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His fingertips grazed her ribs. She closed her eyes. Do not moan, Harper Lee. With her eyes closed, all she could focus on were the little circles he was making. Was he doing that on purpose? “There are other chairs, you know.”

  “I like this one,” he said low in her ear.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and the room seemed too loud and invasive. All she wanted to do was curl back into him.

  When he snaked his other arm through and broke off a piece of her chicken, she instinctively jammed her elbow into his gut. His rock-hard, crazy-muscled gut. He popped the piece into his mouth. Spell broken, the food thief was back.

  “Oh, wow. That’s good.” When he reached around her for another piece, she slapped his hand.

  “I ordered this for myself, big guy. I’m not feeding you.” There. She even sounded normal. So, her voice might be an octave or two lower. No one could tell with all the noise.

  “C’mon. I’ll order another plate.” The teasing rumble of his voice skittered down her neck and zeroed in on her nipples. Thank you, Wonder Bra and the little bit of extra padding. Because her little tank definitely wouldn’t hide her reaction.

  “We share this one, and we can share mine.” He leaned forward, crowding her again, and snagged the menu off the table. “Maybe.” He sat back, absently brushing her hair over her shoulder and played with the ends. His cargo clad thighs hugged her.

  All very normal. It was as if he’d sat with her like this a million times. She tried to keep herself stiff and away from him, but the tiny pulls on her hair melted her spine like butter on warm bread. She cut up her chicken and potatoes, instinctively making sure to make larger pieces for him.

  God, what was she doing?

  She was not feeding this man again. This was her night off. She was feeding herself, and that was all there was to it. This man was not going to make her any more insane. Nope. No.

  She wouldn’t allow it. She set her plate down and was just about to move to the chair opposite when a couple wandered in and snagged it. And of course, it was the last chair. The guy sat first and dumped his girlfriend into his lap with a laugh. And then they proceeded to make out like the end of the world was nigh.

  Craptastic.

  Deacon slid his arm under hers and filched another piece of chicken. The low groan in her ear was just too much. Before she could try and move again, Max came back with his beer. Deacon looked up at their waiter.

  “How about the sampler platter for the lot of us and I’ll have the biggest burger you’ve got.”

  “Great choice.” Max winked at Gina and swiped up the empties that littered the table.

  “So what did you guys do with your day off?”

  Gina turned to him. “We went shopping downtown. I have to confess I saw your tweet earlier and almost came to the barbecue place.”

  Deacon shifted behind her, settling his arms on her thighs, his large hands cupping her knees. “Oh, you should have. A bunch of people were there.”

  “How many were dolled up like they were going to a show?” Marie teased.

  “Well, there was this crazy mother-daughter team there.”

  Harper stiffened. He’d spent the afternoon with a bunch of groupies, and now he thought he could paw at her. No, sir.

  “But for the most part, it was people that just wanted to hang out. Which is the way I like it.”

  “I bet.”

  “Why Chef Pruitt, you sound a little jealous.” He dragged his palms up and down her thighs. The warm, light abrasion made her skin sizzle to life. A-freaking-gain. What was it with this man and his easy touches? Was he just a touchy-feely sort? He did seem to be easy with his bandmates.

  “Not at all.” She cleared the 1-900 out of her voice. “Just typical, that’s all.”

  His fingertips dug into her thighs. “I told you, Harper. I’m anything but typical. It’s a shame you keep trying to box me into these little ideas you have about musicians. Just makes me want to prove you wrong all the more.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Is that what this is? You trying to prove something?”

  “Um. I think we’re going to go get a drink,” Marie said and stood.

  “We are? But he said he was coming right back with dri—”

  Marie grabbed Gina’s hand and hauled her off the couch with a meaningful look that was about as delicate as a shovel to the forehead. “Let’s go find the hot waiter.”

  “Oh.” Gina looked from Deacon to Harper and her eyebrow winged up into her bangs. “You know what? That’s a great idea.”

