by Tia Louise
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and my stomach tightens. It takes all my willpower not to check Angel’s text at dinner.
“I know, you young men need your space to sow your wild oats.” She lifts a fresh goblet of dark red Barollo, taking a sip and cutting her eyes at me. “Just remember you can come back home when it’s time to settle down.”
“I’m more interested in living in a house where I’m the head than being a guest in yours.” I’m not going to get into the fact I can’t bring Angel home with my aged aunt lurking around the halls.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Deacon.” She places a slim ivory hand against her chest. “It’s our family home. You’d be the head of your own little group just as I’d be responsible for myself.”
“Is that how it works?” My eyes drift to the life-sized portrait of my father hanging over the oversized mantle, looking down on us both.
He’s standing beside a horse, holding the bridle, but he’s not dressed like a cowboy. He’s dressed like an English lord. A similar painting of my grandfather is in the great hall, only he’s standing in his Texas suit, bolero tie, holding a cowboy hat with oil derricks rising in the background.
“What do you think?” My aunt’s voice interrupts my thoughts. She’s watching me. “Is it time to commission your portrait to hang in these hallowed halls?”
“No!” My answer bursts out on a laugh. The idea is funnier than I expected.
“What?” Her blue eyes narrow. “False modesty aside. You will be added to the gallery at some point. You’re the heir.”
“I think it’s a little premature for painting my portrait.” I lift the heavy crystal goblet and polish off my glass of Barolo. “Who knows what I might do?”
Winnie leans back in her chair, gazing at my father. “I think it’s about time we added a female to the mix. What do you think?”
“You’re having your portrait made?”
“And why not?”
“I was just making sure.” I couldn’t care less about these meaningless traditions. “Go for it. I think it’s a great idea.”
“I think you’re right.” A rare smile curves her lips. “Will you be attending the Cattlemen’s Masque this year? I’d like to tell Haven and Cecilia if so. They’ll be thrilled to have you back.”
Haven Wells is Rich’s mother, and Cecilia Westbrook is one of my aunt’s old friends from school. It gives me an idea—one I like very much the more I think about it.
“Yes.” It’s as good a time as any to introduce them to my girl. “When is it again?”
Winnie laughs, shaking her head. “It’s the same date every year, darling. A month from Friday.” She leans back with a sigh. “Your mother always loved the ball. She was a rancher at heart. Your father took her away from that life.”
“I’ll be there.” Slipping a bite of steak in my mouth, I nod. “And I’m bringing a date.”
“A date?” Her eyes widen with delight. “That’s wonderful! Is it someone I know?”
“No.” I take a sip of the heavy red wine. “But it’s someone very important to me.”
“I’m intrigued.” Her lips press into a smile, and she flares her eyes. “Someone I don’t know who’s very important to you? I can hardly wait.”
That makes two of us.
An hour later, I’m pacing my bedroom on the second floor of the family home. My aunt has gone to bed, but I stay here because it’s closer to Lakeside than my downtown penthouse. My blood is hot, and I must see my angel tonight.
Finally, she texts me back. I can be at the corner of Lakeside and Greenbriar at midnight if you still want to meet?
Glancing at my watch, I see that’s fifteen minutes from now. I’ll be there.
I’ve changed into jeans and a navy tee. Grabbing the black leather jacket off the back of my chair, I dash down the stairs and out into the garage. It’s probably eighty degrees out, but the wind and the darkness make it cool. I don’t want to wake my aunt, so I roll my Indian FTR motorcycle out to the end of the driveway before pulling on my helmet and kicking it to start.
It’s a sleek, black machine, invisible in the night, and it flies across the vacant roads, smooth as silk, eating up the miles separating me from my love. Flying in the dead of night to find her has a romance that matches the heat in my veins. I’m half a mile away when I see her standing in the glow of the streetlight, her dark hair swaying in the breeze along with the thin fabric of her skirt.
Hunger blazes to life in my chest. I want my hands under that skirt. I want her body all over mine. I’ve waited so long… She’s so close.
