisted out of his arms and slid from the bunk, dragging on her clothes.
Skin, emotions, even her rib cage felt like it had been pried open with a crowbar.
“Harper,” Deacon called after her.
She dragged her tanktop down, running with her shoes in her hands.
Simon grinned at her insolently, and she finally noticed it was Annie draped over him. But his face went from teasing to serious. He stood up. “Harper?”
She shook her head and hot-footed it down the stairs and out into the night. The air felt too cool, the starlit sky too bright as she ducked along the trucks.
Deacon’s heavier footsteps slapped on the pavement then suddenly stopped.
She flattened herself against one of the equipment trucks, ordering her breathing to regulate and her heart to slow to a normal pace. Crap. It wasn’t like he stabbed her, but it sure felt like he had. Precise fish deboning in process thank you very much.
“Harper, I didn’t say it to make you freak out.” He waited a beat, then sighed. “Fucking hell, Lawless. This is supposed to be a good thing.”
The “Lawless” endearment almost had her. Every ounce of her wanted to come forward and face him, but her feet were glued to the pavement.
“You don’t think I’m scared, too? You weren’t catatonic when I told you I haven’t said this to anyone before, right?”
Her lips twitched with the need to smile, to cry, to tackle him and beat him bloody for making all of this so difficult now.
He sighed. “I don’t want to leave you here alone in the dark. At least let me see that you’re back to the sleeper bus, huh?”
She tipped her head back, the stars glittering overhead then blurring. Straightening her shoulders, she slipped back out from her hiding spot and stood before him.
“You don’t get to just blurt that stuff out, you know. I was enjoying a very satisfying orgasm and a perfectly boneless afterglow.”
He reached for her, slipping a heavy lock of hair out of her eyes before he cupped her cheek. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but she was soothed by the familiar smell of him with a chaser of her own scent that clung to his skin.
The eclipsing shadow of his shoulders blocked the lights from the bus behind him. All of it made him a dark void looming over her. Then he was dragging her into his chest, and the void dissipated, and it was just Deacon.
Just Deacon, and his familiar blasting warmth and solid muscles. She looped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest.
He laid his cheek
along the top of her head. “I don’t know how to do this either, Harper.”
“Obviously you’re doing better than I am.”
“Am I all one-sided on this?”
She heard him swallow, felt the hitch of hesitation in his voice. It made her hug him tighter and vised her throat closed.
There was no way she could lie to him. She didn’t understand the chaos of emotions, but obviously she felt something. Or this wouldn’t be so hard to figure out.
“No,” she whispered.
“Come back with me. Let me hold you tonight.”
She stiffened.
Instead of stepping back, Deacon crouched and hooked his arms under her butt and lifted her up. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He kissed her. Soft lips that reassured instead of inciting the buzz of excitement that overwhelmed her sometimes.
He breathed into her.
Cherished her.
Earlier in the night she’d been so focused on enforcing the simple lust that lived between them that she ignored this crucial part of Deacon. The man that would never be rough with a woman unless pushed to the edge.
“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.
He stilled so suddenly that she had to brace herself on his shoulders. “For what?”
“That I pushed too hard. That I yelled at you then just expected you to invite me into your bed. That I honestly thought this thing between us could just be sex.”
“So, you agree that it’s not.”
“C’mon, big guy, it hasn’t been just sex since the first time we went at it in that shed.” She heard his relieved breath. “But you gotta know this is crazy fast. You said yourself that you’ve never said the words before—which is crazy, by the way.”
“It’s true.”
“Well, whatever—”
His grip tightened on her hips. “It’s true.”
“Okay.” She smoothed the hair at the nape of his neck. “Okay,” she said more softly, “then how do you know that this is the big L?”
“I’m getting the feeling you’ve never said it either.”
“Oh, I have.”
“I see.”
Rocked Page 29
