“That may be true, but I’ve waited too long to compromise how I fuck you.” Deacon’s bald statement took me by surprise and made me laugh breathlessly. “I want all the options available to me. I want you in my bed, under me. I want you stretched out over me. I want to lay between your legs and feel you come against my tongue. I want you on your knees in front of me. And I want you bent face-down over my sofa with me pounding into you from behind.” The tip of his tongue darted out to swipe over his lips. “And that’s just the beginning.”
My head was spinning. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” His response was rueful. “I might have thought about this a time or two.”
“Then why are we here and not somewhere you can make all of that happen?”
Deacon sighed and traced the line of my cheekbone. “Because I started second-guessing this. Us. Me, I guess, if I’m honest.”
An arrow of unease stabbed me. “You did?”
“Yeah.” A line appeared between his eyes. “Maybe I was overthinking things.”
“That’s a bad habit.”
“You’re not wrong.” One side of his mouth quirked up, but for the space of several heartbeats, he was quiet. “Emma, have you had many relationships?”
His question was so unexpected that I didn’t answer right away. “Uh, many is an arbitrary, subjective word. But I guess I’d have to say the answer is no. I had a boyfriend in high school for almost a year, and then I dated one guy in college off and on. In the end, that was more like a friends with benefits deal—we liked each other, but we weren’t . . . on fire to be together.”Not like you and mewas what I didn’t say. “And since then, just hook ups. There was a man I was attracted to at my first job, but I was so consumed by the work and establishing my career that I didn’t put any effort into it.”
“I understand that.” Deacon nodded. “This career isn’t easy on relationships.”
“No,” I agreed. “What about you?”
“Kind of the same.” He wound a lock of my hair around his finger, and his eyes were fastened on the movement. “I told you that I didn’t date in high school, because I didn’t want to get tied down here. It was the same in college.” His throat moved up and down as he swallowed. “I was in a long-term relationship at the end of med school and during my residency, but it didn’t last.” His smile was crooked. “Clearly, since here we are.”
“You’re not hiding a wife and children somewhere?” I joked.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m notthatgood at compartmentalizing my life. My job is all-consuming—you know that.”
“Deacon?” My voice was thick, and I cleared my throat. “Are you trying to say something to me here, or is this just small talk? I feel like you’re dancing around what you want to tell me.”
“No . . .” Deacon frowned. “I just want to be clear. I like you, Emma. As hard as I tried not to, I do.”
He sounded so grumpy about it that I couldn’t help giggling. “I’m sorry?”
“You should be.” He laughed, too. “You and I are both so focused on our career. We’re good at our jobs.”
“I feel like I should be apologizing again, for some reason.”
“No, I don’t think so.” He rubbed my arm. “Don’t get me wrong, Emma. I want this—I want us. I want to have this . . . whatever it is between us, friendship or romance or the very clinical-sounding relationship. I like talking with you and discussing our patients and even fighting with you. I like eating meals with you and just hanging out together. And like I said before, I’m fucking dying to get into your pants.”
My face heated even as I smiled again. “That’s some pretty talk there, Deacon. I’d ask if you kiss your grandmother with that mouth, but I know you do.”
“Hey, I only speak the truth.” His gaze roamed down my body hungrily. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
“I feel like there’s abuttacked on the end of that.” I was afraid to hear what it was, but I wasn’t a coward—it was better to know these things upfront than to have to deal with them later.
“Not really. It’s just my internal argument.” Deacon took a deep breath. “I guess I’m afraid of what might happen if this doesn’t work. I’ve been in a serious relationship, and I’ve seen it all go to hell—and I know what that feels like. It’s a fucking mess.”
I had a feeling there was a larger story there, but it wasn’t one I needed to hear right now. “Do you think that’s going to happen with us? Are you afraid of what happens if it does?”
“That’s part of it,” he admitted, his voice husky. “I’m afraid that the smart thing to do would be to walk away before we get any more involved.” His hand came up to frame my face. “But I’m more afraid that it’s already too late, because the idea of not being with you is more painful than anything else in the world.”
For the space of several breaths, neither of us spoke or looked away. And then I drew in a deep, shaky breath.
“Deacon. Take me home with you. I don’t care about what happens tomorrow or in two weeks or two months. I want to be with you. I want you inside me . . . and I want it now.” I pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Deacon’s eyes went dark, and for a moment, I thought he might drag me out of the car and take me right there on the ground. But with a muttered curse, he sat back in the driver’s seat and reached for his seatbelt and the gearshift.
