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Authors: Laura Drewry
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With a slap on the back to get Ernest moving, Rhea hurried to check on Deacon.
“For goodness sake, take a breath.” From the small pitcher on the table in the corner, she poured him a glass of water and held it out until he took it.
“I would if I could,” he choked, “but I wasn’t expecting to see…that…come through the door.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s wearing men’s clothes,” he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head in disgust. “In public.”
Rhea leaned back against the wall and sighed. “Isn’t it brilliant? If it wouldn’t scare off all my customers, I’d trade in these cumbersome skirts and petticoats for some of those trousers myself.”
Deacon swallowed his water, set the glass down and moved directly in front of Rhea, trapping her against the wall. His eyes sparked with mischief, and his lip curled in a challenging half smile.
“No wife of mine is going to wear men’s trousers and horrid flannel shirts.”
“And no ‘husband’ of mine is going to tell me what I can and cannot do,” Rhea bristled. “Rest assured, I’ll do what I want whenever I want.”
Why did he have to stand so close? He used up all the oxygen, making it impossible for her to breathe normally.
“Of course you will.” His blue eyes pierced through her as he fingered the end of her braid. “So tell me, wife, what do you want?”
To start with, she wanted him to stop looking at her like that, as though he’d die if he didn’t kiss her right then and there. More than that, she wanted to stop feeling the same way. And she really wanted him to brush his hair because the way it was now, all tousled and standing up, it was far too tempting to reach up and smooth it back into place.
The tip of his nose brushed over hers, then across hercheek. No other part of his body touched her, yet she felt him everywhere, from each strand of hair right down to her toes. Her blood pumped harder, her heart tipped and her brain swirled.
This wasn’t right. She didn’t want this, didn’t want him to touch her like…oooh. His lips whispered over her jaw, grazed her earlobe, then danced down her neck to where her pulse throbbed. Tipping her head to the right, she offered him more, silently begging him to take it, to kiss her like that again.
Oh no, this wasn’t right at all. This was exactly what she’d been trying so hard to forget. The way each touch scorched her skin, each breath sapped more of her strength.
“I—” She pressed her palms against the wall on either side of her for balance.
“Hmm?” He nibbled soft kisses against her earlobe, rested his cheek against hers and whispered against her neck.
Her senses swirled and tumbled, taking in everything that was Deacon. His clean masculine scent overwhelmed her, and his touch left shivers in its wake. All she could hear was his breath, quick and labored, and all she could see was his face; those deep blue eyes asking her to give him what they both wanted, while those seductive lips tempted her beyond reason.
All that was left was to taste him.
Rhea turned her face to his, seeking out what she was suddenly so desperate for. He smiled against her mouth, teasing her with feather light brushes, until she wrapped one of her hands around his neck and dragged him closer.
He took the kiss deeper, longer, moving his mouth over hers again, harder and more determined, until she gave back with everything she had.
Her pulse pounded, and her heart ached inside her chest. If only he’d touch her…
She arched toward him, but his hands remained where they were, pressed against the wall on either side of her head. He was trying to drive her mad, and it was working—but she wasn’t about to let him win that easily.
With deft fingers, she released two buttons on his shirt and slid her hand inside. His breath hitched, his muscles flexed, and an instant later, he pressed into her touch. Someone
With a slap on the back to get Ernest moving, Rhea hurried to check on Deacon.
“For goodness sake, take a breath.” From the small pitcher on the table in the corner, she poured him a glass of water and held it out until he took it.
“I would if I could,” he choked, “but I wasn’t expecting to see…that…come through the door.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s wearing men’s clothes,” he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head in disgust. “In public.”
Rhea leaned back against the wall and sighed. “Isn’t it brilliant? If it wouldn’t scare off all my customers, I’d trade in these cumbersome skirts and petticoats for some of those trousers myself.”
Deacon swallowed his water, set the glass down and moved directly in front of Rhea, trapping her against the wall. His eyes sparked with mischief, and his lip curled in a challenging half smile.
“No wife of mine is going to wear men’s trousers and horrid flannel shirts.”
“And no ‘husband’ of mine is going to tell me what I can and cannot do,” Rhea bristled. “Rest assured, I’ll do what I want whenever I want.”
Why did he have to stand so close? He used up all the oxygen, making it impossible for her to breathe normally.
“Of course you will.” His blue eyes pierced through her as he fingered the end of her braid. “So tell me, wife, what do you want?”
To start with, she wanted him to stop looking at her like that, as though he’d die if he didn’t kiss her right then and there. More than that, she wanted to stop feeling the same way. And she really wanted him to brush his hair because the way it was now, all tousled and standing up, it was far too tempting to reach up and smooth it back into place.
The tip of his nose brushed over hers, then across hercheek. No other part of his body touched her, yet she felt him everywhere, from each strand of hair right down to her toes. Her blood pumped harder, her heart tipped and her brain swirled.
This wasn’t right. She didn’t want this, didn’t want him to touch her like…oooh. His lips whispered over her jaw, grazed her earlobe, then danced down her neck to where her pulse throbbed. Tipping her head to the right, she offered him more, silently begging him to take it, to kiss her like that again.
Oh no, this wasn’t right at all. This was exactly what she’d been trying so hard to forget. The way each touch scorched her skin, each breath sapped more of her strength.
“I—” She pressed her palms against the wall on either side of her for balance.
“Hmm?” He nibbled soft kisses against her earlobe, rested his cheek against hers and whispered against her neck.
Her senses swirled and tumbled, taking in everything that was Deacon. His clean masculine scent overwhelmed her, and his touch left shivers in its wake. All she could hear was his breath, quick and labored, and all she could see was his face; those deep blue eyes asking her to give him what they both wanted, while those seductive lips tempted her beyond reason.
All that was left was to taste him.
Rhea turned her face to his, seeking out what she was suddenly so desperate for. He smiled against her mouth, teasing her with feather light brushes, until she wrapped one of her hands around his neck and dragged him closer.
He took the kiss deeper, longer, moving his mouth over hers again, harder and more determined, until she gave back with everything she had.
Her pulse pounded, and her heart ached inside her chest. If only he’d touch her…
She arched toward him, but his hands remained where they were, pressed against the wall on either side of her head. He was trying to drive her mad, and it was working—but she wasn’t about to let him win that easily.
With deft fingers, she released two buttons on his shirt and slid her hand inside. His breath hitched, his muscles flexed, and an instant later, he pressed into her touch. Someone
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