by Victoria Sue
“You could certainly do with some clothes,” Maverick agreed and signaled to turn.
“Yeah.” Deacon picked at one of the only two shirts he had. He squirmed. “I’ll have to borrow….”
“I know,” Maverick said lightly and parked in one of the family spaces near the entrance. Deacon jumped out.
“I’ll see you inside,” he confirmed and swung Molly up and hurried inside with her.
Maverick took his time. Patted the leather console and climbed out of the truck, glancing at his phone when he heard the notification beep. It was an email from the Denham Institute, reminding him of his appointment. Damn. He had taken a cancellation because he needed to get his back looked at, and he’d forgotten about it with everything else that was happening.
He didn’t like the thought of leaving Deacon, but it wasn’t fair to ask him to drag Molly along. Maverick smiled as he walked up to the main door. He liked Molly. Not as much as he liked her uncle, but he definitely had a soft spot for her. Maybe he ought to rethink the apartment idea. Kids needed yards. Trees to climb. Grass to—
He came to a complete stop just as the automatic doors opened. A yard? When had this gone from an instant attraction to an instant family? But of course, Deacon was now a package deal. Maverick’s lips curved into a slow smile, which widened when he saw Deacon coming out of the bathroom holding Molly’s hand.
Molly beamed at him while Maverick grabbed a cart, and Deacon lifted her up and sat her in it. They browsed for some clothes for Deacon, and Molly appointed herself chief decision maker with Maverick and Molly pronouncing thumbs up or thumbs down to all Deacon’s choices. It was silly, and they had fun even if Maverick did feel a little like a Roman emperor.
Molly came out of the cart while Maverick paid, and then she was hungry, so they got a quick snack. Deacon suggested she visit the bathroom again—Target made it simple for him to go with her—and they disappeared while Maverick walked back to the electronics area and a very helpful lady picked out some DVDs for his truck that Molly would like. Maverick was the first to admit he hadn’t heard of two of them. Then he wandered over to the pharmacy. He was paying when he heard Deacon’s panicked shout at the top of his voice. “Molly?” His blood ran cold.
Deacon ran from the bathroom and looked around wildly. “Deacon,” Mav shouted and ignored the stab of pain in his back as he hurried over.
“I can’t find her. We were washing our hands and about six women all came in at the same time, and it was such a squeeze, and before I knew it, Molly was out and I couldn’t get to her.”
Maverick snagged the arm of a sales associate as she walked past. “Our little girl just ran out of the bathroom on her own. She’s only two.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she immediately spoke into the earpiece she was wearing, and a security guard came running over. Deacon ran toward the entrance shouting for her, and within a few seconds, two more people were helping.
“Mav?”
Mav turned when he recognized the voice, and the relief nearly brought him to his knees. It was Molly. Carried by a smiling Charlie in full uniform. She was chatting a mile a minute and asking all about his radio. Another cop followed them both in.
Deacon ran to her and practically wrenched her from Charlie’s arms. Charlie smiled at Maverick, and they shook hands. “Look who I found outside?”
“Thank you,” Deacon said fervently and clutched Molly.
“No problem,” he said. “Not that I wasn’t surprised to see her. I was just coming on shift, and I thought you must be inside.” He grinned, nodding to the small Starbucks by the entrance to indicate why he had stopped. Charlie turned and shook hands with the sales associate. “All under control now,” he confirmed, and everyone dispersed. “Can I get anyone a coffee?”
Maverick chuckled. “Since when?”
DEACON LET them talk for another minute until Molly started protesting at the tight hold he had on her, and Maverick shook hands again with Charlie, and they left. Charlie had confirmed he would be one of the patrol cars on duty outside their house later.
Deacon’s hands shook as he valiantly tried to fasten the seat belt, and with a firm hand, Maverick shooed him into the seat and said he would take care of it. Molly was yawning by the time they had set off, and whether she usually napped at this time or not, he thought the excitement of the last few days was catching up with her.
