The sand was incredibly soft beneath my feet and still warm from the sun’s heat. I noticed we weren’t the only two people strolling along the water’s edge, and that made me feel better.
Deacon caught my hand in his free one, lifting my knuckles to his lips before he threaded our fingers together. His thumb drew lazy circles over the back of my hand as we walked.
“I’m glad you enjoyed dinner.”
“I did. Thank you for asking me.” I paused. “Why did you? I mean, I’m glad you did, don’t get me wrong. But . . .” I struggled to phrase it the way I meant. “I mean, I wasn’t sure you . . . saw me like that.”
“Why would you think that?” He swung our joined arms slightly, sounding genuinely curious.
“Because we’ve been working together for months now, and you haven’t given me any indication of it. I thought maybe, a couple of times, you might—but then you never said anything, so I figured I was wrong.”
“Ah.” Deacon nodded. “Well, you were right. I mean, about the couple of times when I was tempted. But I didn’twantto be tempted. For the first month you were at St. Agnes, Emma, you irritated the living hell out of me. At the same time, though, you intrigued me. I could see how good you are at your job, and I knew I should give you a chance, but damn, I didn’t want to.”
His frankness both startled and amused me. “Please don’t sugarcoat your feelings for me, Deacon. Tell me what you really felt.”
He laughed softly, squeezing my hand. “Sorry. I told you before, my default setting is brutal honesty. Anyway, when I got to know you a little better, I couldn’t help liking you, too. And that was scary as hell, because I saw the danger right away.”
“Danger? I’m dangerous?” I couldn’t wait to hear him explain this part.
“Absolutely.” Deacon nodded. “Because, you see, I was pretty sure that once I gave myself permission to admit how I felt, it was a slippery slope.” He stopped walking, turning to face me, my back to the Gulf. “I knew that once I had a taste of you, I was bound to be addicted.”
“But you haven’t had a taste yet,” I murmured. We were standing so close now, with Deacon’s head bent over mine, that we were breathing the same air.
“No,” he agreed. “I haven’t. I guess there’s still a chance for me, then.” Loosening his fingers from mine, he lifted his hand to my face, brushing back my hair from my cheek.
“You said you wanted to kiss me goodnight when you dropped me off.” I had no idea why I was reminding him of his own words. At this point, I was so rattled by his nearness that I was basically babbling.
“I did say that,” Deacon agreed. “But I didn’t say that was the only time I was going to kiss you, did I?”
I tried to think back to yesterday, when he’d asked me out. “I guess not.”
“Do you have any objection to me kissing you right now, Emma? Because if you do, you need to say it, fast.”
I swallowed hard and shook my head. “No,” I whispered, just to make sure he understood my position. “I have no objections.”
“Good.” A smile ghosted across his face.
“But what if you were right? What if you’re addicted once you kiss me?”
Deacon cradled my face. “Oh, Emma.” He dipped his head lower, skimming his lips alongside my ear. “It’s too late for that. Don’t you know that I’m already hooked on you?”
And then his mouth was angled over mine, testing, trying, getting to know the shape of me. I slid one arm around his waist to hold on, and after a moment, Deacon’s other hand, the one that wasn’t cupping my cheek, circled to rest on my lower back, just above where the dress covered my ass—barely. I felt the clunk in the sand as he dropped our shoes behind me. His hand flattened over my bare skin, urging me even closer to him. At the same time, he parted his lips, using the tip of his tongue to tease along the seam of my mouth.
I opened to him without hesitation, eager to feel the thrust of his tongue between my lips, to shiver at the slight tickle of his exploration. Pulses pounded in my body at every point where we touched: my breasts ached, heavy with need, and lower, between my legs, an insistent throb was building.
Deacon groaned into my mouth, and his hips shifted just enough that I could feel the hard ridge of his own desire. His fingers spread on my back, the tips of two of them just barely sliding under the edge of my dress. I wanted so much more. I wanted his entire hand to slip under the material and cover my ass. I wanted his mouth to trail down my neck and suckle one of my nipples through the cloth of my dress and bra. I wanted him to sink to his knees here in the sand, lift my dress and use his mouth on my wet and needy core. I wanted to ride his lips and tongue until I was no longer dying for the need of him.
I wrapped both arms around him and curled one leg around his knee, desperate to be even closer. As if sensing how near to the edge of combustion I was, Deacon eased his lips from mine, pressing small kisses to the corner of my lips, his breathing as uneven and thready as mine was.
“God, Emma.” He trailed a path down my throat, just as I’d hoped, but he stopped at my collarbone. “I’m having a hard time remembering why laying you down in the sand right here isn’t a good idea. Remind me. Tell me all the reasons why.”
“Um.” That was my articulate contribution. “Uh . . . crabs?”
His chest shook with laughter. “Crabs. I assume you mean the literal crustaceans and not the little critters that you don’t want to get in your private areas.”
“Actually, I don’t think I’d want either of them near my, uh, private areas. Sounds downright uncomfortable.” I rested my forehead against his chest, closing my eyes.
“I’d have to agree.” Deacon’s fingers brushed lightly up and down my naked back, and I shivered in delight. “Are you cold?”