  “No, you guys—” Harper tried to stand, but Deacon held her down with just the lightest of pressure.

  “You just have fun with Deacon. We’ll be back.” Marie chirped with a huge grin. “I’m really thirsty. Too thirsty to wait for him.” They both stood and before they got to the stairs, two people filled their spots on the couch.

  “My friends are sitting there.”

  The two girls shrugged. “We’ll move when they get back.”

  Harper sagged back against Deacon and at the warm feel of his chest she pokered back up. It was way too easy to lean back into him. He was invading her space left and right and she didn’t like it, dammit.

  She set her plate on the table in front of her and wriggled out of his hold. Deacon braceleted her wrist with his long fingers. “Harper, wait.”

  “No, I need to move. My butt’s asleep.”

  He sat forward and slid an arm around her waist, drawing her around until she faced him. “What exactly are you afraid of?”

  She had the strongest urge to push his hair back from his face and see if it was soft as it looked. It would be so easy to reach out and find out if his scruff was prickly, so easy to lose herself in him.

  Even seated he was merely a few inches shorter than she was standing. And his shoulders completely eclipsed the small chair. Hell, they practically eclipsed the entire railing.

  “Harper?”

  She closed her eyes, blocking out everything about him. If she could just step back and get out of the Deacon blast zone then she’d be okay again. She tried to step back. She really did. She got far enough away that his heat didn’t permeate the air between them.

  But then his hand slid along her back. Correction, his hand spanned the entire width of her lower back, and his pinkie curled under the baby doll tank she was wearing. She couldn’t stop the groan this time. And it was all he needed to drag her down.

  She pressed her knee into the space she’d been sitting in and bumped the impressive bulge behind his zipper. Fingers lost their willpower—okay, so they didn’t really have a mind of their own, but they may as well have, because they found their way into his hair and curved along the surface of his neck until she was close enough that her chest brushed his.

  He enveloped her. Those impressive forearms gathered her into the wall of muscle that was Deacon, and she finally owned up to the fact that she didn’t want to step back. She wanted to melt into him.

  So she did.

  She straddled one thigh, and he dragged her around until she was seated on his lap. The impressive bulge became so much more. The seam of her jeans bumped along his rigid shaft as his mouth hovered inches from hers.

  Long lashes were at half mast, leaving a mere sliver of his beautiful, gold-green eyes for her to drown in. It wasn’t like she was powerless against him. It was so much more than that. He was warmth and promise and generosity distilled into an impossible man.

  At least she would have called him impossible a week ago.

  “I…”

  She lost her breath when he lifted his mouth, and her name was a prayer against her lips. Then he swallowed the space between them. His hand crawled up her shirt and anchored her to him. And then there was nothing but Deacon.

  She expected slow and gentle, but there was nothing gentle about the first clash of mouths and teeth. His arms were like bands around her, and he slanted his mouth along hers until there was nothing but the cool, hoppy flavor of beer.

&nb
sp; He drew her into the kiss with a teasing curl of tongue and lips. He sucked and stroked, groaned into her mouth as he infused her taste buds with a taste richer than wine, more tantalizing than savory, sweeter and headier than chocolate. This was Deacon in his purest form.

  A taste like no other.

  He cupped her face. His fingertips speared into her hair as his entire body opened for her. The slow roll of his hips activated the friction that had started just before the kiss. And her body shuddered to life.

  As if she were shaking off rubber bands that had been holding her too tight, her chest expanded to breathe him in. She dug her fingers into his shoulders. The ropey muscle flexed beneath her touch and the words he murmured didn’t make sense. But the tiny breaths he allowed her were punctuated with her name. And in the middle of a crowd she finally felt centered for the first time in her life.

  She didn’t want to stop the kiss. Didn’t want to stop the unerring roll of his hips. And she most certainly didn’t want to let reality drop between them like a wall. But there were strangers to her left and people crowding her from the right.