It was catching up with him. What would have happened if Charlie hadn’t caught her outside? It didn’t bear thinking about. He’d been telling himself they would cope fine, and he couldn’t even manage a simple trip for groceries without putting her in danger. What did that say for the future? Deacon shuddered. He would never forget the moment of absolute terror as Molly had slipped out of the bathroom door, and the few seconds it had taken for him to get past the women coming in. He never ever wanted to go through that again.
“We could get a GPS,” Maverick said conversationally, “or have a tracking chip installed. An old buddy of mine told me he had an app installed on his daughter’s cell phone that told him where she was at all times.”
Deacon focused on what Maverick was saying. “What?”
“I guess she’s a bit young for a cell phone, though,” he added thoughtfully.
Deacon gave a shaky laugh, knowing what Maverick was doing. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”
“Won’t be the last, I’m afraid,” Maverick agreed. “You wait till she starts being interested in dating.” He scowled. “Of course, that won’t fly unless she’s at least twenty-five.”
Deacon laughed. “You’re not gonna let her date until she’s twenty-five?”
“Nope,” he said and patted his holster comfortingly. Deacon rolled his eyes, then had to blink a few times as the words hit him. Twenty-five? He knew Mav had been teasing him to make him feel better, but what if Maverick had been half-serious? That he could see himself still being in their lives when Molly was all grown? His breath hitched, and he turned his face to the window. He wanted that. He wanted that so damn much it hurt.
Chapter Sixteen
TWO MORE days and nothing much seemed to happen. They’d eaten and talked as much as they could with an audience. Jamie had even gotten some books for Molly because there was no way either of them wanted to risk going out again. They hadn’t heard from Phan except through the cops. Mav knew Phan had hundreds of things to do and they had been pretty lucky with all the detective had shared, but the not knowing was driving him crazy.
And not just not knowing about the murders. He was completely confused about his reaction to Deacon. They’d only known each other for days, and that was no time at all to build a lasting or any sort of a relationship, especially with what was currently throwing them together.
The heart wants what the heart wants.
Emily Dickinson. One of his mom’s favorite sayings. Not that he’d ever read whatever book she’d written those words in, but his mom used to say that sort of thing all the time. His mom and dad had met on Thanksgiving. She used to be a librarian, and it seemed she always had a book in her hands. His dad volunteered as a handyman at the local shelter, and his mom had been down there donating old library books.
The story went that his mom’s car had broken down and Dad had fixed it, but his mom used to say she would swear he put sugar in her gas tank, and his dad would laugh and say she was so sweet it was her that’d stopped the car just like she’d stopped his heart. They’d married four months later.
Maverick swallowed heavily. He didn’t honestly know if his skewed view of his mom and dad’s problems had sworn him off relationships, poured scorn on the notion of a happy ever after, but he was doing them both an injustice. His dad losing his job hadn’t made his mom sick. Pride might have been his dad’s worst crime, but what did that make him? A chip off the old block? It was easy to make assumptions and hard to admit he’d been wrong. He hoped his dad knew that and his mom and dad were together now. It was a nice thought.
/> The house was quiet. The sofa was as comfortable as it had always been, and for the past two months that had suited him pretty well. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night—or not until he had a little person use him as a pillow—so why in the hell was he still awake at fucking 3:00 a.m.?
For like a millisecond, he wanted a drink, but then he remembered the responsibility he carried, and the longing for a whiskey was replaced by a longing for something else. Someone else. He was half-hard simply thinking about Deacon.
He stilled at the noise in the hall, and then the door to his room pushed open and Deacon stepped cautiously in. The smile he got when he lifted his arm to encourage Deacon to lie down with him was worth every second of his sleepless night.
“Molly woke up a little bit ago. I think she might be starting a cold, but she’s gone to the bathroom and had some water, and she went out again like a light. I don’t think I’ll hear anything else from her until breakfast time.” Deacon snuggled in next to Maverick. “You’re like a space heater.”
Maverick smiled and rubbed his hands over Deacon’s chilly arms. “I think you need a blood transfusion. It’s been eighty degrees out there today, and it hasn’t dropped that much.” June in Atlanta was often hot.
