Caged (Mastered, #4)(79)

Crap. Had she mistakenly used the appetizer plate instead of the bread plate? “What?”

“That sexy little f*cking moan you made when you were enjoying your food sounds awful damn close to the sexy little f*cking moan you make right before you come.”

That’s when she knew it was possible to blush from head to toe. “It is?”

“Yep. And that noise belongs to me. Just me.” His soft lips feathered across her jawline. “So if you keep your nonverbal approval to yourself, you’ll save my cousin a bloody lip.”

“God, Deacon. You are paranoid. I doubt Tag heard anything besides you thumping your chest every time he looked at me.”

“Oh, he heard it, all right. I saw his face. That’s why I wanna punch him in the mouth. Fucker is probably in the bathroom right now, rubbing one out.”

Ridiculous man.

“And you are gonna make them noises with me later, and it won’t be because of food.”

“I’ll do my best. But no promises if the chocolate crème br?lée with raspberry sauce tastes as orgasmic as it sounds.”

Deacon’s mouth captured hers in a kiss more seductive than any decadent dessert, and she couldn’t help but moan. He murmured, “That’s what I’m talking about, babe. That noise is mine.”

Tag returned and they finished the rest of the meal in silence.

The plates were cleared and the waiter took dessert orders.

“How long are you here for?” Molly asked Tag.


“I’ll leave after the breakfast meeting with Deacon.”

“Do you practice law outside of the family business?”

“No. JFW began as an oil company, but we’ve diversified over the years. Plenty of legal scrabbles to keep me employed and I also handle investments.”

“Oil?” She sent Deacon a sidelong glance. “Your family is in the oil business? I didn’t know that.”

“Because that’s their business, not mine. Fighting is what I do.”

“I’m a third generation oil man, as is Deacon and our cousin Clive. Granddad started the business in the 1950s.”

“Jesus, Tag. Don’t bore her to f*ckin’ death with a family history lesson.”

Two sentences wasn’t exactly a history lesson. “The only experience I’ve had with multigenerational business is farming,” Molly said, trying to smooth things over. “And not much experience, since my grandmother sold most of the farmland after my grandfather died because she didn’t have anyone to pass it down to.”

Tag lifted a brow. “You weren’t interested?”

“In farming? No. I watched my friends struggle with not wanting to take over the family farm. But most of them ended up doing it anyway.”

“That happens in a lot of family businesses—doesn’t it, Deacon?” Tag asked. “One person shirking responsibilities.”

Deacon stiffened beside her.

So much for smoothing things over. Tag seemed intent on riling Deacon.

“Not everyone is cut out to be cutthroat, Tag.”

“Says the man who beats up other men for a living.”

Tag and Deacon glared at each other.

This macho family crap drove her crazy. “So it’s just you and Clive toiling in Texas?”

“Granddad left the business to his three kids. After he passed, my dad and Deacon’s dad had to buy out Aunt Suzette’s shares, but she forced them to keep her only kid, Clive, on the payroll. If my dad and Deacon’s dad had their way, they’d continue to run the company and work past retirement age, like our granddad did, despite the road bumps JFW Development has hit recently.”

Deacon said nothing.

The waiter delivered dessert and coffee, interrupting the awkward silence.

Molly nearly drooled over the luscious caramelized crust and the artful drizzle of raspberry sauce across the plate. A cluster of chocolate-covered raspberries on mint sprigs completed the presentation. “This looks almost too beautiful to eat.”

Deacon picked up her spoon and cracked the crust, scooping out a bite of the crème br?lée. “Open,” he said huskily.

She parted her lips, and the smooth creaminess flowed across her taste buds. She managed—barely—not to moan with delight.

A devilish light entered Deacon’s eyes, and he took a bite, since he’d forgone a dessert of his own. “Almost as sweet as your kisses, darlin’.”

Molly popped a chocolate-covered raspberry in her mouth. Don’t moan. But it definitely deserved a moan.

“Speaking of sweet, D, hand me the sugar, please,” Tag said.

“One of these days you’ll learn to drink your coffee like a man, without all that froufrou shit.”

“If I stirred it with my dick, would that make me more of a manly coffee drinker?”

Deacon held his hands up. “Go for it. It’d be a change for you, having blisters on your dick from something besides excessive use of the palm of your hand.”

These two. God. They fought like siblings. “Deacon is the only one not involved in the family business?”

“Yes, but I’d argue that Clive isn’t contributing much,” Tag said dryly.

“As an only child myself, I find it interesting that all of your parents had only one kid.”