  And if she let herself sink just a little bit more she wouldn’t give two shits. She’d unbuckle his pants and ride him right here and now and damn the consequences.

  One of his hands ghosted down her back until he palmed her ass and ground her into him.

  “Deacon.”

  “No. Don’t stop. Just a minute longer.”

  “A minute longer and we’ll be arrested.”

  “Who cares?” He pulled her tighter to him and the length of his cock made her whimper into his mouth. God, he’d fill her up. So freaking good. It would be so goddamn amazing.

  “I knew if I kissed you it would be amazing, but this?” He punctuated the question with a breath-stealing kiss. He gripped her ass with each hand. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

  She pushed his hair back and simply stared. Unframed, his angular cheekbones were even more pronounced and his lips were wet from hers. But his eyes wrecked her. The gold was obliterated by his pupils. Just the rims of dark green around the black pools she was drowning in. She nipped his lower lip then pressed her forehead to his.

  “We’re going to burn out,” she said against his mouth and couldn’t stop herself from tasting him again. And then one more time as she framed his face. “Nothing good will come of this.”

  “Harper, nothing but good is going to come from this.” He dug his fingers into her ass pockets and pressed her tighter to him.

  “Sex. I know, I get it. The sex is going to be truly…” she dragged her thumb over his wet lower lip until he nipped the tip, “oh, it will be exceptional. Possibly the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Possibly?”

  She laughed into his mouth and slid her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. The kiss spun out until her brain fuzzed again. She tore her mouth from his. “Probably.” She huffed. Her starved lungs demanded a break. A breath, a freaking moment to step back.

  Sure. It was her lungs that demanded it.

  She put her foot down on the floor and swung her leg off of him. This time he actually let her stand. With a shaky breath, she tucked a heavy lock of his silky hair around his ear.

  “If you deny something is happening between us, I’m going to kiss you stupid again, Harper Pruitt.”

  How on earth could she deny it? If nothing else, she was a realist. And walking away from Deacon right now wasn’t an option.

  Anything that was this big and tremor-inducing couldn’t do anything but flame out like a meteor. She just hoped the both of them wouldn’t be too charred by the end of the ride.

  She lowered her lips to his forehead. “I’m in, Deacon. Possibly more in than you can handle. I don’t do anything at half measure.”

  Deacon stood. “Good, then that’s settled. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Before she could open her mouth, Max came up the stairs with a to-go bag. “I thought you might like this.”

  The grin that spread across Deacon’s face could have lit the entire bar. “You read my mind.”

  “I think the entire section read your mind, dude,” Max said with raised brows as Deacon traded the bag for a wad of bills.

  Harper was pretty sure she was the color of the Budweiser sign. When Deacon slid his hand around hers, she decided she couldn’t really care all that much. They went down the stairs and passed Marie and Gina at the bar.

  Max followed them down the stairs and made a beeline for Gina. Marie waved her away and made the sign for phone. Harper dug out her cell and saw the bright bubble of text when she clicked it to life.

  We’ll catch a ride with Gary and Jen. You go ride that stallion and give me every blessed detail.

  She shook her head.

  Deacon looked back at her. “What?”

  “Never mind. Looks like we’re out of here.”

  “You’ve got a car?”

  “Yeah, I do actually.”

  They stepped out of Honky Tonk Central and into the humid August night. The streets were frenetic with neon and foot traffic. Clubs lured. Some with twangs, some with sad acoustic tones, and still others with an engrossing mix of rock and rockabilly.

  But nothing as alluring as the man beside her. His warm, calloused hand had an unrelenting grip. Like he was afraid she’d pull back. Not a bad fear to have because with a breath of life on the outside of the bar her jitters returned.

  He hauled her across the street, his long-legged stride leaving her no choice but to jog to catch up. She twisted the handle of the bag of their food around her wrist. “Deacon! I’m wearing flip-flops here.”