Pulling up to where she stands, I hop off the bike and whip the helmet off my head. “What a shitty day,” I groan, wrapping my arms around her.
“It’s definitely been a whirlwind.” Her cheek presses to the center of my chest. “I didn’t know what might happen next.”
She fits so perfectly against my body. I dip my chin to inhale her fresh scent before leaning lower, capturing her velvet lips with mine—something I’ve wanted to do since I opened my eyes this morning.
I open her mouth with mine, curling my tongue with hers, and a soft noise escapes from her throat. Heat floods below my belt.
“Let’s go.” Taking the spare helmet out of the back compartment, I hand it to her as I replace my own, kicking the engine to life.
She’s at my back, slim arms holding me so tight, and I feel the pressure of her head against my shoulder blade. It’s a sensation I’ve known since we were kids. It’s a sensation I’ve missed so much.
We blaze into the night, gliding over the roads, crossing the miles like water. The Yellow Rose lookout tower is on the other side of town, but at this hour on a Thursday, it’s easy to make good time, and I know the back roads to take.
Stars flood the night sky as we travel farther away from town. They form a ripple of glitter curling through the expanse of inky black under a quarter moon. Lifting my hand off the grip, I cover hers clasped at my waist. She fumbles with my fingers, lacing hers with mine, and I lift her hand to my lips.
We’re almost there, and I can feel the softness of her skin in my memory. When I was a boy, and I’d leave her to go back to Phillips Academy for the school year, I’d dream of her kisses, sweet like candy.
Now I’m a man, and my dreams are not sweet. They’re hot and hungry.
We pull off the road onto the gravel leading to the hill beside the lake. The stone tower rises into the night like a promise of what’s to come, and the brown grass and short trees give way to the glow of the lake under the moon.
I park in the shadows behind a scrub bush and help Angel to her feet, taking the helmets and leaving them on the bike. Holding hands, we rush through the narrow black doorway towards the wooden stairs. My back hits the stone wall, and she falls against me, searching for my mouth in the darkness. I kiss her, sweeping my tongue along her lips, and sliding my hands under her breasts, feeling their weight through the thin material.
“You feel so good,” I groan.
She gasps softly. “I’ve missed your touch.”
My body is taut and straining for her. “I want to touch you everywhere.”
Pushing apart, she takes my hands, leading me higher, all the way to the observation deck overlooking the mirrored lake below.
The wind pushes in strong gusts through the open space. It’s less hot and laced with the metallic flavor of water. Dark gray storm clouds are gathering on the horizon, but I’ve got one thing on my mind.
“It’s perfect,” she whispers as I turn her back to the wall.
“You’re perfect.” My hands are on her bare thighs, lifting her against me as I rock my hips forward.
We’re shrouded in darkness, and I devour her, kissing, tasting, burning up with the need flaming hotter in my chest, in my pelvis. Our lips pull and slide apart, and a groan breaks the silence. She pulls at the thin cotton of my shirt, ripping it higher, exposing my stomach.
I quickly shrug out of my jacket, whipping the shir
t over my head. In the pale moonlight I can see her full bottom lip clutched beneath her teeth as she traces her fingers along the lines of my stomach. It’s hot as fuck, and my cock is a steel rod in my jeans.
“Angel,” I groan, pulling her to me, capturing her lips again, reaching down to slide my hands along the soft skin of her thighs.
Her body rocks against mine and she moans as my hands rise higher to the apex of her thighs where I discover… “You’re not wearing panties.”
“Touch me there,” she whispers, and my brow collapses.
My fingers slide along the slick wetness of her pussy, and she grips my shoulders, crying out as her head falls back. “Deacon…” It’s a breathless plea, and I want to make her come, but I want to be inside her just as badly.
Our hands fumble against each other’s, working to unfasten my buttons, lower my jeans, open the front of her dress. Our moves are frantic and fast, trying to rid ourselves of these obstacles to our lust.
My knees almost buckle when cool fingers wrap around my shaft. She slides her grip up and down, speaking in my ear. “So big.”
