Midnight Temptation

by L Ann

  Gemma licked her lips and kept her lids lowered, avoided his gaze, knowing the words she could not stop herself from saying would make or break the fragile bond that had been forming between them.

  “You don’t understand, Deacon. No matter what Damien did to me, no matter how scared it made me, I still walked away from it. But you … seeing you lying there, bleeding out, not breathing. You did the one thing he didn’t. You broke me, Deacon. Seeing you like that broke me.” Her hands lifted to cover her face. “I can’t do that again. I can’t live through that again.”

  Her words shattered him, broke him into pieces. He staggered, planted a hand against the wall near to her shoulder and bowed his head, breathing in her scent.

  When he’d finished showering, his only real plan had been to crawl into bed and sleep for a month. Exhaustion had been dragging at his heels. Then he’d opened his bedroom door and found Gemma wearing nothing but one of his old button-down shirts – his shirt, his scent, his female. She had been pacing, arms waving as she muttered to herself. His exhaustion had disappeared.

  At her broken words, he thought his sanity might have joined it.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Tell me how to fix it.” Please let him be able to fix it.

  “You can’t!” A tear spilled down her cheek. “I watched you die.”

  “I’m here, Gemma. I’m alive.” He caught her hand, pressed her palm against his chest. “Do you feel that?” He waited for her jerky nod. “That’s my heart beating. It beats because of you.” His lips found the curve of her cheek. “It beats for you. Forgive me, Starshine.”

  “No.”

  He rubbed his cheek against hers, heard her breath stutter. His fingers found the top two buttons of the shirt and popped them open, dragging the collar away from her throat.

  “Will you forgive me now?” He ran his tongue down the length of her neck.

  “No?”

  He smiled against the pulse pounding at the base of her throat at her soft breathy tone.

  “Stubborn. I like it.” His hand dropped and he wrapped it around her thigh, lifted her leg to hook around his hip and leaned into her. “I need you to forgive me, Starshine.” He popped another two buttons on the shirt and slid a hand inside to curve over her breast.

  “I can’t.” The words left her on a gasp as his thumb stroked over her nipple

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t,” she whispered, and the palm on his chest moved, started a downward descent. Deacon ruthlessly squashed a surge of elation.

  “Why not?” His fingers inched up her thigh, beneath the hem of his shirt. The discovery she wasn’t wearing panties made him groan. “Gemma, you need to tell me why. What can I do to make you forgive me?”

  He wasn’t even sure what he wanted forgiveness for anymore. All he knew was that the only barrier between himself and heaven was the towel wrapped around his hips.

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  Deacon froze, sure he’d misheard.

  “Like you told me you would,” she continued. “The way you promised.” Her fingers traced a burning path down his ribs, beneath the towel and wrapped around his erection.

  “Fuck.” The curse left his mouth in an explosive breath and his hips jerked as her hand stroked him from base to tip and back again. “Gemma.”

  Gemma lifted her lids and finally met his gaze. The hunger he saw in her blue eyes tore a wordless snarl from his throat.

  “Make me scream your name, Deacon.” She repeated the words he’d spoken to her a lifetime ago back at him. “I want the world to know who’s responsible for making me come.”

  Gemma thought she might have shocked Deacon when he froze and drew away. But he only moved far enough to be able to drop his own hand and cover hers. He trapped her fingers against him and bent his head to her lips. A low growl rumbled through his chest as his mouth devoured her. His tongue tangled with hers, stoking the heat of her desire higher. Her nipples beaded, and she felt liquid need pooling between her thighs.

  She couldn’t get enough of him, needed more, needed him closer. She shifted the leg still hooked around his hip, arching her own hips and her throbbing core rubbed against his thigh, forcing a groan from between her lips.

  “Gemma.” He pulled her closer, ground his erection against her hand. His hands closed over her hips, lifted her and spun them both around. Two long steps and she tumbled backwards onto the bed, Deacon coming down above her. Her fingers sought out and found his cock again, wrapped around it.

  His hand curved over her breast, her nipples puckering under his touch, and he growled, the sound sending a shiver of lust through her body.

  “Get rid of the shirt,” he demanded, and Gemma obeyed wordlessly, shrugging it off her shoulders and tossing it to one side.

  The air in the room was cool, but Gemma felt hot, burning up as his burnished gaze raked her body from head to toe.

  “What are you waiting for?” It was her turn to demand, and it pulled a rough chuckle from him.

  “I’m just enjoying the view.” He tangled his hands in her hair, tipped her head back against the pillows and covered her mouth with his.

  The taste of him tormented her – dark, exotic, heady and addictive. Gemma tore her mouth from his, sank her teeth into his bottom lip, and he laughed again.

  “Hungry, Starshine?”

  “Starved,” she whispered, and was rewarded with his hands trailing down her body, stroking over her stomach, over the curve of her hips and then back up, slowly … oh so slowly … returning to her breasts. His fingers traced a circle, moving inward until his finger and thumb caught her nipple between them and pinched, making her gasp and arch up.

  “I love the sounds you make when I touch you,” he murmured.

  “Less talking, more doing.”