“Maybe that was an excuse,” Deacon admitted into Maverick’s neck after another minute. He raised his head. “Maybe I missed you?” His gaze dropped to Maverick’s lips, and the last question became obvious.
“Yes,” Maverick answered with a groan and took Deacon’s lips, his desire and his erection flaring to life.
Deacon broke off. “Wait,” he said and stood up. He pulled the blankets Mav had thrown off and the cushions and arranged them on the floor. He lay down on them and patted the floor next to him invitingly. Maverick was happy to oblige and slid to the floor, pushing his prosthesis out of the way.
Deacon’s eyes darkened. Mav could make out the colors from the light spilling in from the hallway. “I brought the lube with me,” Deacon said as Maverick pulled him close.
Maverick nuzzled his neck. He’d bought lube and condoms from Target after he’d gotten the DVDs for Molly, but he wasn’t going to put pressure on Deacon by telling him that.
Deacon whimpered as Mav shucked his shorts down, and his thick erection was visible against his belly. Deacon took hold of him instantly. “You have no idea how many times I’ve looked at you today and wondered if you had anything on under your pants.”
Mav groaned and caught Deacon’s lips, sucking the bottom one between his own, then clamping his mouth over them both and ravaging them. His hands slid up Deacon’s chest, and he cupped Deacon’s throat, curling his fingers around the back and applying a little pressure with his thumb to the front. Deacon’s cock jerked.
“Why is that so hot?” Deacon asked, whimpering and squirming to get closer.
Mav let his hands roam and soon found Deacon’s nipples. The gasp he heard from the slight scratch of his nail on the hardening nub was very satisfying. “I would love to see you with these pierced.”
“Oh,” Deacon moaned again. “You’re gonna make me shoot when you say things like that.”
Maverick grinned. He loved the sexy way they talked last time and the effect it had on Deacon. “We can’t have that,” he said, licking from the hollow in Deacon’s throat and up to his chin. Deacon shuddered and chased Mav’s lips with his own. Mav broke away and bent his head to Deacon’s nipple now he knew the effect he would have. He moaned as Mav fastened his lips on it and swirled his tongue, but when he bit down, Deacon’s eyes flew open. “I’m gonna—”
“No,” Maverick ordered and clasped the base of Deacon’s cock as it throbbed. He’d never dominated, especially during sex, but he’d never had a relationship before, and whatever was happening, it was definitely a relationship. Maybe that was what made the difference.
“You can’t do that,” Deacon ground out.
“No?” Maverick said innocently. “Says who?”
“Torturing your boyfriend is wrong on so many levels.” Deacon fisted his hands, and then he stilled, realizing what he had said. The question in his eyes was obvious.
“We’ve known each other for only a week,” Maverick agreed and smoothed the blond hair out of his eyes. Deacon closed them as if not wanting to face whatever Maverick was going to say next. “And I’m not a good boyfriend prospect.” But he wanted to be so very badly. “I was maybe a bottle away from being an alcoholic. My body’s broken. I haven’t got a job, and I sleep on my sister’s couch.”
And there wasn’t just the two of them anymore.
Deacon opened his eyes and gazed at Maverick. “I have no money, no job, and I don’t even have a sister to lend me a couch. I’m also responsible for a two-year-old who will have to come first for the next twenty years.”
“As she should,” Maverick agreed solemnly.
“And I have a crazy man maybe coming for me after murdering other people.”
“Okay,” Maverick said in mock seriousness. “That trumps sleeping on my sister’s couch.”
“That trumps everything,” Deacon hissed. “You are at risk being with me, and the only thing that’s keeping me here is knowing Molly is safe.”
“The only thing?”
Deacon’s beautiful blue eyes swam with tears, and he shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant that caring about you means not putting you in danger, which means I should go check into a motel, but Molly—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Maverick said, a warm glow filling him at Deacon’s admission. Maybe Emily Dickinson knew what she was talking about. He brushed a kiss on Deacon’s soft lips. “If I think Jamie is at risk, I know she has a ton of cop buddies that would either move in here or take her to theirs. We can both talk to her tomorrow and see what she wants to do if it will make you feel better. But—” He was helpless not to grab another kiss. “—you stay with me wherever you are, and I don’t mean only because of the murders.”