Shit, dirty-talking Angel is so hot.
I turn her facing the stone wall, gripping my cock and sliding it along the back of her thighs.
“Deacon…” She gasps as I find what I’m searching for, thrusting my cock balls deep into her clenching core.
“Fuck.” My eyes squeeze shut, and I have to hold steady. It feels too damn good after this day of delayed gratification.
We’re panting, and my mind blanks until she backs her hips against me, moving her core up my shaft. “Move,” she murmurs.
I fumble with the front of her dress, sliding my fingers into her, tracing them higher to the spot that makes her moan.
“You want this?” My lips are at her ear, and she arches against my chest.
“Yes.” Her fingers fumble with mine, threading along her clit, circling the wetness as I rock her body higher, pumping into her faster.
She rises on tiptoes, dropping her head back against my shoulder. I bend my knees, closing my eyes as the pleasure snakes up the back of my legs. It’s too good… heat and warmth and pleasure tightening my balls, centering in my cock.
Her other hand grips my neck, and I turn my mouth to find hers, biting and sucking her tongue as she shivers, circling her fingers faster.
Our mouths break apart. “Don’t stop.” With one hand on her flat stomach, I knead her breast, pulling her nipple while I trace my mouth along her neck, behind her ear, wanting to taste her everywhere.
She’s salty sweat, and she smells like rich jasmine. “Oh,” she sighs.
My voice is ragged and gruff, and my instinct is faster… harder…
Her soft ass crashes against my pelvis. Her fingers move faster, I thrust harder. I push her to the wall, and she moans loudly, slamming her palm against it. I feel her insides clench just before she breaks into spasms as she comes.
Fuck me, it feels so good. It’s just what I need to let go, driving hard for two more thrusts before holding, balls deep as my cock pulses, my orgasm jetting into her.
I pull her to me, holding her back against my chest as we breathe heavy in time. I slide my hands around her waist, closing my eyes and feeling her body, this woman who owns my soul.
How is it possible to love someone this much? To need her so fiercely, it’s an actual, physical pain?
She’s the only woman I’ve ever slept with. It sounds fucking corny, but we taught each other how to move, how to touch… because we were inexperienced kids, we didn’t know to be embarrassed by our fumbling mistakes.
Minutes pass as we return to Earth, noticing the sounds of the night. An owl calls, cicadas scree, the water laps on the lake.
“Here.” I speak softly, sliding out of her and instantly missing the warmth of her body.
Her skirt falls over her legs, and I pull up my jeans, turning to sit and pulling her onto my lap in a straddle as I hug her close. Her hands are on my neck, and she leans forward, tracing her full lips along mine, kissing and nibbling. It’s enough to rouse my sated dick in my pants.
“I should’ve brought you back to my place.” My voice is thick. “I want to fuck you all night.”
Her nose curls adorably. “Make love all night. We already fucked.”
Damn, this girl.
My girl.
Leaning back, I gaze at the vision in front of me. The top of her dress is still unbuttoned, and moonlight touches her small breasts with silver light. Dreamy amber eyes meet mine, and I shake my head.
“How did this happen to me?” I sound as bewildered as I feel.
“What?” Her head tilts to the side, her brows furrowed.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The sweetest thing I’ve ever known.”
“Deacon.” Her chin drops and she hugs her body close against mine. “You’re the best thing in my life.”
I slide my hands up her back, loving the feel of her in my arms. It’s all I ever want, holding her in my arms this way as long as I live.
“It’s time, Angel.”
She sits back, studying my expression. “Time for what?”
“Time for me to come to your house and meet your family, introduce myself.” Sliding a wild curl behind her ear, I grin. “I want to make us official.”
She blinks down, almost shyly. “I’ve been thinking about that. My brother’s just getting back in town. I’m just getting to know him—”
“I want to know him, too. I’ll pick you up at your house—his new house—and I can meet him, take you on a real date.”
“We’ve been on real dates.” Her nose scrunches, teasing me, but I’m serious.