  His teeth flashed in a grin and, with a mock growl, he bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. A ragged cry left her, and her grip tightened on his shaft.

  “God, Deacon!” Her other hand tangled in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp.

  “Are you ready to scream for me?”

  With no other warning, he thrust a finger deep inside her. Gemma cried out, moaned, then gasped when he added a second, stretching her. She panted, her hips rocking against him, demanding more. A third finger filled her, and his thumb circled her clit in time with his thrusts, and Gemma felt the pleasure building, like lightning strikes through her body.

  His mouth sucked harder on her nipple, tongue flicking across the hardened peak, mimicking the actions of his thumb and her body jerked, went taut, arched up and she cried out, sobbed his name, clawed at his shoulders as she begged him to stop, begged him for more.

  “You’re not screaming loud enough, Starshine.” He lifted himself up, kissed her again, and then slammed inside her.

  Gemma cried out – in shock, in pleasure – as he hammered in and out. Harder, faster. He lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist so he could tilt her hips and slide deeper. She could hear herself moaning, crying, sobbing with need as another orgasm built.

  The more she cried out, the harder he thrust, sending her spiralling into the most intense orgasm of her life. She sank her teeth into the cord between his neck and shoulder to muffle her screams, and felt his body shake in a laugh, telling her he was aware of what she was doing.

  And then her mind splintered. She floated on a cloud of bliss as her body undulated around him. Deacon joined her, his body shuddering against hers as he groaned her name. His mouth found hers again, this time the kiss slow, tender, bringing them both back down to earth gently.

  He collapsed against her, knocking the air from her lungs, lifted himself up, and collapsed again with a husky laugh.

  “Am I forgiven now?” he asked, rolling sideways and carrying her with him until she was settled against his chest.

  “Maybe,” she replied.

  His fingers ran lightly up her spine and she saw him smile when she squirmed.
>
  “I hate to be that guy, Starshine, but I’m going to be unconscious very soon.” He turned his head on the pillow and she could see the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the paleness of his features. “We need to talk, figure this shit out, but first I have to sleep.” His eyes drifted closed.

  Gemma sat up, untangling her limbs from his.

  “Where are you going?” Deacon’s voice was drowsy, and she knew he was on the verge of sleep.

  “I’m going to clean up. We didn’t use anything.”

  “Fuck, sorry,” his voice slurred. “Didn’t think.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” She turned, stroked her fingers over his jaw, watching as his eyes slid closed again.

  “Make sure you come back.”

  “I will.” She climbed off the bed and hunted around for the shirt she’d been wearing.

  “Mean it, Starshine. Want you here when I wake up. Not like this morning. Don’t make me look for you.”

  Gemma paused, glanced over at the bed.

  Had that really been a hint of vulnerability in his voice or was she imagining it?

  “I’ll be here,” she promised. When he didn’t reply, she returned to the bed to check on him.

  His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, and his chest moved gently with his steady breaths. He looked younger with his trademarked mocking grin missing from his face, and Gemma smiled. She pulled the sheets over him, and dragged on the shirt she found hooked over the lamp. Bending, she rummaged through the overnight bag she’d brought with her when they’d returned to the Sanctuary and found clean underwear and a pair of yoga pants and slipped out of the room quietly.

  After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, Gemma headed downstairs, thinking to grab something to eat and drink ready for when Deacon woke up. As she stepped off the bottom stair, Shaun rounded the corner. Both froze.

  “Where’s DJ?” Shaun broke the awkward silence.

  “Asleep.” The clarity she’d gained since waking told her Shaun was uncomfortable, and she knew why. “Can we talk?” she asked him.

  Shaun hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, okay. We should probably do that.” He stepped back and waved a hand, indicating she precede him. “Let’s go into the TV room. It’s quieter in there.”

  The second the door sealed them in the room, Gemma turned to face him.

  “Nothing happened. You passed out and he decided his game wasn’t as much fun if you weren’t conscious for it.” Gemma told him, taking the direct approach.

  Shaun flinched, his entire body rocking backwards as if she’d struck him.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Gemma nodded. “I was there, Shaun.”

  Shaun strode past her, sinking onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands.

  “It’s been driving me crazy. Every time I go to sleep, it replays over and over in my head,” he whispered. “Cassie asks me what wakes me. How could I tell her? How could I explain that to her?”

  “She’s stronger than you think, you know.”

  Shaun raised his head and gave her a wry smile. “I know she is. It’s not her strength that concerns me.”

  She felt something whisper across her mind, almost like a nudge, and let the instinct guide her. Crossing the room, she sat beside him.

  “You think you’re weak?”

  “I’m an addict. It’s no great leap to assume if I can slip once, I’ll do it again.”

  “You didn’t slip, though.”

  “Didn’t I? Did he force me to take that drug or did I let him? Could I have done more to fight against it?” His eyes were shadowed, dark with self-doubt when he turned to look at her. “Even now, I can feel it under my skin. That whisper telling me to go out, find a dealer.”

  “But you haven’t listened to it.”

  “Yet.”

  “You won’t. It’s not who you are. Have you talked to Cassie?”

