With her completely exposed in front of him, Deacon could only shake his head in wonder. How had he gotten to this place tonight? He had anticipated grilling a steak on the back porch, drinking a few beers and watching the news. Instead, he would gladly go without his dinner and feast on Cecelia instead.
He opened the condom and rolled it down his length and then crawled onto the bed, positioning himself between her still-quivering thighs.
This was the moment he’d waited for, fantasized about, since the day he and Cecelia had parted ways. The last time they’d made love had been the night before their high school graduation. He’d had no idea that the next day Cecelia would be breaking up with him. He’d had no idea that he was holding her for the last time, kissing her for the last time, until it was too late. Then, all he could do was long for what he lost and search for it in the arms of other women.
“Please,” Cecelia begged. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Deacon was more than happy to fulfill her wish. He slowly surged forward, pressing into her warmth until he was fully buried inside her. He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep control, as her tight muscles wrapped around him. She felt as good as he remembered. Maybe better.
Cecelia drew her knees up, wrapping her legs around his hips and holding him close. She reached up for him, cupping his face in her hands and drawing his mouth down to her own. He began to move, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. Her soft cries and groans of pleasure were muffled by his mouth against hers.
It didn’t take long for the tension to build up inside him. Cecelia was eager and hungry for him, and he was near his breaking point. He moved harder and faster as she clawed at his back. The sharp sting was a painful reminder that although he was enjoying this, he needed to remember who he was with. The Cecelia of his past, of his fantasies, was long gone. The woman beneath him was harder, shrewder and lacking the sweet innocence he’d always associated with her.
No matter what he tried to tell himself, Deacon knew that she was just using him. Whatever had happened between her and Chip tonight had driven her into his arms. She probably wanted to forget about everything that was going wrong in her life and was using Deacon as a reminder of when things were better. It had worked. Whatever tensions and worries she’d arrived with on his doorstep were gone.
Admittedly, his mood had improved, too. As Deacon focused on the soft warmth of her body, the stress of the day melted away and a new kind of tension took its place. Cecelia’s cries grew louder beneath him, signaling that she was close to another release. He wasn’t far behind her. Reaching between them, he stroked her center, pushing her over the edge once again.
“Deacon!” she cried out, writhing under him.
The tightening of her muscles around him drew him closer to his release. He thrust into her three more times, hard and fast, and it was done. His jaw dropped open with a silent scream as he poured himself into her willing body.
When it was over, Deacon pulled away from her and flopped back onto the bed. Staring up at his ceiling, he had a hard time believing everything that had just happened. He’d come back to Royal in the hopes that Cecelia might regret dumping him all those years ago.
This was way better.
* * *
Cecelia awoke with a start. She sat up in bed, her heart racing in her chest, as she looked around the unfamiliar room. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was, but the morning light streaming across the furniture and the shape of the man in bed beside her pieced it together.
Suddenly everything came back to her at once. She’d slept with Deacon. No, she’d thrown herself at Deacon and he’d had the courtesy not to turn her down and m
ake her look like a fool. What was she thinking, running to him like that? Of all the people in Royal?
Then again, who else did she have to turn to? She couldn’t blame last night on alcohol, but apparently the emotional trauma of her breakup with Chip was enough to dull her inhibitions. With the arrival of dawn, her good sense returned to her, and she realized that last night, however amazing, had been a terrible mistake.
She pulled back the blankets and slipped silently from the bed. She crept through the room, collecting her clothing, and carried it with her to the hallway, where she pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and got dressed.
She looked back at the door and pictured the man asleep beyond it only once before she disappeared down the hallway and out the front door. She practically held her breath until she had started her car and made it down the driveway without Deacon showing up at his front door to see her leave. It was better this way. Neither of them had to face the reality of last night and what it meant, which was a big nothing.
They were both under stress, and the sex had done its job and gotten it out of their systems. Hopefully, she would be able to finish her work at The Bellamy without this becoming a problem for her. She had enough to deal with, with the fallout of her broken engagement and the threat of Maverick looming overhead. She didn’t need any weird sexual tension buzzing between them while she was trying to pull off the design coup of the century.
Two hundred and fifty guest suites in less than a month was no laughing matter. It would take all of Cecelia’s focus and drive to make it happen. She didn’t have time for any distractions in her life, but she most certainly didn’t need Deacon, who would be at the hotel every day, reminding her of what they’d just done while she tried to work.
And yet, by the time she reached Pine Valley Estates, she was feeling guilty about running out. That was no way to treat Deacon, especially after how welcoming he’d been last night. He’d had every right to slam the door in her face when she showed up at his doorstep without warning. She was the one who had broken up with him because he wasn’t good enough for her. How dare she just show up and throw herself into his arms and expect him to welcome her? And yet he had.
Now she felt worse than ever.
She pulled her car into the garage at her château just around the time her alarm normally would wake her. There was no time for her to dwell on her mistakes. She needed to shower, change, grab a double-shot latte and get to work on her first day of The Bellamy project.
Cecelia made a stop at her office to collect the things she would need while she was working at the resort. With her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and a small file box of necessary paperwork and designs in hand, she headed back out to the receptionist’s desk.
Her secretary, Nancy, was sitting there when she arrived. “Good morning, Miss Morgan,” she said.
“Good morning, Nancy. Mr. Delgado and Mr. Chase graciously offered me an office at the hotel so I can oversee our work there over the next few weeks. Tell anyone who needs to get a hold of me that I have my cell phone and my computer.”
Nancy jotted the note on the paper pad beside her. She waved as Cecelia turned and went out the front door with her things.
By the time Cecelia arrived at The Bellamy, work was in full swing for the day. She spied her painting team’s truck, which meant that they were already laying a coat of steely-gray paint on the walls of every suite. By the time they were done, the wallpaper should have arrived and be ready to go on the accent walls and in the bathrooms.