Page 34 of Screwed

The quiet intensity he usually wore around the site like a mask came out in full force in his kisses. His gentle touches earlier were gone, and he gripped the side of my face with a possessiveness that tore a groan from my throat.

When we’d first kissed in that Monarch cedar tree, it was rushed and heated, but there was a sweetness to it. Fresh off the heels of my confession and admission of fear, he used his body to reassure me he was going to stay true to his word and keep my secret. But now, there wasn’t anything wholesome or soft about the way we moved together. I tilted my head, letting my tongue tease his lower lip.

He growled, sweeping his tongue into my mouth and deepening the kiss. It was almost overwhelming, the scent and taste of him combined with the dominance behind his touch. But I needed him to slow down.

I pulled back and Deacon let go of my face, panting lightly but staring at me with lust-dappled concern.

“Ava?” he questioned. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

I smiled at him, using my good hand to wrap my fingers around the back of his neck. My nails scratched the base of his scalp, and he practically shivered under my touch. I leaned forward again.

“No,” I reassured him. “But I’m not going anywhere, Deacon. You don’t have to hold me like I’m going to disappear.”

His eyes widened as he took the words in. His shoulders slumped, and he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know if this—”

I cut him off with another kiss, taking complete control of the pace this time. I wanted his passion and fire, but I wanted it slow. Savoring.

My lips moved against his, exploring and curious, and after a moment he followed my lead, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck, too. He gently drew me in with a low moan as our mouths opened, our tongues finding each other again.

I felt his surprise, and then his eagerness as he let himself pour into the kiss.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Barden,” he mumbled against my lips, moving from my mouth to my ear and taking the lobe between his teeth. When he found the spot just beneath my ear, my whole body seized up and I gasped, the hand on the nape of his neck tightening automatically.

Deacon went still, but it was the hesitation of a predator about to take the kill. He grinned against my neck. “There it is.”

I loaded up a retort when he zoned in on that spot, biting down harder this time before soothing it over with his tongue.

I moaned breathlessly, throwing my head back. “Oh, you arrogant, conniving bastard.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Ava,” he chuckled darkly. His hand cupped the other side of my jaw, angling my head so he could have better access, and my toes curled in my boots at the sensation.

That spot had always been one of my most sensitive erogenous zones. Him finding it so quickly was just not fair.

But not to be outdone, I was determined to find a few of my own. I forced him back until I could latch my mouth onto his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses all along his jawline and throat. His hands grabbed my back, strong fingers digging into my skin as his breath deepened.

“Looking for something?” he challenged, tightening his hand in my hair. He dragged my face up to meet his in another frantic kiss. I was so turned on at this point that I was just about crawling out the window of this truck.

I balled my fist into the material of his shirt. So this was supposed to be a challenge, then. My natural competitive streak kicked into high gear as I tried to climb over the console and onto his lap, determined to shut him up for good.

“Careful,” he said, grabbing the wrist of my injured hand gently to keep me from knocking it on anything. I groaned internally, ignoring the heat rushing to my face and other places. “Wait. I have a better idea.”

Deacon’s ability to flip between arrogant prick mode and unexpected, occasional sweetheart mode needed to be studied.

But then he lifted me by the waist, somehow managing to toss me onto the back seat of the truck without hurting my hand before climbing in after me, and I lost the bit of control I’d managed to secure earlier.

His hulking body caged over mine as he buried his face in my neck, going straight for that spot under my ear again. His hand slid up my shirt, rough calluses dragging heat along my skin and making me shiver despite the heat of the truck.

He was rougher now, more insistent than before, and my arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him closer until I couldn’t breathe anymore. I rolled my hips up, desperate for any kind of friction, and when he felt it, Deacon groaned low in his throat. His own hips started grinding back. Too many layers of clothing between us, but it was the thought of it that made it hotter.

For weeks we’d been dancing around each other, prodding to see where the other’s boundary lines were. But there’s always been something else underlying it all, a tension that was now officially snapping like a cord. And it felt so good.

“Off,” I said, my hand going straight to the drawstring of his pants. Deacon laughed, grabbing my hand and sliding it up my own stomach, under my shirt. I huffed in exasperation, pinching my eyes shut as his lips continued to focus on that single, torturous zone of my neck. “What, do you want me to beg?”

“I’d prefer it,” he admitted shamelessly. Then he moved our joined hands down slowly, dragging my palm between my legs until both of us were cupping my clothed crotch. My breath hitched in my throat, and a strangled, shocked sound escaped me. His nose brushed my jaw. “This where you need it, Barden?”

He added just enough pressure to make me squirm against the friction, biting my lip to keep from giving him what I knew he wanted. His hooded, dark eyes were heavy on mine, eagerly searching for something.