Then he coughed, and painstakingly moved back. “Uh, yeah, a shower.”
Disappointment flooded her belly as he sidestepped her and walked into the bathroom. A moment later, the door quietly closed. She heard the faucet creak and the sound of rushing water met her ears.
With a ragged breath, she stepped away from the door and slid under the ugly checkered bedspread, trying to get comfortable in bed. Her hands moved to her belly, stroking it gently. It was probably for the best. Giving in to her attraction to Deacon again wouldn’t lead to anything anyway. He’d made it glaringly obvious that he wasn’t going to stick around. He was simply making amends for the ordeal she’d been through, taking her back to her family as a form of reparation.
Her attempts to get him to open up continually failed. Every subtle nudge, every little reminder that there was hope for his future, had gone unnoticed.
Sex wasn’t going to bring him around. It would only complicate things further, add to the tangled knot of confusing emotions already lodged inside her.
At the mere thought of sex, though, hot flames of arousal licked every inch of her suddenly feverish skin.
“Snap out of it,” she muttered to herself.
Right. She had to get a grip. She couldn’t sleep with Deacon again.
It was a bad idea.
A mistake.
But…
But just one more time wouldn’t hurt, right?
Lana was naked when Deacon walked into the bedroom.
He had to do a double-take to be sure, but yup, naked. She lay on top of the frayed blanket, her pale skin shimmering in the dim lighting of the room. His mouth instantly went dry. His pulse kicked off in a gallop.
He couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Her round breasts, tipped by beaded pink nipples. Her firm thighs and shapely legs, the delicate arch of her feet. His gaze rested on her belly, and his heart did a strange lurch when he noticed the tiny bump. There was a baby in there. His baby.
Christ.
“What are you doing?” he choked out, suddenly wishing he’d taken all his clothes into the bathroom instead of just a pair of black boxers. His body’s reaction was not one she’d fail to notice. His erection hung hot and heavy between his legs, straining against his boxers.
“I’m waiting for you to join me.”
“Lana.” He gulped. “You know this isn’t a good idea.”
“Sure it is.” She shot a pointed look at his groin. “And I think you know it, too.”
How could he argue with that? How could he explain that although his body was raring to go, his brain was screaming for him to get dressed and walk out the door? A part of him wished he could. Just cut and run, let Lana make it back to her family on her own, so he could leave the country and forget he’d ever met her.
But he couldn’t do that. The sheer thought of leaving her sent waves of agony roaring through him.
He stood there frozen in place, torn between marching back to the bathroom or climbing into bed with her. Lana apparently decided to make the decision for him, because she swung her bare legs over the side of the bed, stood up and sauntered over to him.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pushed her breasts into his chest. He almost keeled over with arousal.
“Lana,” he began, taking one last stab at derailing this potentially destructive train.
She cut him off with a kiss.
The ability to form articulate thoughts disappeared in a sharp gust. Her lips were soft, warm, and she teased his mouth, brushing barely-there kisses over it, the tip of her tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. He instinctively parted his lips and granted her entrance, and then their tongues met and a rush of pure pleasure flooded his groin.
And just like all the other times he’d tasted her, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Craved it on a raw, visceral level.
Somehow they made it to the bed, mouths and tongues fused together, hands moving and exploring, legs tangling together. Deacon was panting as he brought a hand between her thighs, as he rubbed, stroked, brought her to new levels of pleasure while she moaned against his lips. He nearly lost it when she climaxed against his palm, her core rippling and pulsing, moist and slick, while she shuddered against him.
A groan squeezed out of his chest when she encircled his shaft with warm fingers, still rocking against his hand to prolong her release. He could barely move, his muscles were taut with anticipation, but the need to be inside her broke through his lust-crazed paralysis. He covered her body with his and slid into her in one smooth glide.
He almost lost control right then, stilling her hips with his hands before she tried to move. When he looked into her eyes, the passion and acceptance he saw there nearly ripped him apart. “I won’t last long,” he choked out.