  “No wonder you seem so short tonight.” Instead of slowing down, he took the bag from her and handed it to the man that was sitting against the building. “Dinner’s on me tonight, sir.”

  “Uh, thanks?” The man said and peered into the bag. He looked up at Deacon. “Seriously?”

  “Burger.”

  “Sold,” the guy said and smiled.

  Harper was barely able to wave to the guy before Deacon led her off the main street and into a small park. Twinkle lights broke up the shadows and highlighted well-groomed trees and cared for benches. A few couples walked around, but for the most part they were alone.

  “I actually hung out here earlier.”

  “Sleeping off your epic barbecue lunch?”

  “You follow me on Twitter too?” Deacon asked as he pulled her down onto a little square of lawn.

  “Maybe.”

  He set his bag against the tree and pulled her into his arms. She braced for the torrent of attraction that had taken over at the restaurant. Instead, he slipped his fingers into her hair and lightly massaged the base of her skull. He settled her astride his thighs and slowly urged her closer.

  With each soothing stroke, her body revved and loosened at the same time. The contradiction did nothing to alleviate the need that simmered. She skimmed the backs of her knuckles along his scruffy cheek, drawing her fingertips along his jaw to his lips.

  Restless, she rolled her hips in time with his touch. “What are we doing?”

  “Getting to know each other.” His mouth was barely an inch away.

  She traced his lower lip. When he nipped at the pad of her finger, she skipped down to the dent in his chin and lower to his Adam’s apple. She leaned in and brushed her lips over the whorls of hair that were a few days past scruffy. It tickled as she explored down to his clavicle.

  His other hand slid down to her hips, gripping her tighter. Undeterred, she dipped the tip of her tongue into the little half circle notch and tasted his salty skin.

  “You’re killing me.”

  She smiled into his skin. “You’re the one that slowed us down. Now I want to take my time.” His rumbling groan buzzed under her tongue as she followed the line of bone. Just as she was about to make a return trip up, he gripped the hair at her nape and angled her up.

  Street sounds faded until there was nothing but breath and
there... Oh, God yes. Deacon’s soft lips. Gentle kisses dissolved into ardent strokes of tongue. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, buried her fingers in his thick, silky hair.

  He dragged her head back and coasted down her neck, shifting her until his cock was tucked tight against the seam of her jeans. Twinkle lights blurred into the night sky as he pulled her tighter against him.

  Restless, she rocked against him. She reached out blindly, her palm scraping over the bark of the tree behind them. The flash of pain pulled her back. Zero to one hundred wasn’t smart. This had been simmering between them for days, but she had to think.

  His teeth coasted up and over her chin and then his mouth was on hers again.

  Sweet Pete, he knew how to kiss.

  Most of the men she’d been with used kissing as a tool to get them into the end zone. That had been her feelings on the subject as well, but not with him.

  Here and now, it was an art form.

  He nipped her top lip and went in for another mind bender.

  She’d never survive.

  She pulled back. Instead of stopping, he went for her neck again. His fingers dug into her hips and ass. He had really long fingers.

  God, no. Do not go there, Harper Lee.

  She panted out a strangled version of his name.

  He didn’t stop. No, he went for the sensitive—well, now she knew it was sensitive—skin between shoulder and neck. Were her eyeballs rolling back into her head?

  So freaking good. Just another minute.

  No.

  “Deacon.” She managed to sound a little more firm. At least she must have because he pulled back.

  That was probably a mistake. His pupils were wide with lust and his features had sharpened. But then he slowly softened and cursed. He cupped her face. “Too fast.”

  She nodded. “A little.”

  “Right.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. His gaze dropped to her chest, then back up to her neck and finally, her eyes. “Right,” he repeated.

  She slid off of him, her butt landing on the grass before she collapsed against the tree beside him. “You’re really good at that, mister.”

  He smiled. “I’ve been thinking about doing that for over a week.”