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He kissed my shoulder. “I wanted to last longer, but your little cunt clamped down on me, and that was fucking it for me. Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”
“Ditto,” I said, my voice still full of that weird bewilderment.
We cuddled quietly. I needed time to recover from whatever had just happened, and maybe Deacon sensed that, or maybe he needed his own time to recover. It was over an hour later before he stirred against me. “It’s getting late.”
My hand tightened around the arm still slung across my body. I didn’t want Deacon to leave. Bracing myself for his rejection, I said, “You could stay the night.”
“You sure?” he asked. “You don’t mind?”
Relief pouring through me, I said, “No. I’d like you to stay.”
He held me tighter. “Then I’ll stay.”
CHAPTER 32
Riley
I took a sip of coffee, grimacing when the familiar chime of my mother’s text broke the quiet. It was just after five thirty in the morning, and panic washed over me. She never texted this early.
I grabbed my phone, scanning the text as a fist squeezed my heart.
Mom
Sweetie, I know you usually send extra money on Thursday, but can you send it to us today? We’re low on groceries.
I sagged against the counter, my relief quickly turning to guilt at the thought of my parents going without food. I glanced at the closed bathroom door before replying.
Riley
Sorry, Mom. I won’t have any extra until tomorrow.
Mom
Are you sure you can’t send some today? We’re short on food.
Riley
I won’t get paid until tomorrow, but I’ll send it as soon as I have it. Love you.
I waited for her reply, but she hadn’t replied by the time Deacon came out of the bathroom. I shoved my phone into my robe pocket and smiled at him. “Do you want a coffee before you go?”
He shook his head, bending to kiss me. “No time. It snowed again last night, so it’ll take me longer to get home.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Worth it,” he said with a wink before grabbing my coffee from the counter and taking a sip.
I poked his flat stomach. “I thought you didn’t have time for a coffee.”
“Not my own, but yours, sure,” he said.
My phone chimed with another text from my mom. My stomach churning, I said, “Hey, um, you haven’t booked me for our usual Wednesday night.”
Deacon paused with my coffee cup halfway to his mouth. Hurt flashed across his face, and my churning stomach got worse. He stepped away and set the mug on the counter.
He stared at me, the hurt still stamped across his face - the hurt I’d caused. “You want me to book you for tonight?”
My voice pitched high with nerves, I said, “Well, I mean… you usually do, so I thought that…”
