Cecelia immediately started undoing his belt, sliding it from his jeans and tossing it to the floor. There was no question that this was what she wanted. And frankly, if he were being honest with himself, it was what he wanted, too.
He certainly didn’t expect it to be dropped into his lap like this, but only a fool would ask questions instead of accepting the gift he’d been given. As she started to unbutton his pants, he reached for her hand and pulled it away.
“I’ve got this,” he said.
Cecelia just smiled and began to undo her own blouse, button by button, exposing more of the creamy, porcelain skin he’d always admired. She was one of the few women he’d ever met who truly had a flawless complexion. There were no freckles, no moles—not even a scar. The Morgans would never allow their precious daughter to be injured. Her skin was like that of a china doll—smooth...even...perfect.
He remembered running his hands over it years ago and it feeling like silk against the rough, calloused palms he’d earned from working on cars. As she slipped her blouse off her shoulders and exposed the ivory satin of her bra, he ached to touch it and the flesh beneath it.
Her breasts nearly overflowed the cups as she breathed hard with wanting him. He took a step back as she stood to unzip her pencil skirt. The fabric slid over her ample hips and pooled at her feet. The sight of her nearly nude stole his breath away. She was just as beautiful and perfect as he remembered. Only now, she was a fully grown woman with all the curves that a man at his age could finally appreciate. As a teenager, Cecelia had been his first, and he’d hardly known what he was doing. He wouldn’t have been able to handle a woman like Cecelia back then.
Cecelia’s steely-gray eyes were fixed on him as she reached behind herself and unlatched her bra. Her breasts spilled free, revealing tight, strawberry-pink tips that were just as he remembered them. Thirteen years was too long to wait, and he couldn’t resist reaching out to cup them in his hands. The hard peaks of her nipples pressed into his palms as he squeezed and massaged her sensitive flesh.
Cecelia sighed with contentment, leaned into his touch, tipped her head back and shook her blond waves over her shoulders. “Yes,” she whispered. “I need your touch, Deacon. I need it now more than ever.”
Deacon didn’t respond. Instead, he dipped his head and took one of her tight buds into his mouth. He teased at it with his tongue until Cecelia was gasping and writhing against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her body tight against his, and then slipped one hand beneath her silky ivory panties.
He was surprised to find her skin completely bare and smooth there, providing no barrier for his fingers to slip between her sensitive folds and stroke her center. Cecelia gasped and her hips bucked against his hand, but he didn’t stop. Instead he drew harder on her nipple, stroking her again and again until she came apart in his arms.
Cecelia cried out and clawed at his shoulders, more wild and passionate beneath him than she’d ever let herself be. She had gotten in touch with her sexuality, and he was pleased to be benefiting from it.
When her body stilled and her cries subsided, he lowered her gently onto the bed, laying her back against the brocade comforter. She watched beneath hooded eyes as he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them off, along with the rest of his clothing. She watched him with appreciation as he sought out a condom from the nightstand and returned to where her body was sprawled across his mattress. He set the condom beside her on the bed, using both hands to grasp her panties and slide the fabric over her hips and down her legs.
With her completely exposed in front of him, Deacon could only shake his head in wonder. How had he gotten to this place tonight? He had anticipated grilling a steak on the back porch, drinking a few beers and watching the news. Instead, he would gladly go without his dinner and feast on Cecelia instead.
He opened the condom and rolled it down his length and then crawled onto the bed, positioning himself between her still-quivering thighs.
This was the moment he’d waited for, fantasized about, since the day he and Cecelia had parted ways. The last time they’d made love had been the night before their high school graduation. He’d had no idea that the next day Cecelia would be breaking up with him. He’d had no idea that he was holding her for the last time, kissing her for the last time, until it was too late. Then, all he could do was long for what he lost and search for it in the arms of other women.
“Please,” Cecelia begged. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Deacon was more than happy to fulfill her wish. He slowly surged forward, pressing into her warmth until he was fully buried inside her. He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep control, as her tight muscles wrapped around him. She felt as good as he remembered. Maybe better.
Cecelia drew her knees up, wrapping her legs around his hips and holding him close. She reached up for him, cupping his face in her hands and drawing his mouth down to her own. He began to move, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. Her soft cries and groans of pleasure were muffled by his mouth against hers.
It didn’t take long for the tension to build up inside him. Cecelia was eager and hungry for him, and he was near his breaking point. He moved harder and faster as she clawed at his back. The sharp sting was a painful reminder that although he was enjoying this, he needed to remember who he was with. The Cecelia of his past, of his fantasies, was long gone. The woman beneath him was harder, shrewder and lacking the sweet innocence he’d always associated with her.
No matter what he tried to tell himself, Deacon knew that she was just using him. Whatever had happened between her and Chip tonight had driven her into his arms. She probably wanted to forget about everything that was going wrong in her life and was using Deacon as a reminder of when things were better. It had worked. Whatever tensions and worries she’d arrived with on his doorstep were gone.
Admittedly, his mood had improved, too. As Deacon focused on the soft warmth of her body, the stress of the day melted away and a new kind of tension took its place. Cecelia’s cries grew louder beneath him, signaling that she was close to another release. He wasn’t far behind her. Reaching between them, he stroked her center, pushing her over the edge once again.
“Deacon!” she cried out, writhing under him.
The tightening of her muscles around him drew him closer to his release. He thrust into her three more times, hard and fast, and it was done. His jaw dropped open with a silent scream as he poured himself into her willing body.
When it was over, Deacon pulled away from her and flopped back onto the bed. Staring up at his ceiling, he had a hard time believing everything that had just happened. He’d come back to Royal in the hopes that Cecelia might regret dumping him all those years ago.
This was way better.
* * *
Cecelia awoke with a start. She sat up in bed, her heart racing in her chest, as she looked around the unfamiliar room. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was, but the morning light streaming across the furniture and the shape of the man in bed beside her pieced it together.
Suddenly everything came back to her at once. She’d slept with Deacon. No, she’d thrown herself at Deacon and he’d had the courtesy not to turn her down and make her look like a fool. What was she thinking, running to him like that? Of all the people in Royal?
Then again, who else did she have to turn to? She couldn’t blame last night on alcohol, but apparently the emotional trauma of her breakup with Chip was enough to dull her inhibitions. With the arrival of dawn, her good sense returned to her, and she realized that last night, however amazing, had been a terrible mistake.
She pulled back the blankets and slipped silently from the bed. She crept through the room, collecting her clothing, and carried it with her to the hallway, where she pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and got dressed.
She looked back at the door and pictured the man asleep beyond it only once before she disappeared down the hallway and out the front door. She practically held her breath until she had started her car and made it down the driveway without