He pressed deeper into me. “You could. You aren’t. You’re gonna be lazy because, woman, trust me, you’re gonna need your energy.”
I squirmed under him at that promise and instantly acquiesced, “I’ll stay here.”
His lips curved up again and he replied, “Good call.”
“Though, I’m kinda hungry and I’m also leaking.”
“Right,” he murmured, taking my hint. He bent in, touched his mouth to mine, then said, “I’ll go.”
Then he went, sliding off me and rolling off the bed.
I switched positions to get under the covers.
When I had the covers up over my breasts and Deacon was pulling on his clothes, I called, “Honey?”
He kept his side to me, his hands doing up the buttons of his jeans, but he slid his eyes my way. “Yeah?”
“Hurry.”
At my word, his face darkened and he turned to me, bending deep. Putting a fist on the bed and one hand to my cheek, he bent deeper and took my mouth in a long, hot, wet kiss. When he released my mouth, he touched his lips to my forehead in a short, sweet kiss.
Then he straightened away, pulled on his tee, sat on the side of the bed to yank on his boots, and took off.
And with the amount of time it took him to get back, I knew he didn’t waste any.
*
Deacon
Hours later, in the quiet dark, Deacon lay in the bed he’d lain in many times before, this time doing it feeling Cassie’s soft body tucked to his side, her arm draped over his stomach, her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to her breathing.
All those times before, and more when he was on the road and away from Glacier Lily, he’d dreamed of this too.
I hope you know what you’re doing, asshole, he thought.
But he knew he had no clue.
He just knew he couldn’t stop doing it.
On that thought, he pulled her closer and closed his eyes.
Chapter Ten
Badasses Can Compromise
“They’re my gutters, Deacon.”
“You paid for the ladder, Cassidy.”
“So, it’s my ladder too. Or are you gonna take it with you on your next job?”
It was the next morning, after sex in cabin eleven, a shower in cabin eleven (something else that made Deacon and my dreams come true in spectacular ways, though, these didn’t end in tears, only moans—me, and groans—Deacon) and coming back to the house to have breakfast (eggs and bacon for Deacon, made by me, but I had oatmeal).
We were dressed and almost out the door when Deacon checked his wallet then said he needed to go upstairs to get some money.
I told him he didn’t.
He told me he did.
More words were said.
This brought us to now.
“We’re havin’ words, woman, don’t make yours sarcastic,” Deacon returned, his voice getting growly and not in the good way.
But he was right. There was no need for that, ever.
“You’re right,” I conceded. “But the point is still valid.”
“I’m eatin’ your food, sleepin’ under your roof, and buyin’ your gutters,” he declared.
I got his point.
I just didn’t agree with it.
“You’re also putting them up.”
“Yep. I’m doin’ that too,” he confirmed.
“Deacon—”
He cut me off to ask, “Fuck, can you argue about anything?”
The answer to that question was yes.
I didn’t give him that answer.
I asked, “Can’t you see where I’m coming from?”
He stated the obvious. “No.”
I moved closer to him, taking away a foot of the four that separated us in my foyer.
“I’m uncomfortable with allowing you to pay for something that expensive.”
“They’re not expensive,” he returned. “And I’m uncomfortable with a woman keeping me.”
I leaned back in surprise.
“I do my bit,” Deacon finished.
“Your bit is putting them up.”
“How about I decide what my bit is, not my woman deciding for me.”
It occurred to me right then that we’d hit the Badass Zone, a zone that was not simply the un-capitalized badass zone I was normally in with Deacon. A zone that needed capitalization. A zone I’d never been in. A zone I realized belatedly was a zone where I should tread cautiously.
So I did that.
“On a scale of one to ten, how important is this?” I queried.
“Me doin’ my bit so I don’t feel like you’re keepin’ me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Eighty-five.”
I took in a deep breath and let it out suggesting, “How about you pay for the groceries when we go to the store?”
His brows snapped together in a way that I’d never seen from him before.
It was a way that was a little scary.
“Are you shittin’ me?” he bit out.
“Uh…” I trailed off, thinking the answer to that was yes, even when it was no.
“When I take another job, after it’s done, am I comin’ back here?” he demanded to know.
“I hope so,” I replied.
“And when I take a job after that, where do you want me to be when I’m done?”
His point was dawning on me.
“Here,” I answered.
“Here in cabin eleven, me payin’ to be there, or here in this house with you?”
My tone softened. “Obviously here in this house, honey.”