Deacon (Unfinished Hero #4)(64)

“Fuck, can you get any better?”

God, that felt good.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“I do,” he returned. “Face made up, hair like that, a bra I wanna see, every day it gets f*ckin’ better.”

Feelings so beautiful swept through me, I closed my eyes so I could concentrate on their exquisiteness.

“Here,” Deacon ordered.

I opened my eyes. “I can’t. I’m still freaked about what playing means at the same time processing how magnificent you are.”

That was when the mask obliterated and raw suffused his face.

Not raw badness.

Raw goodness.

I gave that to him. Me. All that goodness there for me to read on his face, it was me who gave that to him.

My heart leaped.

“Here,” he growled.

My heart stopped leaping and my lips turned down. “Seriously, you’re gonna have to stop doing that. You want me, I’m right here.”

I said the words and then Deacon was right there. He’d tossed the ropes to the bed and when he made it to me, his hand clutched in my done up hair, his other arm around me holding me snug to his body, face an inch from mine.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, but a pain in my goddamned ass,” he muttered.

“Same here, Supreme Leader of the Badasses.”

“Case in point.”

“You’re messing up my hair.”

“Another case in point.”

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stand there, messing up my hair and annoying me?”

He stared into my eyes and changed the subject.

“One woman on the planet who doesn’t need makeup, she’s you.”

I shivered with glee at the compliment but still rolled my eyes to the ceiling and told it, “Now he’s messing up my hair and being sweet.”

“Don’t need it, but you look good in it,” he stated.

Totally worth the time to get dolled up.

I looked back at him and bossed, “Stop. I already almost had a spontaneous orgasm and I’m gonna freak Milagros and Manuel out because they’ve never seen me in makeup, or with a guy for that matter, except you the other day, of course. Which, in case you missed it, freaked them out. Now I’m getting all warm and squishy. They’re Mexican. They’re Catholic. They don’t cuss and I’ve never seen Milagros show even a hint of cleavage, much less a bra strap. We need to practice decorum.”

“We can do that in the truck on the way there.”

“Okay, then you need to get a move on with practicing non-decorum so we can get on our way there.”

His lips quirked. “Spontaneous orgasm?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“Binding you to the bed tonight, woman.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling again even though that caused a full-on tremble. “God, help. He’s not listening to me.”

“Cassie?”

I looked again to him. “What?”

“Best lay, bar none. Funniest bitch, bar none. Finest woman, bar none. And all of that better every day.”

His words made me drop my head and do a face plant in his shirt because I couldn’t hold it up anymore. I added my weight because I couldn’t stand on my own anymore either.

Deacon slid his hand down to curl it around the back of my neck.

“Can’t kiss you with your face in my chest,” he noted.

“You shouldn’t call women bitches,” I whispered.

His body shook with his chuckles, shaking me with it.

It felt beautiful.

I kept whispering when I remarked, “I’m making you happy.”

I felt his word stir the top of my hair when he replied, “Yeah.”

I closed my eyes.

Now that felt good.

“We need to get on our way, baby,” he said into my hair. “Give me a kiss.”

I took in a deep breath before I tipped my head back and rolled up on my toes.

Then I gave him a kiss. It was wet and sweet and I knew I was going to remember it my whole life.

When Deacon broke it off, I put in some earrings, clasped on a necklace, slid on a couple of rings, and donned my flip-flops.

After that, Deacon took my hand and off we went to have dinner with my friends.

* * * * *

“Do you play football?”

“No.”

“Did you?”

“Do you?”

“Not yet. Papá says I can do Junior Football League next year.”

“What position you want?”

“Quarterback.”

“Nice.”

I sat next to Deacon on Milagros and Manuel’s couch, watching this exchange between him and Esteban, thinking he actually was the Supreme Leader of the Badasses. This was mostly because, when we arrived fifteen minutes ago, Esteban started his inquisition and hadn’t let up and Deacon had answered every question, but half of them he answered without answering.

“Cállate, Estito, with you asking so many questions, Señor Priest hasn’t even been able to take a sip from his beer,” Silvia remonstrated.

She wasn’t wrong.

“Be nice, mija,” Manuel gently rebuked.

Her cheeks got pink, her eyes skittered to Deacon, they got pinker, and she looked to her lap.