Deacon stared into Maverick’s eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I understand we’ve only just met. You’re worried physical attraction—no matter how good—” He smiled. “—isn’t enough for a forever relationship, and you have to think about Molly.”
Deacon gazed at him. “So when we’re not fighting for our lives, you think we should date?”
Mav chuckled. “We can date. So long as it involves sleeping in the same bed.”
“That is not what you just said,” Deacon protested.
“It isn’t?” Maverick teased. “I like the idea of candlelit dinners, maybe a movie.”
“No, I mean sleeping in the same bed.”
“You don’t want to sleep in my bed?” He feigned mock outrage. “Whose bed do you want to sleep in?”
“Well, my own.”
“And there’s not room for me? I mean, I’d take the floor if I had to, but it’s hell on my back. You gotta think of that.”
Deacon shook his head. “You’re impossible.”
Maverick nuzzled the side of his neck, and Deacon tilted his head to give him more room.
“I think you like my brand of impossible,” Maverick declared and moved to his lips.
Deacon moaned into Mav’s mouth, then eased back. “I want you inside me so very badly,” he whispered.
Mav smiled. “Fuck, yeah.” Deacon passed him the lube, and Mav was generous with it. There was no way he was going to hurt Deacon. He gently inserted a lubed fingertip into his hole, just barely past the first knuckle, and groaned as the action seemed to send a bolt of heat right to his own cock. He rubbed it against Deacon’s thigh, knowing it wouldn’t take much. He eased his finger in and out and palmed Deacon’s sack at the same time, wishing he had two hands free. Another time, he would get Deacon to sit astride him, and that thought nearly took his head off.
“Oh fuck,” Deacon uttered.
“I’ve never heard you swear.”
“Molly will—” But the rest of the sentence was swallowed w
ith Maverick’s lips. Mav rolled onto his back and brought Deacon with him, kissing him fiercely until Deacon sat up, reaching for the lube and condoms. He was quick. The deft hands. The light touch. So much more erotic than pressure could ever be, and Mav strained toward him. Deacon kneeled up and positioned himself.
“Have you ever done this?”
“I’m not a virgin.” The words were a little defensive.
Mav smirked. “No, I guess you wouldn’t be.” Sex, drugs, and rock and roll? Mav hated that fucking stupid saying. “I meant rode someone.”
Deacon’s sharp inhalation was as good of an answer as he needed.
He shook his head. “But I want to see you, and this way I can control how slow I go.”
It was a good idea in theory, and Maverick steeled himself to stay still when every cell in his body wanted to thrust into what he knew would be glorious wet, tight heat. He swallowed and watched—unable to take his eyes from Deacon for even one second—as he lowered himself slowly, inch by incredible inch. Maverick saw the discomfort register, and he opened his mouth to tell him to stop, but Deacon’s eyes quickly held wonder, then heat. They burned—he was sure—with the same intensity that was licking at him.
“You are so incredible,” Mav said, awed with the level of trust Deacon was showing. Mav must have moved a little because Deacon splayed his hands over Maverick’s chest, but he moved back. A tiny thrust of his hips that begged Maverick to copy it. Deacon lifted slightly, and Maverick’s hands supported his hips to make the descent slow and easy. He wanted to say something, anything. Something meaningful. But the words that were on his lips, Deacon wasn’t ready to hear.
“Faster.” Deacon threw his head back.
“Touch yourself,” Maverick ordered, and Deacon’s hand curled around his dripping cock. Soon Maverick was thrusting into Deacon, and Deacon was controlling nothing. The sounds spilling from his lips were the most eloquent Mav had ever heard. Need drove them both. Their bodies joined and writhed in moves both unscripted yet seeming like they had practiced them all their lives. Deacon arched and pumped his hand one last time, his head thrown back and his mouth open in the same bliss that was pounding through Maverick until he collapsed forward, and Mav caught him. He would always catch him.
