Caged (Mastered, #4)(42)
In the living room, Molly was hitting her fists into the window frame, which appeared to be painted shut.
“Trying to break your hand?”
“Ha. I’m trying to open the windows. It’s so stuffy in here I can’t breathe.” She grunted and banged into the wood even harder.
“Move.”
“There’s a trick to this; I just can’t remember what it is.”
He crowded her, intending to elbow her aside, but she whirled around and slapped her palms on his chest. “Whoa there, big guy. It’s not a big deal if I hurt my hand, but yours are a different story.”
“Babe. I ain’t gonna hurt myself opening a f*cking window.”
“That’s right. Because your job is to stand there looking all hot, scowly, menacing badass while I do it.”
“Christ. I remember when we first met you couldn’t even look me in the eye. Now you’re bossing me around and insulting me.”
“Turns you on, doesn’t it?” she said with a sexy purr before she faced the window again and smacked her palms along the top of the sill.
Deacon circled her wrists with his fingers, pulling her arms above her head and pressing his groin into her ass. “Know what really turns me on? Imagining how hot it’ll be when I take you like this.”
She melted against him. “Deacon.”
“Fuck, woman. What you do to me.” He let his lips follow the curve of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “And the things I want to do to you.”
The front door slammed against the wall.
When Molly jumped back, he moved into her space and pounded his fists into the wood casing until the window opened.
“Show-off.”
Jennifer stormed in, dragging a trash can to the dining room table. “For years I’ve been looking forward to throwing away all this crap. Who keeps magazines, knitting patterns and old Christmas cards?”
“Don’t throw out any pictures, ledgers, or records. Put anything you’re not sure of, like the crocheted afghans, in the kitchen, and we’ll go through it later.”
Jennifer got right in Molly’s face. “You may own half of this house now, but what’s inside belongs to us. Not you. You’re not in charge. I am. I want this shit done. The auction house will be by later today. Sort the stuff upstairs first.”
Deacon was disappointed when Molly said, “Aye-aye,” but didn’t salute.
In Molly’s old room, Deacon noticed the twin bed had been stripped. A cheap pressboard desk and an old metal chair were shoved against the wall. A battered chest of drawers anchored the opposite end of the room. No posters or plaques adorned the walls. “Did your room always look like this?”
“Jennifer and Brandi wrecked anything nice, so after a while I didn’t bother making it personal.”
“It sucks that not even this was a private space for you growing up.”
“Makes me appreciate the freedom to decorate however I want—even with flowers and lace and shit.”
“Hilarious.”
She checked the closet and every dresser drawer. “This room is done. Guest bedroom is next.”
Deacon hauled in the garbage can, but the room was already sparse. A double bed, a dresser, and a bentwood rocker. He leaned against the doorjamb, watching Molly rifle through the contents of the drawers and dump everything into the trash.
The two plastic tubs she’d designated for keepsakes were both empty.
“What can I do? I’m just standing around.”
“Take down the curtains?”
That killed four minutes.
“Now what?”
“A big, strong man like you could probably lift that bed frame with one hand.”
Deacon did just that.
Laughing, she yanked out the oval rug beneath the metal feet. “Be still my heart.”
He snagged her around the waist and pulled her close.
“What?”
“Gimme that mouth.” Her lips parted on a soft sigh, which he caught as he kissed her. Normally he wasn’t a kissing guy, but being mouth-to-mouth with her punched all his buttons.
The stairs creaked and she broke the kiss. “Stop tempting me away from work.”
He smirked. “Not sorry.”
“I know. Make yourself useful.” She pointed to the garbage. “Take that out and dump it.”
Deacon was in the kitchen when he heard the front door open. A male voice called out, “Molly?”
Fast footsteps sounded above his head. “Omigod, Tim? Is that really you?”
“In the flesh, baby.”
Molly let out a happy shriek.
What the hell? Deacon moved to the open doorway and watched as Molly flew down the steps and launched herself at another man.
“I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I came as soon as I heard. Sorry I missed the funeral.” Then he planted his mouth on hers in a really f*cking far-from-friendly kiss.
Then Mr. Soon-to-Be-Bleeding framed Molly’s face in his hands and spoke softly to her.
Jennifer sidled up next to him. “Why the angry look, Deacon? Surely since you and Molly are involved, you know all about Tim.”
“Who is he?”
“Her best friend from high school. They were constantly together. She mooned over him like a lovesick calf. I think he dated her out of pity. But now that she’s not such a porker . . . maybe you’d better watch your back.”