Page 36 of Love You To Pieces

My love?

Is Fox married? If so, does his partner know what he is? What he does, or⁠—

“Let her hear.” Deacon’s rough response is a snarl, more than his normal voice, and my stomach twists in shock.

No way.

“Did you have fun playing with her earlier?” he taunts, still with an edge to his tone. “Brushing her hair, singing your favorite songs to her? Was she just horrified to know what you like to listen to—” He gasps suddenly, like he was forced to come to a halt, and for a few moments, neither of them speaks, though I hear the shifting of sheets and a few low sounds that are starting to seem much less innocent than they did when I was in the study.

“Did you enjoy menacing her outside?” Fox retorts. “Did you—” His words hitch into a gasp, and I hear a snarling chuckle from inside the room.

There’s absolutely no way they’re doing what I think they are. My curiosity wins out over my fear, and I edge closer to the door, just enough that I can see through the crack into the room.

It takes my brain a few seconds to decode the scene in front of me, but when I do, I can’t look away. With a few inches of space between the door and the frame, I track movement on the bed that finally registers as Deacon pinning Fox down to the pillows with his hand on his throat. I can’t see his fingers, but judging by the way Fox’s mouth is open in a gasp, I can only imagine he’s cutting off his air.

“Yeah,” Deacon chuckles. “I absolutely did. She tasted like you. All sweet and hopeless.” He sneers the words and leans down slowly, inch by inch, until he’s drinking in Fox’s gasps. “Pathetic.” There’s no real insult in his voice. Just a warm fondness and a victorious edge. “Absolutely⁠—”

The blur of movement is so fast I don’t realize what’s happening for a few seconds. But Deacon’s gasp clues me in, and seconds later, he’s the one on the bed, on his stomach, with Fox straddling his hips and pinning him there. One of his hands holds both of Deacon’s, and he pins the blond’s arms behind his back, keeping him in place as if he’s under arrest.

“You’re so mouthy with me tonight,” he croons, panting a little from the effort. Only now do I realize Fox is shirtless, his tan skin on glorious display. Old scars decorate his back and shoulders, though most are faded and only faintly shining in the light. “Are you jealous, lover?”

Deacon snarls something into the pillow that’s lost to me, but Fox must be able to understand, because he lets out a barking laugh. “Don’t be like that,” he chides, and as I watch, he grinds his barely covered hips against Deacon’s ass. “Or I won’t give you what you want.”

With his free hand, Fox suddenly grips Deacon’s hair, leans into him, and nips at his ear. There’s a sharp intake of breath from the man under him, and I can just barely see a jerky nod before Fox lets go of his hands and hair to Hilll down his body.

Before I can really consider what I’m watching, Deacon is up on his knees, and Fox is dragging his pants down over his hips, over his toned, muscular thighs and⁠—

Fuck.

It’s time to leave. I drag my gaze away from Fox as he kisses down Deacon’s spine, trying to look anywhere else. This isn’t my business. None of this is my business.

Yet somehow, my eyes are pulled upward, like by a magnet, and from my spot outside the room with my narrow view into it, I meet Deacon’s very blue eyes, half hidden under his lashes.

My heart clenches and my stomach plummets simultaneously. This is it, I warn myself, bracing for the inevitable. He’s going to say something, and both of them are going to come out here, wring my neck, and go back to their extracurricular activities.

I’m so dead.

Slowly Deacon grins a wide, Cheshire smile, his gaze holding mine. He arches, somehow even more suggestive than before, and as I watch, he brings one finger to his lips in a clear warning for me not to interrupt.

But he doesn’t tell Fox.

And he doesn’t look away when he gasps, hips jerking back. While I can’t quite hear the murmured words dropping from his lips, I have a very good idea of what they are.

His next moan is enough to send me into motion, and I’m sure I make enough noise with just my breathing and my slamming heart for Fox to notice too. Without waiting to see if I’m right, however, I flee from the door, from the bedroom, and from the sight of the adoptive Shaw brothers with something other than fear sending heat to my lower body.

I really have to get out of this place.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Getting woken up by a dog punching me in the chest was not on my radar for how the morning might start.

I gasp and arch upright as Pearl stands on my lap, her whole body wagging happily while I wheeze and try to remember how to breathe. For her part, the Rottweiler mix licks my face voraciously, obviously trying to assist me while I struggle to get oxygen into my abused lungs.

It takes a minute to convince myself last night wasn’t a dream, and my hands smooth over Pearl’s ears, though I’m careful of the stitched one, as I mentally replay my explorations in my head, trying to figure out if there’s anything I missed or somewhere I hadn’t gone.

Well, except for the basement. But the thought of being down there willingly has the hairs on my arms standing up, and I figure that is absolutely a worst-case scenario. In fact, the only worse plan I have than that is jumping out a window and hoping I don’t die from getting stabbed by the glass.

“Hey pretty girl,” I greet, finally focusing on the dog in my lap. She’s a bit big to be sitting on me, but I’m certainly not going to complain. “How are you feeling, huh? Did you get to eat sometime recently?” Obviously she doesn’t answer, but judging by the way she isn’t trying to snack on my rubbed-raw hands or gnaw my face off, I can only assume she’s been well fed. Noise from downstairs and the sound of voices make me jump a little, and that breaks the nice, almost peaceful moment I’m having. Fear comes back to me, along with a rush of embarrassment from the night before.