Authors: Sable Hunter
“Yes, I don’t think either of us could ever be part of a normal suburban couple. Going to work, coming home, me keeping house, you mowing the lawn.” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but took another forkful of food and chewed it thoughtfully. “I won’t deny I used to dream of a life like that. I wanted a family and a dog.” This time her laugh was a little sad.
“I don’t think you’d have much luck mixing the picket fence lifestyle with the Omega Team. If you were mine, I wouldn’t put up with this nonsense until the water got hot. I’d keep you barefoot and pregnant or tied to my bed ready for my pleasure–your choice.”
Rattle! Clank! Taz dropped her fork. The words ‘I’ll take it’ on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t know what water getting hot had anything to do with it, but the rest of his message was loud and clear. The man wasn’t nearly as unaffected by her as he pretended to be. For the rest of their time at the dinner table, she took up the mantle of a new mission.
To seduce Deacon Jones.
Deacon realized he’d startled her. Good. Give her a little dose of how he felt.
And how did he feel? Like he was coming out of his skin. On one hand, he found a peace with her he hadn’t felt in years. But at the same time, he wanted her so much his whole body felt like it was stretched on the rack.
“Would you care for more?” She asked, offering him the serving dish, giving him a shy smile, then licking her lower lip for good measure.
“Uh, yea.” He took the dish from her and served himself. “Here, I saved you some. You’re too skinny.” She wasn’t–all of her was damn near perfect.
Taz accepted the food, refilled her plate. But she refused to let his comment pass. “What part of me needs to be more?” Holding his gaze, she ran her palms over her breasts and down to her waist.
Watching her, hypnotized, Deacon swallowed and a bit of onion went down the wrong tube. As he started to cough, Taz rose and moved behind him, slapping his back.
“Here, drink this.” She handed him his glass of water.
He took a sip and swallowed, trying to get his breath. After a few seconds, he managed to recover. She was standing so close he could feel the warmth of her body. His heart sped up fiercely, his blood pounding in his veins. And when she ran her soft fingers down his cheek, he gave up. Taking her by the arm, he pulled her into his lap and covered her mouth with his. After years of loneliness, he felt alive.
Everywhere he touched her, Taz felt as if she was on fire. He was eating at her mouth with desperation, their tongues colliding. She held him tight, kissing him back with all of the longing in her heart.
With eyes closed, Deacon savored her taste. He ran his hand down her back, pulling her as close as possible, fusing them together. Arousal burned through him like a grassfire. Over and over he took her lips, licking and nibbling, sucking on her tongue just to hear her purr. When he pulled back for air, it was to find Taz staring at him with an expression of pure rapture on her face. Her eyes darted from his mouth to his eyes, then back to his mouth. “Deacon, please…” She raised her face, joining their mouths, taking what she wanted. He didn’t have the strength to push her away.
Taz ran her hands across his chest, then up his neck to cup his jaw. She couldn’t get enough of him. She inhaled his kiss, making up for all the lost time when she’d had no one–nothing. And when he pushed her gently from him, she moaned the loss. “Deacon.”
“Taz, no,” he whispered. She was staring at him as if he was the only thing she could see. And God Almighty, how he wanted to believe her.
“No? Why?” Her low husky voice vibrated through Deacon’s body.
“It’s just not a good idea.” He gently eased her off his lap. “I’ll clean up the kitchen while you go get ready for bed. I’m sure you could use a shower.”
Taz didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So much for her seduction skills.
* * *
After she was gone, Deacon made a fist and hit one of the cabinet doors so hard it came off its hinges. How was he supposed to survive this? She was in
house, sleeping wrapped in
sheets, even now she was naked in
shower. Holding his abused hand, he rested his head against the coolness of the stainless steel refrigerator. Just the thought of the water running over every inch of her beautiful body made him weak. “
,” he groaned.
In the second bedroom, Taz was miserable. He wanted her. His body couldn’t lie. She’d felt how hard he was beneath her hips. She’d felt him shiver beneath her touch. She’d tasted his passion. So why was he pushing her away?
