Page 137 of Deacon

The afternoon sun poured through my bedroom windows as I wrestled with a jammed zipper on my camera kit, tugging in frustration.

‘Need a hand?’ Deacon asked, leaning against the doorframe and smirking. ‘I packed hours ago, so happy to help. Or are you planning to fight that bag all day?’

‘I have it under control.’ I tossed my dark hair over my shoulder and gave the zip one final, stubborn yank. It closed. ‘You worry about your own luggage.’

‘Right. Because I’m the one who packs four denim jackets for a five-day leg.’

I threw a folded pair of socks at his head, a smile curling at my lips.

‘They’re different washes, Deacon.’

‘Whatever you say, hot mama.’

His seductive drawl caught my attention, and I glanced at him.

He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, sexy as fuck in a black tee, jeans, and his customary boots.

His cologne drifted towards me, mingling with the clean scent of his skin, and I wondered how much longer I could resist throwing myself at him.

Our eyes met, and the heat we shared intensified. I sensed he was thinking the same thing I was: this trip would change us.

Blushing, I broke eye contact and finished packing.

When I was done, Deacon grabbed my main case and his, then led the way downstairs to the van idling outside, ready to whisk us away.

Half an hour later, we pulled up at the airport, where the band’s leased jet sat waiting.

A frisson of excitement ran through me as we stepped out of the van and onto the tarmac.

The rest of Deacon’s bandmates and crew were loading gear onto the plane.

‘Look who decided we were worthy of her viewfinder,’ Jude said, crushing me in an embrace. ‘Welcome to the circus, Ana.’

‘Keep your lens away from my bad side, Miss Thing,’ Reign joked, hugging me.

‘That statement assumes you have a good one, brother,’ Bluey, the band’s sound man, called from the cargo hold.

The crew erupted into laughter.

I smiled, camera in hand, and started documenting their unfiltered energy as they loaded instruments, equipment crates, and cases onto the plane.

I captured a series of striking shots of the band standing on the aircraft steps, the golden sky framing them.

Once inside the cabin, I took a window seat, and Deacon dropped into the chair beside me.

As the jet taxied down the runway and lifted into the clouds, he reached across the armrest and threaded his fingers through mine.

I turned towards him, savoring the warmth of his palm, and rested my head on his shoulder.

He gave me a sweet kiss as the plane climbed into the evening sky; we locked eyes, and once again I was inundated with the feeling that this trip would change us forever.

We landed in New York at eight p.m. and headed to the Aman New York.

At Deacon’s request, the hotel concierge had assigned us adjoining luxury suites with a connecting door.

We were busted when he handed me the room cards, and the others realized they were for the same adjoining suite.

‘Hey, now. Talk about proximity,’ Jude said with a smirk during check-in, raising his eyebrows.