Reaching out, I slide my hand down his arm. “Tell me what happened.”
Blue eyes meet mine, and he’s not smiling. “My grandmother was a beautiful woman. People who knew her said she was the most beautiful woman they’d ever seen.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Two men loved her… best friends. She married the rich one, my grandfather.” He blinks over my shoulder, and my heart beats faster. “But after seven or so years, she had an affair. She got pregnant and went to her friend in Harristown to give birth.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She was afraid my grandfather would see the baby and know what she’d done.”
My voice is quiet, my insides trembling. “How would he know?”
“The baby’s father was Manuel Treviño.”
My grandfather. My throat knots, and I stand, walking slowly around my room, thinking about this, about what he just told me. “You mean… your grandmother had an affair with my grandfather? How is it possible?”
“Apparently, they knew each other. Our grandfathers were friends.”
“And your grandmother…”
“It explains the bad blood between our families.” He’s sitting on the foot of my bed watching me. “My grandfather must have found out.”
“So you think Beto is telling the truth?” It feels like a weight is sitting on my chest. “You think your grandfather shot mine?”
Deacon’s eyes drop to his hands. “I think I found a motive…”
Honor… Loyalty to your family… Our father died a broken man…
My brother’s angry words are in my brain, squeezing my heart and twisting my insides. Shaking my head, I don’t want to think about these events that have nothing to do with us.
“I understand if you want me to go.”
“No!” Crossing the room quickly, I climb onto his lap in a straddle, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my chest to his. “I want you to stay.”
Strong arms are around me, holding me close. We’re breathing fast, our hearts beating quickly. We take several long moments, letting the truth of our family’s history settle in the spaces around us.
I want to cry. I want to crawl under the blankets with him and hide. I want to go back to the way things used to be. “Remember when it was only us?”
“It was never only us.” His voice is quiet.
“We could still pretend.” My arms are around him, and I hold on tight. I never want to let go.
He exhales and his arms relax. Sitting up, I find his beautiful face, sexy lips curl slightly. It’s the first hint of a smile he’s given me since he returned. It helps my muscles relax. It gives me the smallest bit of hope.
He slides a curl behind my ear with his fingers. “We can’t live our lives that way. We have to figure out what to do.”
“I don’t know…” I kiss his cheek, moving closer to his ear. “I can ignore them for a little while. Pretend this history isn’t ours… it’s not our problem.”
“We do have other things going on in our lives.”
Sitting up, I meet his gaze. “Really exciting things.”
That gets me a smile, the ghost of a dimple in his cheek, and my stomach warms. “Tell me about your week. I want to know more about this mysterious portrait commission.”
My stomach is tight, but I don’t want to let anything burst our bubble. “She’s a very rich old woman, very difficult. But I’m building a bridge.”
“Like Winona Judd?” He leans forward, tracing his lips along mine, tickling my insides with heat.
“It’s a popular name.”
“If anyone can do it, you can.”
We spend the next several minutes lost in a haze of lust and heat and kisses. Deacon slides his mouth into my hair, pulling on the shell of my ear. Whispering hot promises of what he wants to do to me. I’m lost in the sensation of his lips against mine, his hands, his touch.
His dick is hard on my thigh, and he groans roughly. “I left my car out front in plain sight of everyone.”
I stand, lowering the sweatpants I’m wearing and climbing him in a straddle. “Then we’d better make this quick.”
Rising onto my knees, I cover his mouth with mine, sliding my tongue along his as his long fingers thread in the side of my panties, gripping my ass. My center heats, and I move against him.
His fingers trace a line to the middle of my thighs, and I exhale a moan as he drags them up and down my clit, circling and massaging as I ride his hand.
My voice breaks with desire. “I need you now.”
Our hands fumble together, unfastening his pants, lowering them so his cock springs free, so I can line it up and drop, closing my eyes as he fills me, moaning so loud, his large hand fumbles to cover my mouth, thick fingers slipping between my teeth.
My pelvis rocks, and I’m grinding. His face is in my hair, close to my ear, so I can hear his rough breathing, his groans of desire.
“Angel…” It’s a hiss of need as his hips lift, driving his cock deeper into me.
His brow furrows, and he lies back on my bed. I lean forward on him, riding fast and hard, feeling the sensations as they whip me higher, tighter, twisting my insides. My breasts bounce, nipples tight, and I can’t get enough.
My thighs tighten, my insides tighten, the friction is more than I can bear. My brain is on fire, and I can’t slow the movements of my body. It’s primal, instinctive. I’m chasing the orgasm that’s so close… right there…
“Oh, God…” I gasp as it breaks. My legs shudder, and my back arches as the pleasure shoots through me like a shock. “Oh…” I can’t stop the release.
Deacon’s hands tighten on my ass, gripping me and moving me up and down on his cock as he breaks.
I feel him pulsing. His lips are at my ear as he comes. “Angel…” It’s half-prayer, half-groan, causing my core to squeeze.
We hold each other, not caring about the world around us, not worried about the hate or who might find us. We’re like we’ve always been, in our own place of love and desire and need and satisfaction.
Deacon holds me, rolling us to the side so I’m facing him on the bed. He kisses my nose, my cheek, my lips. “I love you so much.”
My heart warms, and I rise up to kiss him back. “I love you.”
“Little seductress.” He exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “What will I do with you?”
“Stay with me forever.”
“If only.” He starts to rise, but I hold him.
“Deacon…”
“Angel…” He leans down again, resting his head against my breast. “You make it so hard for me.”
“Why should I make it easy?” I grin, holding him, loving how hard it is for him to leave me.
He starts to laugh. “Your brother threatened to shoot me if he caught me with you again.”
Everything inside me freezes, and my grip relaxes. “What did you say?”
I remember Beto’s gun, his anger, his hatred of everything Dring.
The teasing grin on Deacon’s face falters, and he seems to catch himself. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”