“Yep.”
Presley snatched a room key. “I need a shower. See you up there.”
Deacon threaded his fingers through Molly’s and led her out of the hotel.
The summer night air held a sultry hint—an oddity since Colorado had low humidity. Once they reached the parking lot, Deacon directed her to his car with his hand in the small of her back.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I hate saying goodbye.”
“Me too.” Deacon’s hands slid up to cradle her head, holding her in place for his kiss.
The kiss didn’t veer into blinding passion, but it bubbled below the surface, waiting to erupt. It took more control from him to show her it was there than to just give in to it.
And then he gave in to it completely. “Need you,” he rasped against her throat. “In my bed. All weekend.”
Molly angled away from his wicked mouth to look into his eyes. “You’re inviting me to your place?”
“You’re surprised.”
“You’ve been secretive about where you live.”
“Not intentionally.” He pushed a hank of hair over her shoulder. “It’s just a habit.”
“Why?” Did he live in a scary neighborhood and worry that’d freak her out?
“I don’t take chicks to my place. Ever.”
Chicks. Sometimes she wanted to smack him. “Because you’re a slob?”
His lips twitched. “No. Just private.”
“Wow. I must be special,” she joked.
Deacon’s eyes softened. “You are.” Then he proved it by gifting her with a sweet kiss.
Molly’s belly performed a slow roll. Her head told her this was all going way too fast. Her heart agreed. Her body . . . well, it had a mind of its own when it came to Deacon McConnell. As it’d proved every night this week, basking in the worship Deacon focused on every inch of her flesh.
“You make that noise again and I’m fucking you right here against the car,” he grumbled against her lips.
“Sorry.” She forced herself to release him. “I know you have to go. Drive safe.”
“I will. Call me when you get into town tomorrow. Pack a bag and plan on staying until Monday morning, okay?”
“Okay.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DEACON lived in a condo complex in the part of Denver known as the golden triangle, closer to Black Arts than Molly’s apartment in the university section.
After meeting her out front, he climbed in and directed her to one of his parking spots in the underground garage. “Must be nice not to have to scrape your windows in the morning.”
He shrugged.
They took the elevator to the sixth floor.
Deacon hadn’t said much—nothing new for him. But he seemed tense.
As soon as he unlocked the door and shunted her inside, he had her pressed against the wall. He didn’t kiss her. He just studied her.
“What?”
“Tell me you’re hungry.”
“Uh, why?”
“So I don’t fuck you right where you stand.”
Molly stroked Deacon’s freshly shaved head. “Then you’d better feed me after you give me a tour.”
He gave her a quick kiss and backed away. Clasping her hand, he pulled her from the foyer around a wall that revealed the living room.
The openness of the space brought to mind Amery’s loft. But the kitchen was walled off and had an eat-in bar on one side like a restaurant pass-through. “I like this feature.” She ran her hand along the countertop. “It’s funky yet functional.”
They skirted the wall and entered the kitchen. It wasn’t huge, but wasn’t as dinky as hers either. Cleaner than hers too. Talk about spotless. He hadn’t left as much as a spoon in the ceramic sink.
The space had warmer tones than she’d expected: honey-colored cabinets, rust-colored walls, and small turquoise accents. No ostentatious appliances like a six-burner gas stove, a double oven, or an industrial-sized refrigerator.
Deacon wasn’t paying attention to her checking out his kitchen. He rummaged through a stack of take-out menus. “What’re you in the mood for?”
Molly stood beside him and rested the side of her face on his biceps. “You choose. Something fairly healthy.”
“House of Chicken makes a mean chicken spinach salad.”
“I’ll have that.” She pressed a kiss on the ball of his shoulder. Then another. “Whatever light dressing they have.”
He hadn’t moved.
“But if that’s not what you want—”
Deacon wrapped his hand around her neck, below her jaw. “You don’t even have to try, do you? You are just naturally affectionate.”