Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
I tried to hold his gaze, defiant, but my heart was betraying me, pounding so loudly I feared he could hear it. “You can’t just walk back into my life and assume --”
“Assume what? That you still care?” His voice was low, a dangerous kind of soft that wrapped around me like a shroud. “I know you, Apple. I can see it in your eyes.”
My frustration was boiling over. The nerve of the man standing before me was only matched by the undeniable pull I felt toward him. A pull just as strong today as it was the first day I met him.
“That’s just it,” I snapped. “You know me better than anyone ever has other than Lemon. Why does it have to be you? Why can’t I love someone else? God know I’d tried, too.” I’d flirted with some of the guys at Grim, just to see if there was a spark of excitement. Even if it was only about sex. But there hadn’t been. No one other than Deacon would ever be what I wanted.
He advanced on me then, a mask of fury falling over his features. “There damned well better not be anyone else.” He backed me up until I was against the wall. “Who is he, Apple? Who the fuck is he?”
OK. This was new. I’d never seen Deacon lose his cool like this. His eyes were wild with both anger and… pain? I decided to ignore the emotional outburst and answer the question as if he didn’t look like a crazy person.
“None of your Goddamned business, Deacon. You don’t even get to ask that question, let alone get an answer.”
“No? Fine. Your decision. But I’m gonna make sure you know who you belong to now.”
Before I could protest and tell him to go fuck himself, Deacon brought his mouth down on mine and kissed me like he was fucking starving for me.
The kiss was both an invasion and a homecoming, aggressive and familiar all at once. I wanted to shove him away, to scream at him for assuming I wanted his touch after everything that happened. But my body remembered before, and melted into the familiarity of his touch, betraying my resolve. His lips moved against mine with a desperation that mirrored my own, pouring years of apology and longing into the gesture.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t go far. His forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with mine, heavy and hot. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “For everything. I had valid reasons I won’t apologize for because, above everything else, I will always protect you, Apple.”
“I never doubted you would.” I was exasperated as well as hurt. “That’s what you are. A protector to everyone you care about. But if you’d just explained it to me, we could have worked it out together.”
“Not on something like this, honey. The men I had after me would have made the short remainder of your life a living hell just to torture me. It was worth risking my happiness to make sure you were as far away from those monsters as possible.”
“And my happiness? What about my happiness?” He winced but shook his head. Before he could say anything, I continued in a whisper, “What is life without happiness, Deacon?”
“You’d have found happiness without me. You’re young.”
“I’m not too young to know what love is. I loved you, Deacon.” My voice broke. “So much!”
“You still love me.” So arrogant. He wasn’t wrong.
“Maybe I do. But you lost any right you had to me when you told me you needed more than I could give you.”
He nodded. “Agreed. I’m still taking you.”
This time, when he kissed me, Deacon’s touch was rough, desperate, filled with the anger and longing that had built between us over the last year and a half. I pushed against him, angry at myself for responding despite my better judgment and my bruised pride.
“Don’t fight me, Apple,” Deacon whispered between kisses. “I can’t stay away from you any longer. You’re mine. You always have been.”
With that, he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me. I couldn’t stop my legs from going around his waist. I still gripped his shoulders with my hands instead of winding my arms around his neck, but I clung to him as though my life depended on it. Or like I never wanted to let him go.
The heat of the moment swirled around us, a tempest of unresolved feelings and unspoken words. Deacon carried me to the bedroom, setting me down on the bed with a gentleness that belied his earlier aggression. His eyes searched mine, as if looking for an answer. Or perhaps permission?
“I need you to understand something,” he said, his voice rasping with emotion. “When I left, it wasn’t because I didn’t love you. It was because loving you too much could have killed you.”