Not only in his arms but his mouth was on mine and his tongue was sweeping inside.
That was when he was in my arms, seeing as I’d wrapped them around his shoulders.
The kiss was hard, it was heated, it was hungry, it was long, and it was beautiful.
Deacon ended it by shoving his face in my neck, his hand cupping the back of my head, guiding my face into his neck, his other arm holding me tight to his body.
As for me, I had one arm around his shoulders, fingers in his hair, one arm around him, forearm angled up his back.
I held tight too.
“Missed you,” I whispered into his skin.
Deacon didn’t reply, but he did. And he did by squeezing me so hard, his fingers digging into my scalp, I found it difficult to breath.
He released the pressure but still held me snug to his frame.
I turned my head and asked against the hinge of his jaw, “Have you had dinner?”
“Baby,” he replied, and my insides melted and that was even before he got to the good part. “You think, I got that job done, I stopped to eat on my way to you?”
It was my turn to reply nonverbally and I did this by clutching him even tighter.
“Feed me,” he ordered into my neck. “Then I’ll fuck you.”
That was definitely a deal.
Before I could share that with him, his head shot up, his neck twisting. I looked at his profile and saw his eyes narrowed.
Then he looked down at me. “Company.”
I stared at him for a beat before I looked around him, Deacon turning slightly, and I saw the nose of Milagros and Manuel’s SUV butting beyond my house.
“Your girl,” Deacon said, obviously having taken note of the car Milagros drove.
“She does this, pops by,” I told him. “She worries about me. So does Manuel.”
Deacon said nothing to this, just watched me say it, no chin dip or head tipping to share he heard it. Still, I knew he heard it.
Then, strangely, his gaze shifted high but toward the trees, yet I knew not to the trees. They were focused but unfocused. It was weird, I could tell he was taking note of something, I just didn’t know what.
I didn’t have the chance to ask before I heard Esteban, Milagros and Manuel’s oldest boy, shout, “Tía Cassidy! We have hot fudge!”
I stood still, letting Deacon guide this. Another thing it occurred to me right then that I knew about him was that he was observant. He had to know Milagros and I were close.
So he had to make the decision of what would come next.
He did.
And to my way of thinking, it was the right one.
He let me go, wrapped his big hand around mine (and when he did, my heart clutched because I missed feeling his hand around mine), and he pulled me toward the door, through it, the kitchen, and the foyer.
It was him who opened the front door but he did it hauling me to his side, hand still in mine.
I wanted to laugh at what happened next, I really did. But I loved Milagros and Manuel too much to do it.
This was because, the minute Deacon opened the door, Milagros’s head visibly jerked and then her body shot straight as a board, her eyes on Deacon. Manuel blinked and his mouth dropped open, his eyes also on Deacon.