He smirked and stepped aside, tugging her skirt back down. “We’re going to walk out of here, and you’re going to tell my sisters you’re not feeling well. Then I’m taking you home, because, baby, the night has only just begun.”

He scooped up her torn underwear, put them in his pocket, and placing his hand on the small of her back, led her from the office. She did as he said, didn’t even think about fighting it.

Her friends were worried, disappointed that she had to go, but she forced down her guilt and convinced them to stay. Martin was going to give them a ride home when they were ready, so they could carry on having a good time.

Then Deacon took her hand, and she held his in return. No, she clung to him, like a lifeline, happy to let him lead the way. Let him lead her blindly down a path she knew was dangerous and promised nothing but pain when they reached their destination, but she would walk it all the same.

The crowd was thick and pushed in from all sides, threatening to tear them apart. She leaned in close to him. “Don’t let me go.” Her words came out kind of desperate, and if he’d been listening for it, gave away far more than she ever wanted him to know.

His fingers flexed around hers, and he turned to her, expression so intense, exhilaration spiked through her belly. “I don’t plan to.”

Chapter Twelve

Deacon woke with a start, hand automatically going to the other side of the bed, seeking Alex. The sheets were cold…the bed empty.

His stomach dropped, disappointment slamming into him from all sides.

She’d fucking run, again.

He’d thought things had changed between them last night. When they got back to his apartment, it’d been a repeat of the club—he’d taken her hard on the kitchen counter. The sound of her cries as she’d broken apart beneath him still echoed in his head, made him hard even now. He’d been mindless, so desperate for her that his hands had been shaking. This last week had driven him near insane with wanting her so badly.

Alex hadn’t protested, not once. No, she’d egged him on, just as wild for him. There’d been a softness in her eyes when he’d carried her to bed that hadn’t been there before. She hadn’t tensed when he’d wrapped her in his arms, she’d snuggled closer. He’d thought his little viper was finally dropping her guard, finally letting him in.

He rubbed his hands over his face. She’d run the first chance she got. And that fucking stung. But it was his own damn fault. Idiot.

He’d meant to bring her back to his apartment at the end of the night, spend his time worshipping her body, making slow, sweet love to her like she deserved. Instead he’d let jealousy and mistrust skew his judgment, his actions. He’d found the owner of the club, a guy he knew through a business colleague, borrowed his keys, then dragged Alex off the dance floor and fucked her against the door. Fucked her the way he’d been desperate to for years now. And she’d taken it, all of it, the full force of his need—and met it with her own.

He’d pushed too hard, too fast. Fuck, he’d ruined everything.

Shoving back the sheets, he yanked on a pair of jeans and strode to the living room. When would she stop running from him? The way she’d wrapped around him last night, he’d thought…

He stopped in his tracks, sucked in a breath. There, sitting on the small balcony off his living room was Alex. She hasn’t run. She hasn’t left me.

Wearing his black button-down, sleeves rolled up, legs bare and propped on the railing, she looked relaxed and tempting as hell. Lifting a mug to her lips, she took a sip.

He strode across the floor, trying to control his racing pulse, trying to appear calm and collected when he was anything but. He stepped through the door and joined her outside. “Any of that left for me?”

She tilted her head back and smiled at him, causing all the oxygen to leave his lungs in a rush. “Nope, sorry.”

She handed him her mug, and he accepted it, taking a sip before placing it on the small table beside them. “You’re up early. Trouble sleeping?”

“Drinking does that to me.” There was that smile again, and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. She kissed him back, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d been giving her morning kisses their whole lives. He wanted that more than anything. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought I’d check out the view.”

“What do you think?”

“Not too shabby.”

He took the seat beside her. “Come here, Alex.” She didn’t hesitate, just hopped up and climbed in his lap, curling against him. He threaded his fingers through her hair. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Tilting her head back, he kissed her again, slow and easy. She slid her arms around his neck, giving herself over to him, no resistance, and for once, no smart comments. Finally, he pulled back, giving her one final nip. His cock was hard as iron, but he wasn’t in a hurry to do anything about it, not yet. He wanted her where she was, wanted this quiet, intimate moment to last as long as she’d allow it. “You hungry?”

“Not yet.”

All the things he wanted to say swam through his mind, were on the tip of his tongue, but he kept them to himself. She wasn’t ready to hear them, not yet, despite the fact she was currently in his lap, wearing his shirt, in his apartment, without being forced to.

He had to keep things light—she was still so skittish, and if she thought he wanted more, he had no doubt she’d be out of here in a shot. “You wanna hang out today? Maybe catch a movie later?”

He felt her nod against his chest. “Sure.”

His heart hammered behind his ribs. This was it, the breakthrough he’d been hoping for, and he sure as hell refused to waste a second of it. “First, though”—he pulled her ass down tight against his erection—“we’re going back to bed.”

Deacon shoved his hands in his pockets and looked out over the city. He should have stayed home. He wasn’t getting any work done, not when all he could think about was Alex. She’d stayed with him Friday and Saturday night. They’d spent all of Saturday watching old DVDs, eating junk food, and fucking like rabbits. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her.

He wanted her still.

The only reason he was at the office and not holed up in his apartment with her, was that Alex had to go to work, some urgent job Rusty had called her in for. A protest had been on the tip of his tongue when she told him she had to leave. But he knew her well enough to know that wouldn’t fly.

He tried not to come in to work on the weekends, especially on Sunday. But the apartment had felt empty after she’d left. A damn mausoleum, like she said the first time she’d seen it. And there was plenty for him to do here. He had to go away for a few days, had meetings to prepare for, but he’d accomplished nothing, had been as good as useless all day.

“Screw this.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the door.

The elevator dinged as he shut the door behind him, and his ex-wife walked out. Her watery blue gaze lifted and caught on his immediately.

Jesus.

Tammy had obviously had fun spreading her poison. Thank God he was in the office alone. He did not need an audience for this.

“Deacon.” A shaky smile covered her face, and he had to fight not to outright growl with the rage he was suddenly feeling.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“You weren’t at your apartment. I tried here next and saw your car.” She took another step toward him. “Can we talk?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, not after your friend’s performance the other night.”