Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(56)

Him? Ha! “I told you why I didn’t write back. Even if the Sheriff’s boy weren’t into you he’d still f*ck with us just because he could. Because he was your father’s buddy.” He shook his head. “I can’t let him give you shit, you or my family. I can’t give him a reason when I won’t be here to answer for it.” Declan cursed. “To keep you safe I have to give you space.”

She was so mad she had to stop herself from hitting him again. “You told me five seconds ago, Declan! What do you think has been going through my head for weeks on end? Life doesn’t stand still here, resume when you decided to enter it. It moves, and sometimes the minutes are a bit too long when you share them with as many demons as I have.”

His hands reached for her face, in a cradle position, but not touching. “I don’t know how to tell you how I feel. How I’ve always felt. I don’t know how to ask you to wait. I can’t.”

Even if he did, she wasn’t listening to another word that came out of his mouth. Hearing that he felt anything at all, seeing what he could not say in his eyes was enough for her—her lips crashed into his.

Their kiss was hot and grasping, their touches harsh, fast, and starved. “We can’t,” he said, even though his hands were everywhere, soaking her in. He was sure that the two scraps of cloth she had on could be ripped away with little effort, hell they could stay in place for all he cared.

When her hands rushed under his shirt then dove past his waistline grasping the hard length of him, a grunt left his throat, as his kiss fell to her chin then down her neck.

His hands moved down her back, past the cup of her ass, pulling her leg up so he could find a way in. And as soon as the tips if his fingers slid inside, her hand gripped him tighter and they both moaned.

“We can’t,” he said again, even though his hips glided him along her grip. He just wanted to feel it for one more second. Her and him. He wanted to breathe in the scent of strawberries and champagne. He wanted to feel like he was home. Really home.

Justice couldn’t handle him saying no. Not because it was a confusing rejection, but because she knew it was because of others he was saying so. It wasn’t their choice. Her and him could love each other as they wished.

Right then they may be prisoners of time and circumstance but that was fine. Every prison has room to move in, and time flows. Everything is temporary.

She was taking control of this. In a beat, she had him free from his jeans and his shirt pushed as high as she cold push it, her kiss was wild as it moved down his chest, gliding her teeth across the ridged edges, shakily grinning when she felt him shudder, as she sensed every response his body was making.

He said her name, more than once, even grasped at her, but she was determined and a breath later her lips carefully slid over his crown, just as a deep, growling moan left him.

Hearing his surrender gave her reason to go slower, to drive him wild. Feeling his hand rush through her hair, how carefully controlled yet trembling his touch was, made her feel even more connected to him. Somehow she knew she may not be his first anything, she may not be his last, but she sure as hell was the only one who’d ever made him feel.

Suddenly, he pulled her up and pushed her against the wall, putting her right back in the position he had her in before, only this time, he’d managed to pull her tank up. Feeling her chest-to-chest.

He moved against her as his fingers dove deep inside swaying just so.

“Declan,” she breathed when she felt herself building.

He didn’t stop. Instead, for a moment it felt like he was everywhere, his kiss was ravenous, his touch was both hard and soft, and knew exactly how to move with her.

Each throb of her body grasped for release, she panted his name. And then she screamed it. Right as she did, she’d reached between them and grasped him working him with each pulse of her body. He let her but he pulled back a second later. His kiss broke as his forehead leaned against her collarbone and he did his best to catch his breath, come down from his own rush.

“Fuck them all,” Justice said, feeling her whole body relax, endless stress simply melting away, obliterated. “If we want this it’s ours.”

He swayed his head. “We gotta be careful. Nolan could pay the price,” he said, slipping down to a squat, still trying to catch his breath.

She followed him. “What are you talking about?” she asked, reaching for his face, pulling him to face her. It was then, after all the confusion and doubt between them had a chance to subside she saw there was more, something else ripping at him.

“Can’t find him, and the Sheriff was being a dick. Kept dropping lines on me like I was some f*cking pedophile. Not even caring.” He rose again and started to put himself back together the best he could, ending up vanishing into the bathroom for a second.

Justice paced like a lion waiting on him, but somewhere in the middle of it the smoke alarm went off and she took off toward the kitchen. She didn’t burn the brownies but came close; another burner she left on had caused the sensitive alarm to squawk.

She’d turned it off and the fan on and was pulling on a hoodie when he made it to the kitchen looking like he was ready to face any enemy.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” she asked fanning the smoke out the door.

“No one’s seen him, not one call, or letter. His phone hasn’t been used in months. He didn’t show up for his first hike.”