Page 72 of Hold the Line

“Right there, right there, right there,” she chanted. Her neck arched, and her mouth fell open in a soundless cry as I ground my pelvis into her, hard against soft.

I fucked her like that, planted deep, rocking against her clit, until a faint scream broke free and she bowed into me, hands slapping on my shoulders, head thrashing wildly.

Beautiful.

Once again, my control was yanked from my hands, and I had no choice but to move with the tide slamming me into her. Primal instinct guided me. Shoving her onto her back, I hooked my arms beneath her knees, lifting them high and wide. Her nails clawed at my biceps and shoulders as I pounded relentlessly.

We were eye to eye, locked on each other. Sweat glistened like dew on her flesh. Our bodies were slippery from it. My gut was taut, cock so hard it was painful, and my chest ached from the emotion pouring out of my heart. Glorious pain rode me, and there was no shrugging it off. I had to take the pain to get to the blissful pleasure within reach.

Her hands clapped onto my cheeks. “Come in me, Deke.”

“Deacon,” I grunted. That was hers. I only ever wanted her to call me that.

“Deacon, honey. Come inside me.”

There was no denying this woman a single thing. My body answered her call again, spilling so forcefully I fell over her, unable to hold myself up anymore. Her arms came around me, clasping me to her while I shook.

“Honey,” she whispered beside my ear. “Perfect.”

I didn’t know if that was true, but right now, feeling like I did, I was inclined to believe her.

“Yeah, baby.” I touched my lips to her temple and sighed. “Perfect.”

We ended up in Phoebe’s apartment a little while later since my fridge was barren. She had food, and we were both starving. We ate, talked about nothing of consequence, and watched a true crime documentary.

We’d had a couple heavy hours, and my emotions were still a little frayed, but Phoebe had worked a miracle and pulled me back with her. By the end of the night, I was prepared for whatever came next.

At least, I thought I was until Phoebe invited me to sleep at her place. I should’ve seen that coming, but I hadn’t been thinking too far ahead.

She took my hand in both of hers. “Stay.”

“I, uh”—I looked away, unsure how to answer her—“I don’t know if I can sleep next to you.”

“Oh.” It was like I’d punched her in the face. Her hands slipped from mine, and she fell back against the couch cushion, deflated.

“Shit, Phoebe, I meant…I don’t know if I can sleep next toanyone.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s hard for me to shut down at night. I’ve had to be alert since I was a kid, and my years in prison didn’t help. I’m up and down all night when I’m on my own, and I can’t be sure how I’ll handle sharing a bed with you when I’m not delirious with fever. Believe me when I say I want to. More than anything, but—”

“Okay.” She leaned into me, wrapping her hand around the side of my neck. “That’s a much better answer than your first one.”

I exhaled a heavy breath and gripped her nape. “After everything you gave me tonight, I don’t want it to end. Not ever. I just don't know how it’ll go.”

“I hear you.” She rubbed her lips together, and I could almost see the gears turning behind her melted chocolate eyes. “How about this? Come to bed with me. If it’s not working, you can go right upstairs to your place. I won’t be offended if you leave since I understand the reason now.”

I nodded, liking her plan even though I was already sure I’d end up at home before dawn broke. “It’s not like I have to go far.” And if I got to spend a little more time with her, it’d be worth it.

“No, you don’t. So, we’ll try it and see.”

I waited in her room while she got ready for bed in the bathroom. When she was done, we switched places, but I stopped short in the doorway, my gaze locking on what had been left for me on the counter.

A toothbrush, new in the package.

My mouth twitched at the color: bright pink. I checked the toothbrush holder. Phoebe’s was baby pink. We’d be able to tell ours apart.

My stomach knotted. A tangled mix of pleasure and something a lot like pain. Every little thing I learned about Phoebe pulled me in deeper—made me like her even more than I already did, and that was a lot. But moments like this, her quiet, simple gestures she probably didn’t think twice about, staggered me.

I wasn’t used to this sort of kindness—not when it didn’t come with strings. Accepting I could be given something for absolutely no reason other than the person wanting to do it was hard for me. It drove Chris and Tilly crazy.

But Phoebe? This was who she was. A giver. If I pushed back, if I let my own hang-ups get in the way, I’d only hurt her.

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