She’d showered and was now staring out the window tracing her name in the condensation on the glass. Something else was going on…but what? As a lover of mystery, she began trying to objectively analyze the situation. What would make a man pull her close with one hand and push her away with the other? Was it her? Was he attracted to her as a person or did he resent who she was? Was it something about his past? His wife? The war? “Deacon!” she breathed in frustration, watching her breath make a little cloud on the pane in front of her.
Turning from the window, she went to sit on the bed. Reaching for the remote she flipped on the TV and channel surfed until she came to one of the movie stations. When she’d first arrived in America, she’d watched the game show network and CNN to help herself learn to speak properly. But what she’d absolutely fell in love with was old movies. Pulling a pillow down to the foot of the bed, she laid on her stomach with her chin propped up on the soft mass. Her attention wasn’t fully on the film playing before her eyes, but more on what happened with Deacon earlier. Until…she abruptly sat up watching a woman sneaking into a man’s bedroom window and tiptoeing up to his bed. He was facing the other direction and wasn’t aware of her until she picked up the covers and eased between them. Taz sat up in the bed, fully engrossed in the unfolding story. Holding her breath, she placed a hand over her heart as the actress touched her lover’s shoulder and he turned, surprised. What would he do? To her relief, the man opened his arms and welcomed the woman, pulling her down for a kiss. This was her answer. Did she have the courage? Standing, she looked toward the door and decided it was time to take matters into her own hands.
In his bed, Deacon rubbed his knee, making broad sweeps down to the stump just a couple of inches below. Even before he looked outside, the pain in his phantom limb told him a storm was moving in. He turned toward the window and watched the play of lightning across the night sky. The only thing aching more than his leg was his swollen cock. How had he walked away from her again? There was a special kind of hell reserved for idiots like him. Tomorrow he’d go through the motions of an interview, then send his own personal temptress down the road.
Outside his room…Taz hesitated, garnering courage. The way her fortunes usually ran, Deacon would shoot her before she was able to entice him to welcome her to his bed. Murmuring a quick prayer to St. Jude, the patron of lost causes, she opened the door as silently as she could. The wind had picked up and rain was blowing against the house, perhaps the noise would mask her entry.
She held her breath, waiting on either an angry yell or a gun blast. When there was neither, she pushed the door wide enough to slip through. The first thing she noticed was a shaft of light shining across the room from the attached bath. She followed the beam’s path and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning. Like the scene in the movie that inspired this possibly perilous venture, Deacon was lying on his side facing away from her. But what she could see of him almost stopped her heart. He was unclothed and the muscles of his bare back and shoulder beckoned her touch. The sheet lay low across his hips, his body looked chiseled, ripped and absolutely kissable. Wanting to feel skin on skin, she pulled the T-shirt she’d slipped on up and over her head. Knowing what he might do to her if she took him completely by surprise, Taz thought it best to call his name.
A smile played on her lips. One American movie she’d enjoyed was Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the story of two spies who enjoyed a tumultuous relationship. Right now, she felt like Angelina Jolie creeping up on Brad Pitt. “Deacon?”
Deacon’s eyes were closed. His hand lazily stroking his dick–remembering. Damn, he could almost hear her voice.
“Deacon?” Taz tentatively put one knee on the bed as she touched his shoulder. As in the film, he jerked to his back, his eyes wide with surprise. But unlike the star of the movie, Deacon didn’t smile. Emotions played over his face faster than Taz could define them.
