His gaze locked to mine and I saw the intensity in his before he gave it to me.
“And that’s where it’s at with you.”
The weight of that hit me, seven years, nobody, and then there was me, six years fighting it and now we were here.
And he was happy.
He wasn’t roaring with laughter, teasing, playful, devil-may-care happy.
But I felt his contentment. I’d seen how he was with my hair. I knew what it meant to him to be there with me.
Now I knew it even more.
And knowing it, again, a weight hit me, and I dropped my head like I couldn’t hold it up and this time did a face plant in his throat.
I felt him shift then I felt him kiss the top of my head.
“Right, Cassie, you got what you need out of me?”
I didn’t answer the question because I couldn’t believe he’d asked it considering the answer was no. Not by a long shot.
“For tonight, woman,” he went on softly. “Got about three hours of shuteye last night. I’m wiped. Need sleep.”
“Then if that’s what you need, I’ve got what I need out of you,” I replied but finished, “for tonight.”
His fingers still at my neck gave me a squeeze then he rolled us, him rolling over me so he was on the other side of the bed where the light was lit, the side of the bed he’d claimed last night.
He reached out and turned out the light while I reached down and yanked up the covers. When I got them up and was preparing to settle in, he did it for me, tucking me into his side where I had no choice but to rest my cheek on his chest, just like last night.
I relaxed into his warm solidness, like I did the night before. Like I hadn’t done it two nights in a row but like I did it every night for decades. Feeling safe and snug and content, my body pressed to his, his arm wrapped around me.
Being Deacon, he didn’t say goodnight. I was learning when he had something to say he said it but he had a variety of ways of communicating and they didn’t just come from his mouth. They included his eyes, his expressions, and his actions.
I was also learning that worked for me.
Thus, Deacon feeling his goodnight was shared by turning out the light and curling me into him, through my cheek over his heart, my hand resting on his chest, I felt his breath evening out and I knew, just like last night, he was gliding easily into sleep.
So I said what I had to say. What he had to know. What he had to carry with him all the time, when he was here and when he was away from me.
I said what I needed to give him in order to take up the challenge of making him even happier.
“I’m glad I didn’t have a man, honey.”
I knew he hadn’t drifted into sleep because when I whispered those words, his body tensed against mine, his hand resting on my waist curled in, fingers digging into my flesh just short of painfully.
He held this several beats before he relaxed, his arm gave me a slight but short squeeze, and within moments, his breaths steadied.
And there it was again.
I was right.
Deacon could communicate everything without saying a word.
And that worked for me.
Chapter Seven
That’s Why