“I want to meet your family. Say yes this time.”
She tilts her head to the side, soft curls drifting around her high cheekbones. “Yes.”
Our eyes meet, and she smiles. Leaning forward, she wraps her arms around my neck. Her soft breasts press against my bare chest, and I close my eyes at the sensation.
Her voice is quiet. “I don’t know what Beto’s like or what he’ll say.”
Sliding my hands under her arms, I hold her back so she can see the smile on my face, feel the confidence I feel. “Whatever he says, we’re in this together. I’ll take care of you.”
She studies me, looking deeply into my eyes, and I wonder what she sees there. I hope she sees what I want her to see—our bright future.
She must, because ultimately her full lips curl into a smile. “I wanted to invite you to Lola’s quinceañera on Saturday.”
“When and where?”
“It was supposed to be at the Knights of Columbus, but I think Beto is moving it to his house. We’ll start at five, so maybe you should arrive around six?”
“An hour late? That seems rude.”
“An hour after my brother has been drinking.” When I hope he’ll be more relaxed…
Tracing my finger along the line of her forehead, I kiss her brow. “I’ll be there at five thirty. What should I bring?”
“Just yourself.”
“I’m bringing her a gift.”
She exhales, sliding her nose along my jaw. “We’d better get back. It’s late.”
The wind is picking up, and the scent of rain is all around us. She straightens her top, buttoning it closed, and I retrieve my shirt, pulling it over my head. I wrap my leather jacket around her, and we hold hands walking down the stairs to my bike.
Rain stings my arms as we retrace the miles, and the warmth of her body presses against my back. We’re going to be together forever, and it’s going to be amazing.
I won’t let it be any other way.
4
Angel
We’re just ahead of the storm when we reach my brother’s house. I jump off the bike and give my helmet to Deacon.
Smoothing my hair back, he leans down to kiss me again, flooding my body with warmth. “I should walk you to the door.”
Reaching up, I thread my finge
rs in his thick, dark hair. “Soon.”
“Saturday.” His blue eyes glow in the darkness, and I want to tell him he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. He always has been.
Instead I tell him goodnight. “Go now. Before the rains starts. I’ll worry until you get home.”
He rarely rides a motorcycle. It’s too hot most of the year, and his Audi is plush and air conditioned. But tonight, it was perfect for our clandestine affair. Except when I say goodbye at this hour, when it’s starting to rain.
I’ve broken so many rules to love him—I broke my promise, I hid him from my family… I hate feeling like judgment is lurking around the corner, hanging over our heads. Valeria will love him if she gives him a chance. Lourdes does.
Beto should… I can’t think about that now.
“I’ll text you when I get there.” He leans down for another, hot kiss, and my fingers tighten on his slick leather jacket.
He exhales a groan, the muscle in his square jaw flexing attractively. “I hate saying goodbye. I want you in my bed.”
He’s so damn fine in the darkness, that surge of need filters into my stomach. I swear, he’s right. We could be together all night and still not be satisfied.
Reaching out, I place my palm against his warm cheek. “Saturday, right here at this house, everything is going to change.” For the better, I pray.
It’s enough, and he pulls me into one last, consuming kiss. My body is so small against his, covered by him. I want to thread my fingers in his hair again and hold him all night, but I don’t dare. He needs to go, and I need to get inside and sleep.
He walks the bike to the end of the driveway, giving me one last wave, one last panty-melting grin before he races off into the darkness.
I’ve got less than two days to lay the groundwork with my brother. Less than two days to figure out how to tell Valeria I didn’t keep the promise I made to her eight years ago… Did she really think I did?
Less than two days to try and discern if bringing the love of my life to meet my family is going to lead to World War III… and what I’ll do if it does.
The tiniest noise seems to echo in this enormous stone house. I slip off my sandals to keep from making a sound as I scamper through the grand entryway. When my bare feet touch the smooth stone floors, I think of how proud Beto was when we arrived, telling me they were genuine travertine, beautiful and smooth, and imminently durable.