Raw unadulterated need throbbed through him. One moment he’d been alone and the next what he’d been craving was leaning over him, her full breasts swaying in front of his face like luscious ripe fruit. “Taz?” he whispered, still not sure if the vision before him was real or a figment of his wishful imagination. His eyes roved over her, the curtain of silky hair hanging on either side of her face, delicate shoulders, and the rest of her centerfold body completely nude and there for the taking.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
As before, a hint of her original accent could be heard–melodious and warm. Waves of conflicting emotion crashed over him. He needed to open his arms in welcome, yet at the same time he wanted to push her away before she discovered he wasn’t the man she thought she knew. Mere seconds passed as his heart and mind struggled–until she took the decision out of his hands, coming to him, stretching her beautiful body next to his, her hands finding his chest, her mouth seeking his and Deacon lost the ability to think–he could only feel.
Taz sighed with total relief as he pulled her down to the bed, his arms wrapping around her, his body bending to curl against her. His eyes were wild, his large frame dwarfing hers as his trembling body held her tight. Her hands came up to touch his face, to slide over his jaw, the rough texture of his scruff tickling her palm. “I want you, Deacon.”
Distress warred with desire. Here she was–in his arms, in his bed–just like he’d dreamed. Should he push her away again or could he take her, make love to her without her knowing? Should he tell her now and risk her walking away or wait until after, then watch her face morph from satiation to disgust? This was not a choice he wanted to make. “You’re tearing me apart,” he confessed raggedly.
Taz lifted up, joining her lips to his for a gentle kiss. “Tell me what to do,” she whispered, wanting only to assuage the look of torment in his eyes. “Do I not please you?”
Deacon groaned, a savage roar of anguish. “You please me too well.” He closed his eyes and faced his demons. Now was the time to end this one way or the other. Rip away the bandage and expose not only the flaw in his body but the wound in his soul. “I have hidden something from you,” he began with stilted words.
Taz strained to see his face clearly in the insufficient light. “Do you love another?” the question tore from her lips as the possibility seared through her brain.
He closed his eyes as if in pain. “No.” He threw back the cover. “I was injured in Afghanistan. I came back half a man.”
His act didn’t make any sense for a moment. How can someone be half a man? She didn’t understand his allusion until her eyes moved over his perfectly sculpted chest, defined abs, his erect manhood, strong thighs and…only one leg below the knees. “Oh, Deacon,” she whispered, pain for him piercing her very soul.
During his time as a SEAL, his intelligence quotient had been measured. He wasn’t Einstein smart, but he wasn’t dumb as dirt either. He had no trouble reading Natasha, it didn’t take a genius to see and hear the stunned pity on her face or in her voice. Deacon felt like he was trapped beneath a slow lava flow as hot molten shame rolled over him. “Yea, poor Deacon.” He rolled over, giving her his back. “Shut the door on your way out.” This was worse than he’d let himself imagine, far worse. Having this strong woman see him as less tore gaping holes in his spirit. Tensed, he waited for the sound of the door.
Sometimes time stands still. A revelation so unexpected jerks the foundation from beneath your feet. Taz reeled from the knowledge that Deacon was injured, part of his body violently ripped away. How he must have suffered! As she processed this humbling information, the realization that he expected her to reject him hit Taz so hard she lost her ability to breathe. “No, no,” she eliminated the distance between them, pressing her body to his strong back, running her hand over his chest, sealing her lips to a spot between his shoulder blades. “I will not leave you.”
Deacon stilled, afraid to breathe, afraid to think–afraid to hope. He couldn’t misinterpret her actions. “I don’t need a pity fuck, Levin. I’m not whole, I have a disgusting stump where my leg used to be. Don’t pretend this doesn’t turn your stomach. My wife couldn’t even bring herself to look at it, much less touch me or allow me to touch her.”
Tender protective feelings filled Natasha’s chest. Her desire for him only grew. She’d placed him on a pedestal, a war-like god unmoved and unaffected by what went on around him. But that wasn’t true–everything she’d learned recently confirmed he was warm, he was real and he could be hurt. But never by her. She understood much better than he realized. “I find nothing undesirable about you. Our imperfections only prove we are real, we are alive. Nothing and no one is perfect.”
“You are.” He remained facing away from her, but he didn’t pull away.
“Far from it.” She kissed him where his shoulder met his neck. “I have scars too.”