“Anything.”
Anything.
My smile came back as a small grin. Then I took a deep breath.
“The thirty-eight women…” I said, trailing off.
“Few before Jeannie, most of them after she died. Lookin’ back, I was subconsciously tryin’ to find my way back to clean. None of them did it for me. So, as you know, I quit lookin’.”
“I get that.”
“Good,” he murmured.
“And the non-PDA?” I went on.
“What?”
“You don’t touch me much in public, Deacon. You’re very affectionate but not when other people are around.”
“You want that?”
“Well…yeah. If it’s in you to give.”
“I’ll give it to you.”
“But did you not do it because—?”
“I didn’t do it because, my hands on you, that tended to lead to something.”
I stared at him. “I’m pretty sure you can control your base instincts.”
“I can. But my dick has a mind of its own around you. Don’t need to be fightin’ gettin’ hard while a ten-year-old kid is interrogatin’ me about my life.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, getting it.
“Or when I’m walkin’ down the aisle in a grocery store.”
I started grinning.
Deacon watched my mouth, muttering, “I see she gets me.”
“I get you.”
His eyes came to mine. “I’ll get over that, woman, I get used to you.”
He was teasing.
“Then I’ll have to keep giving it to you good so you don’t,” I retorted.
His thumb slid over my lips again with his eyes watching as he said, “She likes me hard.”
“Absolutely.”
His eyes came back to mine and they were dancing.
I leaned in and touched my lips to his.
When I pulled back, I asked, “When’s your birthday?”