  Shaun laughed softly. “And add to the burden she’s already carrying? She’s dealt with enough, without me adding to it.”

  Gemma star ed at him, seeing, for the first time, beyond the calm quiet exterior to the tormented soul he hid.

  “You know,” she said slowly, “when Cassie was in hospital, there was a moment … a rare moment … where Deacon stopped being his annoying asshole self for five minutes. Cormac was chewing you out, for mating with Cassie I know now. Deacon was sitting on the floor in the corridor outside her room. He told me it didn’t matter what Cormac said to you, it was your nature to protect, even if it meant hurting yourself. He said that out of all of you, you were the one who would give everything you are and kill yourself in the process.”

  Shaun huffed a laugh. “Sounds a little deep for Deacon.”

  “Well he rounded it up with how you were a fucking idiot and one day it’d come back to bite you on the ass but, you know, that’s Deacon.” She shifted on the couch, reached out and rested her palm on his leg. “The point I’m making is that you don’t need to deal with it alone. Talk to Cassie, talk to your brothers. None of them will judge you. And, you never know, just putting it out there might help.” She squeezed his leg and rose to her feet.

  Just as she reached the door, he spoke again.

  “Gemma?”

  She turned around and found Shaun standing, watching her.

  “Welcome to the Pack,” he said, with a gentle smile.

  Deacon groaned, rolled onto his back, and rubbed a hand across his face without opening his eyes. Without looking, he stretched out an arm and scowled when his fingers encountered nothing but bedding.

  “Gemma?” Silence greeted him, and he sighed.

  Had she run from him again? Was this how it would always be?

  He opened his eyes, lifted his head off the pillow and scanned the bedroom. His scowl melted away when his gaze reached the woman sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, her back to him.

  As the final remnants of sleep left him and his senses woke up, he could hear the faint tinny sound of music playing through headphones, smell the ever-present scent of vanilla and coconut that surrounded Gemma, and felt the warmth of her body where her thigh rested against his shin.

  Her head was bowed and she seemed intensely focused on something, so much so she didn’t notice when Deacon moved, pushing himself into a seated position. He bent his legs and shifted so he was kneeling behind her.

  He reached out, tugged one ear-bud from her ear. “Gemma?”

  Her reaction took him by surprise. Gemma shrieked, twisted around and her fist connected with his jaw and sent him toppling backwards.

  “Fuck! Again?” His hand rubbed his jaw.

  “Oh my God! Deacon!” Gemma shot forward, planted her hands on his shoulders and leaned over him, where he sprawled on the bed. “I’m sorry. You scared me.”

  “No shit,” he drawled.

  “Did I hurt you?” Her fingers touched his jaw lightly, stroking over the area she’d hit.

  “You might have bruised my ego a little.” He angled his head, and grinned. “Kiss it better?” When she leaned forward to press her lips to his jaw, he turned his head and stole a kiss. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Almost twenty-four hours.” Her hand slapped against his chest when he started to rise. “You’re to take it easy. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Chase can fuck off. I’m fine.” Deacon pushed against her palm until she let it drop and allowed him to sit upright. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer, stealing another kiss. A kiss he fully intended on making quick but turned into a leisurely exploration of her mouth as soon as her lips parted beneath his.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Gemma asked, a little breathlessly, when he finally released her.

  “Do I need to prove it to you?”

  She shook her head, but Deacon caught her eyes slipping south and grinned. “You’re checking me out.”

  “I am not!” The blush on her cheeks told him otherwise.

  “You are. You’re t
otally checking me out.” He leaned back against the headboard and tucked his arms behind his head. His grin turned smug. “And you like what you see.”

  “The size of your ego is incredible,” she muttered.

  Deacon snickered. “It’s not my ego you’re looking at, Starshine.”

  Gemma shook her head at him, rolling her eyes. He smiled at her. This was the Gemma he had been becoming obsessed with before Damien took her. Fiery, confident, with a wicked spark in her eyes that promised him the ride of his life.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Her question intruded into his thoughts.

  “How am I looking at you?”

  “I … don’t know.”

  Deacon moved an arm, reached forward to hook his finger into the neckline of her top and tugged her closer.

  “I missed you,” he whispered just before his lips closed over hers in a slow, heated kiss and for a while there was no more talking.

  “Has there been any news?”

  Gemma stirred from where she lay beside him, her fingers tracing over the large paw prints tattooed across his side, abdomen and hip.

  “if there is, no one has told me.” Her fingers found the faint bullet scar. “Does it hurt?”

  “No, and the scar will probably be gone in a few days.”

  “Have you been shot before?” She pulled out of his arms and sat up, grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over her head.

  “Couple of times. Nothing quite as …” he hesitated. “Nothing major.”

  “You mean you didn’t die,” she said quietly.

  “I didn’t die this time,” he replied.

  In reality, Deacon didn’t know what had happened. He knew Gemma, Cormac and Shaun all swore he died, but he remembered hearing their voices. He had heard Gemma crying, Shaun and Cormac discussing him. Maybe Chase was right and his wolf half had stepped in to keep him alive. But he thought it was more than that and he was sure Gemma’s wolf biting him had a lot to do with it.