The Man Who Has No Sight - Victoria Quinn Page 0,59
staying overnight at my mom’s.”
“He is?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah. Thought we could fuck on the couch like we used to.” It was not romantic at all, but to me, it was romantic as hell. He gave me a slight smile from his side of the car, the interior lights highlighting his handsome face in the perfect way.
“That sounds really nice. Good thing I’m wearing lingerie underneath this dress.” I pulled up my dress to highlight the bodysuit underneath.
His smile faded, and his eyes were focused on the peek of lace he got to see. Even when I pulled my dress down, he continued to stare at the spot, like he was so excited he didn’t know what to do. “Baby, I fucking love you.” His hand went to my thigh, and he gave me a squeeze, kneading my thigh with his aggressive fingertips.
I grabbed his hand and placed it under my dress, so he could feel the crotchless opening. “I know you do.”
Once we walked in the door, the lustful energy was immediately shattered when he noticed what I’d mounted on the wall. Above the fireplace and the mantel was his Nobel. The fire was already burning because I’d asked Matt to take care of it, to create the ambiance before we stepped inside the residence.
Deacon stopped and stared at it, seconds turning into minutes.
I came to his side, waiting for some kind of reaction to figure out if he liked it or not. Maybe I should have let him do it himself. Maybe he had a different spot in mind. Maybe I’d overstepped my boundaries. “It’s not permanent. We can always move it—”
“I’m just a little overwhelmed right now.” He turned his head toward me. “I just… I have so many bad feelings about that medal, and to see the contrast in real time…it’s hard to process.”
“Well, I don’t want you to have bad feelings about it.”
“I don’t think I do anymore. I think…that’s just an old memory. This is my life now. I found the woman I’m supposed to be with, and that’s even more clear when I see that hanging proudly in our living room.” His eyes caught the light of the fire, his brown eyes dangerous but affectionate at the same time.
Our living room.
“I was bitter and broken.” He turned his body into mine, his arms circling my waist. “But you made me whole. She manipulated me, lied to me, tricked me to get me to stay. But you made me forget all that…made me trust again.”
My eyes softened, and then the guilt started to hurt my stomach.
His hands moved into my hair, and he kissed me in front of the fire, deep and purposeful kisses, his mouth tilting from side to side, his breaths changing from deep to slow, from desperate to peaceful.
His kiss was the most potent drug. It pulled me into the moment and made me abandon everything else. It made me feel safe…like nothing else mattered.
Thirteen
Deacon
I felt like shit.
I almost called the whole thing off.
Leaving the country, leaving my son and Cleo, felt so goddamn wrong right now. It was the same dread I’d felt when I left Valerie and moved to New York, but my rage kept me going, convinced me that I needed to do that for my own sanity.
This wasn’t the same at all. I’d only be gone for a week.
It would pass so quickly.
But it still felt like straight-up abandonment.
Valerie was out of the country, and I would be out of the country. I wasn’t worried about Cleo’s ability to take care of my son while I was gone, but I felt odd leaving him there without his mother or father.
And I just didn’t want to leave Cleo…because I would miss her.
I’d have to sleep alone every night, in a big bed in a hotel room, lonely.
I rolled the suitcase to the lobby then stopped to the left of the doorway. My driver was parked outside, but we stayed inside because it was way too cold to stand on the street corner for our goodbyes.
I kneeled and addressed Derek first. “I’m gonna miss you, little man.”
“I’ll miss you too. But you’re only going to be gone for a week.” Derek took my departure well, not even slightly uncomfortable by the fact that both his mother and I wouldn’t be around. It didn’t cause him unease or anxiety at all, probably because Cleo had become a mother to him, a better mother than his own had been.