Page 28 of Crashed
“I’m hard”—he grabbed her wrist when she tried to cover his mouth again—“on those that deserve it. Otherwise I’m a pushover.” He arched a brow, that grin getting bigger.
“You have a dirty mind, Miss Franco.” And before she could pull her hand away, he placed it over the massive bulge straining the front of his very nice, very expensive trousers.
“And this is what you do to me.”
Goddamn. Right now, he was doing things to her as well.
She squeezed the ridged flesh beneath her hand, and he sucked in a breath. “You’re such a perv.”
He barked a laugh. “My condition is completely your fault.” He pulled her hand away and held it tight in his. “Now stop trying to seduce me.”
She snorted. “I’m doing no such thing. You kind of remind me of that creepy kid at high school… What was his name again? Robert? Roger? Roger Edgar. That’s it.
He spent all his time darting around corners, hiding the tent pole in his pants. Get some self-control, dude.”
He released her hand. “Creepy? Roger freaking Edgar?”
This was fun. She was actually enjoying herself. She shrugged. “You’re the one sitting there with a boner. You’ll terrify your charity guys, walking in with that thing pointing at them.” The look on his face was priceless, and unable to rein it in, she laughed her ass off. When she finally got herself somewhat together, she glanced over at him, and the remaining chuckles died a sudden death. The heat aimed her way should have turned her to ash.
He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You can deny it all you like, but I know you’re wet right now, and if we were on our own, I’d pull the car over and fuck you with my fingers until I was covered in you. I’d make you scream my name until you were clenching helplessly around me, begging me to slide my cock inside you.”
She was close to begging now. “Deacon…” she started.
“So, how was your day?” He sat back in his seat, like he hadn’t just set her underwear on fire with those whispered words. “Have the restoration jobs come in?”
Shit. If he could turn it off just like that, no way was she giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her. She did her best to appear unaffected and smirked. “Worried?
Afraid we might actually prove you wrong?”
He looked down at her, gaze so intense she shivered. “I know you don’t believe this, but I don’t want you to fail.”
Her stomach flipped, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. “Yeah, right,” she choked out.
He chuckled. “Stubborn.”
She lightly punched him on the arm. “You love it.”
Those extraordinary green eyes darkened. “You’re right. I do.”
Her mouth went dry, and she forced a careless laugh even though the blood was pumping through her veins fast enough to make her light-headed. The car slowed, then pulled to a stop. Thank God. “Oh, look, we’re here.”
“So we are,” he said, humor in his voice.
They climbed out, and Deacon rested his hand on the small of her back, steering her into Jaspers. She’d always wondered what it looked like inside the exclusive members—only club. The lighting was soft, and a guy played piano in the corner. The walls were dark wood, as were the tables and chairs. There were several deep red couches placed around the room, and the waitresses wore flapper-style dresses. The whole ambience was ultra-cool, totally chic and sophisticated, but somehow warm and welcoming.
“Shit,” Deacon said under his breath.
“What?” She looked up at him, and her stomach dropped at what she saw.
“I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t know they were bringing their wives.”
Great.
His hand settled on her waist as he led her toward a table off to the far side. Both the men sitting there looked older than Deke; the women, she guessed, were a similar age to her. And that’s where the similarities ended. They were all hair and legs and caked-on makeup. “Jesus,” she said under her breath.
“Yeah,” Deacon agreed. “Watch Tammy, the brunette—she can be a catty bitch.”
“Awesome.”
