Emma
“Thank you.”
As he slowly navigated the dirt drive that led from his grandparents’ home to the road, Deacon cast me a questioning sideways glance.
“For . . .?”
“For bringing me to the farm. For introducing me to your grandparents. They’re wonderful.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I kind of like them. They’ve been . . .” He paused as though searching for the right words. “Stalwart and steady support as long as I can remember. I never felt a moment of insecurity growing up, even with one parent dead and the other constantly MIA. Gram and Pop had my back, no matter what.”
“I got that sense from them. As my mom would say, they’re good people.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything else as he turned onto the paved road. The car picked up speed, and I let my head fall back against the seat, the wind rushing through my hair and filling my ears.
It had been an almost perfect day. I’d loved spending time with Deacon’s grandmother, who was funny, irreverent and shrewd. She had made me feel as though she liked me for myself, not simply because I was some girl her grandson had brought home. I hadn’t failed to notice, too, that she had refrained from asking me any questions about my relationship with Deacon. She hadn’t pried about how serious we were or how long we’d been dating.
And Deacon had been relaxed and easygoing all day, too—or at least, he had been until I’d run inside to return the photo album and grab my purse. When I’d come back out onto the porch, the atmosphere was just slightly . . . off. I wondered if Gram had said something to him about me, or if they’d discussed something upsetting that had nothing to do with me at all.
I snuck a glance at him now. His jaw was set and his lips were pressed together as he shifted the convertible into a higher gear, picking up speed. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, making it more difficult for me to read him.
It seemed that he was heading back toward my trailer, and a trill of disappointment spiraled down my spine. I’d had hopes that maybe tonight, Deacon would ask me to come back to his house with him, which in turn just might lead to action between the sheets. I was more than ready for that—weeks of cold showers and increasingly vivid dreams about him, fantasizing about his touch skimming over my body . . . I was like a box of dry kindling, ready to go up in smoke at the smallest spark.
That pulsing need pushed me to reach out and wrap my fingers around Deacon’s hand where it rested on the gearshift knob.
“Hey . . . are you still taking me for that joyride you promised?”
He cocked his head to hear me over the rushing wind. “I did make a promise, didn’t I? You’re still up for that?”
“Um, of course I am. A promise is a promise, after all.” I shot him a teasing smile.
“Where do you want to go?” Deacon raised his voice as he picked up speed.
“I don’t care!” I shouted back. “You’re the local. Take me to your old haunts. Show me all the spots only people who grew up here would know. Or just find an empty road with a long straight and open her up.”
He grinned. “Not sure you know what you’re asking for, darlin’.” It wasn’t often that hints of the south showed up in Deacon’s voice, but they were there in spades now.
My heart thudded against my ribs. “I’ll take my chances. I trust you, Deacon.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sped up through the next curve and took a fast left at the next intersection. Moments later, we were on a long stretch of road without another car in sight.
Deacon leaned toward me slightly. “You ready for this?” he yelled.
I threw back my head. “Bring it!”
Deacon shifted again, and the muscles in his thighs bunched as he lowered his foot on the gas pedal. He’d changed out of his T-shirt and jeans into a polo and dark khaki shorts before dinner, and I appreciated the view of his long, powerful legs. I was so used to seeing him covered up in suits and dress pants that getting a glimpse of any part of his body was an instant turn-on.
We were going so fast now that the trees we passed were a blur. It was exhilarating and scary at the same time, but I only craved more. Deacon leaned forward and pushed a button on the dashboard, and hard rocking music from blink-182 blasted from the speakers.
“I love this!” I lifted my arms into the air and closed my eyes. I heard Deacon’s answering chuckle fly past me. A moment later, I felt him grab my hand, and when I opened my eyes, he raised my knuckles to his lips.
My pulse was throbbing as adrenaline raced through my blood, and all I could think about was how much I wanted him. I wanted to climb onto his lap right now and impale myself on his cock, riding him until we were both screaming and spent. I wanted him to lay me out across the hood of his car, hold me down and fuck me hard.
I justwanted, with every cell of my body. There wasn’t room in me for anything else but the tide of desire threatening to roll me under and utterly consume my soul.
As if he could feel the need rising from me, Deacon made an abrupt turn onto what looked like a glorified path. We slowed as he downshifted and navigated the car into the trees.
My breath was still coming fast from the ride, and my heart was thundering.
