Page 57 of Crocodile Tears
With that, he wandered off, leaving me reeling. All the things he’d said to me, I knew, would be erased with the daylight, butGod did it feel good to hear them. I probably should've just let him kiss me, but knowing he was spurred on by alcohol hurt too much. It would just be a crazy memory I could tuck away when I headed back to Prickle Island tomorrow. Deacon would go on being one of the most famous men in the world, but for a little while in the wee hours of the night, it had been fun to pretend that he was mine.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dove
I sat on the countertop next to the coffee maker, swinging my legs as my third cup of espresso was churning out of the machine beside me. In a baggy old zoo shirt and checker-print sleep shorts, I was too tired to navigate to the dining table until at least my third cup. I’d managed to sleep in until 8 am which, for me, was massive. I wondered if Deacon would even wake up before I had to leave to catch my train in a couple hours. Maybe it would be better if I just skirted out the door before he woke . . .
One more coffee. Then I’ll leave.
My mind was sleep-addled, still hazy from the whir of events that had taken place the day before. What a night. The fundraiser had been nerve-wracking and glitzy and overwhelmingly successful, but the part I would treasure the most was the simple act of sitting on a couch with my old best friend, watching our favorite shows together, and eatingpopcorn. That would be the part I’d miss most when I got on the train, more than the glamor, more than even that scorching drunken kiss we’d shared. I’d miss the way he felt so right sitting beside me, being my person, easy as that. In another universe, maybe he would’ve been.
I pulled my mug out from under the machine and started pouring milk into it, when Deacon's bedroom door opened.
He emerged rubbing a hand down his face, lines still streaking his cheek from his pillow. His expression looked somewhat hungover, but not nearly as bad as some of my siblings after a night out at the Salty Dog. Lark would forever win for world’s worst hangover, but the memory of that day tumbled from my mind as Deacon stepped into the room. He wore low slung gray sweatpants and a tight black T-shirt. My stomach flipped at the sight of him all sleepy and disheveled.
“Morning,” I said cheerily, determined not to bring up last night or ruin our reigniting friendship by telling him all the things he’d said. “I'll let you have this cup of coffee. There's also some painkillers and a giant water on the island, which you should definitely drink, and before you ask, no, I am not taking my own advice.”
Deacon seemed to ignore that statement as he sleepily wandered over toward the coffee maker. But instead of going for the coffee, his eyes hooked with mine and he started walking faster.
“I remember,” he said and grabbed me and kissed me.
It took a second for me to catch up to his words, frozen and reeling as his lips slid across mine. He remembered what he'd said to me last night.
He remembered.
He remembered all of those sweet, heartbreaking words, all the things he thought about me, all the things he felt for me and me for him in return. He remembered...and hemeant it?
My body finally caught up and my hands snaked up his back as my mouth fused to his. The kiss was a frenzy fifteen years in the making. We unleashed ourselves on each other, and all the while my brain kept singing:this is real, this is real, this is real!
Deacon Harrow, the first boy I’d ever kissed. Deacon Harrow, my best friend. Deacon Harrow, the movie star and rock star and nerd who my twelve-year-old heart never truly recovered from, waskissing me.
Deacon groaned into my mouth as his hands roved down my curves and kneaded into my ass, pulling my hips flush with his. I let out a surprised gasp at his possessive grip as he rocked me against his growing erection.
“Tell me you want me.” He groaned, his mouth drifting from mine to kiss down my neck.
“I want you,” I urged as I frantically grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged. “I’ve always wanted you.”
He let me yank his T-shirt off and throw it across the room, a hungry smile on his lips. My eyes dropped to the coin hanging around his neck, rising and falling with each heaving breath. I leaned in and planted a kiss directly above it.
“Dove,” Deacon panted. “I?—”
“Take me to your bedroom,” I cut in, terrified that I knew exactly what he was about to say and not knowing if I’d be able to survive hearing it.
Deacon didn’t need to be asked twice. My wicked smile stretched as he scooped me up by the ass. I wrapped my legs around his hips, needing us to be so much closer, trying to fuse us together. Our mouths collided again as Deacon blindly stumbled across his apartment and we collapsed onto his bed. His warm chest pinned me into the mattress as his hips nestled between mine, and he kissed me so deeply it felt like my world titled on its axis. Everything was suddenly upside down . . . or maybe, for the first time in my life, it was right side up.
Deacon started pulling my shirt up and I instinctively pushed it back down. Suddenly, I remembered that this guy was used to getting into bed with Victoria’s Secret models and a flash of nerves shot through me. What if hot celebrity sex was different? What if I wasn’t good enough? What if he expected me to rival them? What if one failed fuck ruined all of the building tension between us?
Even as my emotions roiled up within me, I realized I was still rocking against him, unable to stay still with him on top of me.
Deacon tried to lift my shirt again. “Don’t you dare pull away from me,” he rumbled as he nibbled on my earlobe. “Never with me, Dove. I want all of you.”
My heart ached with that pleading, how badly he wanted me to bare myself to him—not just my body but my heart. I saw it in his eyes more than the lust or hunger, more than everything else. He was begging me to trust him, tolovehim.
And despite all my nerves and reservations, I wanted him to know that I did trust him, knew that he would never fumble my heart. I yanked my shirt up as he grabbed the waistband of my shorts, and I lifted my hips so he could pull them off. Pajamas discarded, I lay there bare before him.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, eyes devouring me. “God, I imagined this moment so many times,” he confessed with a disbelieving shake of his head. “But even my fantasies never did you justice.”
“I’ve thought about this so many times too,” I confessed.
