I reach out to touch his face and step closer. “Are you okay?”
He leans his cheek into my palm, holding my gaze before sliding a hand behind my waistband and pulling my body against his. “Is this real?”
I nod, my gaze flicking between his mouth and his eyes.
“Is Evan all right?” he asks, looking doubtful.
“Why do you think he’s trying to take me from you?”
“Because you love him. And he’s falling for you.”
I slide my hand down to wrap around his neck, bringing my mouth closer to hover next to his and share a breath or two. “You’re not getting rid of me.” I kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Promise,” he says.
“I swear,” I whisper, kissing a line up his cheekbone.
His ragged exhalation hits my throat, and I shiver. “It’s not that I don’t want him,” Deacon says. “I don’t know what he told you, but I do…I’m just…scared…”
“Scared?”
“Of losing you.”
That’swhat he’s afraid of? Is that what started all this? I should have said more while he was still in the kitchen. Deflected some of the blame he was heaping onto Evan. “You won’t.”
“Even if he’s done with this?”
The thought of that breaks my fucking heart. I lean my body against Deacon, tilting his face to see him better. “You’re mine. I meant that.”
He moves one hand between our bodies, over my stiffening cock, and the other down my back. “Are you sure this is what you want? This mess?”
“Yes. All of it,” I tell him.
“Then I need your help. I need you to show me what loving him looks like.”
I can’t tell which I’m more of a simp for. Deacon’s strength or his vulnerability. I press my hips forward, his touch lighting the usual fire inside me. “Whatever you need. I’m not letting either of you go.”
His forehead crashes against mine, and I press my mouth roughly to his, stealing a deep kiss. “Don’t do this,” Deacon murmurs against my lips. “He’ll hate me for this.”
He’s right. My cock is so fucking hard, though. I stop kissing him, but jerk him toward me, rubbing our cocks together through our pants, fighting the urge to touch every inch of his body. “No one could ever hate you.”
He shakes his head. “I think you’ve got that wrong.”
“I couldn’t,” I insist. “And he couldn’t either.”
“I hope that’s true.”
“It’s a fact.” I run my hands up his sculpted chest, needing to reassure him in the only way I know for sure he understands. “You know, he told me to come in here. He said you needed me.”
“I do,” he says quietly, his fingers sliding down my arms.
“So where do you need me?”
“Inside me. Please,” he says without any more hesitation.
I flip him around and walk him toward the bed. I pull his pants down and rub my clothed cock on his naked ass. Deacon is all muscle under smooth skin. He’s ridges and dips and two firm mounds of flesh begging to be touched and fucked and used.
I kiss my way down his back, dropping to my knees to part his cheeks.
