“We still have an audience,” she whispered against my mouth, then pushed harder.

I glanced to the side to see Keith standing there, waiting patiently. “Right. Time to put distance between us then.” I cleared my throat, then glanced back at Charlie. “Uh, well this whole thing was supposed to be for you today. But I walked in just in time to see you hit your brother. So tell me what you want to do.”

Her face pinched in pain and her eyes fell to her lap. “I want to go home.”

“You want to walk instead of talk it out with him?”

“He said that if the judge would have known about you, he might not have given me custody. He said I was making our mom’s mistakes.”

Her biggest fucking fear, and he threw it in her face on a day that was supposed to be one of the happiest for her.

“I’m one of those mistakes,” I assumed.

Those blue eyes flickered up to me before falling away again.

I nodded once and gritted my teeth. “Considering I told him I wouldn’t hit him, I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

“Now.”

I stood and pulled her up with me, and pressed my mouth firmly to hers. “Congratulations, Charlie Girl.”

Chapter Sixteen

Charlie

June 26, 2016

MY EYES SLOWLY blinked open, and for a moment I stilled as I tried to remember where I was before I relaxed deeper against the body holding mine. Deacon’s deep, rhythmic breathing made my eyelids feel heavy, and I wanted nothing more than to close them again. But I also didn’t want to miss this.

Because this? There were no words for it.

Deacon had come over after he’d finished working out, and we’d curled up on my couch. As the night had gotten later and later, he’d stretched out his large frame across the entire thing, and repositioned me so I was lying on top of him as if I weighed nothing.

After fighting the blush that had filled my cheeks, I’d grabbed my book off the table and tucked my head under his chin when he curled his large arms around me.

Just as I had then, I felt protected and cherished and like nothing could touch me. Like nothing could find me under the barrier of his arms. I wanted to hide in the safety of his arms forever.

My eyes zeroed in on the book still in my hand, facedown on Deacon’s chest, but I didn’t make an attempt to move it again.

This was more perfect than any love story I could read.

This meant more than any song I could write.

Deacon’s fingers twitched against the small of my back, then made slow, lazy circles against the little piece of skin showing there, from where my shirt had ridden up.

A shuddering breath slipped past my lips as they eased into a smile.

His chest rumbled beneath my ear when he murmured in a low tone, “Charlie Girl.”

I twisted my neck to look up at him, and planted my chin on his chest.

Those brown eyes were light and full of warmth, and looking at me as though he was trying to commit this moment to memory. I understood that look far too well.

The tips of his fingers moved up slightly higher and higher with each set of lazy circles, dragging my shirt with them, and I shivered against the onslaught of chills that raced across my body at the feel.

His hands paused, and those eyes darkened. “You’re gonna have to stop doing that when you’re lying on me.”

Heat filled my face, and I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth. Deacon’s fingers curled into my back possessively for the shortest second.

“Christ, Charlie. You’re gonna have to stop doing that, too.”

Except I couldn’t.

Not when he was still holding me like he didn’t want to let me go. Not when my mouth was just inches from his. Not when our bodies were flush and I could feel what this was doing to him.

Warmth swam low in my stomach as I fought with promises I’d made myself, and a need Deacon created inside me.

A need for him, a need to be touched. A greater need to be wanted and loved, completely and without reservations.

The feather-light touches resumed, instantly my skin was covered with goose bumps, and a shiver crawled down my spine, slow and warm.

The deep rumbling in Deacon’s chest and possessive curling of his fingers against my skin were the only warning I had before his hands were suddenly under my arms, hauling me up.

My book slid from my grip an instant before Deacon set me back down so I was sitting on his stomach. And then his hands were on my back, pressing and pleading as he bent me down.

Deacon’s mouth met mine with a force that both shocked me and fascinated me. Just as quickly there was the slightest bit of hesitation as he sought entrance along the seam of my lips, and I knew then that Deacon would always hesitate with me. Would always wait for me to give. Because as soon as I opened to him, he took and took, and, God, it made my head spin in the most exhilarating way.

My fingers traced the curve of his jaw, then wove into his thick hair, looking for something, anything, to hold on to as he sat up.

His hands moved from my back to my waist as I slid to his lap, and tightened when I moved against him. “Charlie,” his deep voice rumbled in warning, and he took my bottom lip between his teeth before devouring my mouth again.

But that fight within me was raging, stronger than ever. His thumbs were brushing the undersides of my breasts, and I wanted them to move higher. I wanted that shock of pleasure when I rocked against him again. I wanted everything, but I wanted more than I knew he could give me then.

Unable to stop myself, I moved my hips against his, and whimpered into his mouth at the feel of him beneath his mesh workout shorts.

“Fuck, Charlie,” he growled, and forced me back.

One second I was on his lap, the next my back was pressed to the couch and Deacon was lowering himself onto me.

He pressed a searing kiss to my mouth before he was moving, leaving a trail of hot kisses down my neck and chest as he slowly lifted my shirt.

My grip in his hair tightened as that fight raged and raged and raged.

“Deacon,” I breathed as his mouth touched the bare skin on my stomach, then moved down another inch.

I trembled beneath his touch and his lips as he moved lower still, and placed an open-mouthed kiss just above my shorts. “Oh, God. Deacon. Deacon, wait,” I said quickly when he gripped the top of my shorts in his hand.

Immediately he released the fabric and his body stilled.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeated over and over. Embarrassment coursed through me, and I hurried to cover my face with one of my hands.