Page 104 of Deacon

One morning, a traveling nurse from a nearby clinic came by to swap her bulky walking boot for a streamlined, waterproof cast.

This, along with her PT exercises, freed her, and she was swimming more often, the first to hit the beach each morning.

One night, we kicked back and caught a movie with Raff.

At some point, I glanced at her, our son in her arms on the couch, and realized how much I missed our emotional connection and passion.

After they both went to bed, I headed into the bar, poured a tot of whiskey, then prowled back to the deck.

I reclined into an armchair by the pool, with the ocean, the stars, and the moon above, one arm flung behind the seat rest, head back.

The shuffle of feet stepping out on the terrace caught my attention.

I turned my head to see Ana on one crutch, her foot in a waterproof cast.

She wore a robe that swung open, revealing a two-piece swimsuit beneath.

My lips quirked, and I half sat up, wanting to alert her to my presence, but I paused, mesmerized by her beauty.

She reached a lounge and slid her walking stick onto it.

She then slipped off her kimono, and I let out a silent hiss.

The suit did little to hide her high, round tits, flat tummy, thighs, and long legs.

Her skin glowed in the moonlight, every line and contour a work of art.

The way she stood, sensual and confident despite her vulnerability, was mesmerizing.

Fuck.

My lips twisted as I raked over her sculpted form, from her waist to the swell of her breasts.

The way her complexion glistened in the subtle evening light made me want to reach for her, stroke her, feel every soft and supple curve, muscle, and bone, glide my fingers over her, love on her, and define her.

That’s when I whispered her name.

‘Ana.’

She jolted and turned, her beautiful eyes fixed on me.

My heart throbbed, as did my cock.

Hell, she was stunning.

She would always be my queen, the woman my soul would never let go of.

Holding her gaze, I lifted my glass toward her in a silent welcome.

She stayed put, her eyes skimming me, then the patio, as hesitation flickered across her face.

I gave her space, took a sip, leaned back against the cushion, and stared up at the stars, letting the silence settle between us.

But my yearning for her tightened in my chest, a nagging urgency to get up, stride over, and pull her into my arms.

Still, I waited for her to make the first move.

The soft scrape of footsteps broke the quiet.