Page 146 of Deacon

She left welts, her nails scoring my spine.

Every press of our hips, each deep growl from my throat, and every frantic gasp from her mouth sealed our reunion with intense, possessive friction.

We came together so hard, I almost lost my mind.

She was everything I’d dreamed of these last few years.

The adrenaline carried me right into the next night’s show, reigniting even hotter when I got off stage.

We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

In the hallways, behind the backstage curtains, or on the tarmac, I kept pulling her close.

Every chance I got, I hooked my arm around her waist, pressed my mouth into the crook of her neck, or traced her jaw with my thumb, loving her warm breath against my skin.

Our affection was clear as day to the rest of the team two mornings later as we caught our flight to Chicago.

‘Look at the lovebirds,’ Jude chuckled as we sneaked a kiss in the SUV before boarding. ‘Someone get Deke a leash, he’s marking his territory on the runway.’

‘Leave them alone,’ Mason said, grinning as he tossed his duffel over his shoulder and got out of the vehicle. ‘A brother is getting his after years of living like a monk.’

I gave my bandmates and Mason on the tarmac the finger, then went back to making out.

When I trailed my lips to her throat, Ana laughed and pushed me away. ‘Stop, honey, we’ve got a flight to catch.’

‘Can’t help it.’

After one more sensuous kiss, we exited the ride and ran up the jet’s stairs with Ana’s laugh lighting up my soul.

That night, we turned up the heat in the walls of our suite at The Gwen, an eponymous hotel exuding the vintage glamour of the 1930s.

Our lovemaking was a masterclass in redemption; righteous, hard-won and fucking glorious.

ANA

Chicago’s neon city lights cast long fractures across the ceiling as Deacon pinned my wrists to the mattress.

He was pouring his whole heart into a deep, bruising kiss that made me shudder under him.

I moaned into his mouth just as my phone blared on the nightstand.

Out of a knee-jerk habit born of years as a hyper-vigilant mother, I pulled away from Deacon to answer the call.

‘Ana,’ he complained in a gritty rasp, flipping onto his back with a sultry, masculine twist of his lips.

Damn, he was so sexy.

I couldn’t get enough of him.

However, a cold wave of fury doused my scorching desire when I saw the name flashing on the screen.

With a sigh, I held it up for Deacon to see.

He arched an incredulous brow. ‘For real?’

‘Should I take it?’ I asked as the phone vibrated in my hand.

Deacon rubbed the back of his head in thought, his muscled arms bunching, his naked chest rippling.