Only Witness, The (4 page)

              The front door was locked, the closed sign was up and it was nearly time for her to turn off the lights and head upstairs. The register should already have been counted and the deposit for the bank done. Instead she was still in front of the desktop computer looking at images. “I need food, sleep and more wine.” More wine was a must.

              Vera shut down the computer and swiveled the chair towards the register to begin the count. A loud knock on the door startled her; looking up to see Deacon Hawke standing there was enough to make her drop the register key. “Shit.” She popped up from the chair, moved over to the door. “We're closed.” She spoke from behind the still closed door as if he were just going to turn around and walk away.

              Deacon raised his hand and rapped his fingers against the glass again. “Open the door.” His voice carried easily, the sound raced up her spine. Fear sprang to life inside of her but she knew that he could break the door down with no effort. Maybe the fact that he hadn't was a good thing. Either way, she pulled open the door, resigned to whatever would come out of his mouth.

              “We're closed,” she repeated, once again hoping against hope that a second time hearing the words would make them sink in for him. One look at the grin on his face told her otherwise.

              “Maybe I'm here for my chair,” he stepped forward and used his large size to his advantage. Vera had no alternative but to take a step back and let him in, even as her heart hammered against her chest.

              Maybe he was here because he knew what she'd seen the night before. Maybe he was using the cover of darkness to get rid of her once and for all. She swallowed hard and forced words to come out of her mouth. “It's going to be a bitch to move the chair on your bike.”

              Deacon chuckled and leaned in closer to her. “Smart woman,” he reached out and twirled a strand of her hair that had escaped her bun around his finger. “I like smart women.”

              “And here I thought that you chose by bra size,” the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them, and she realized that she'd tipped her hand. She'd just essentially told him that she paid attention to who he slept with. Great, just great. He let out a loud laugh, obviously amused by her words, and that amusement pissed her off. “Why don't you tell me why you're really here?”

              Deacon released her hair and let his hand slip to cup the back of her neck. “How about I show you?” If her heart had been beating fast before, it was nearly coming out of her chest now, and the feel off his hand pressed against the back of her neck created an ache between her legs. Vera wanted him to show her—hell she thought that she might just need him to show her. It was all that she could think of.

              His hand settled on her hip, drew her towards him so that their bodies touched. The feeling of the hard lines of his body pressed against hers was as intoxicating as the feeling of his hand on the back of her neck.

              Vera reached out to touch him as the kiss grew deeper; her hands found the well worn leather of his cut and held on tight. She could barely breathe, but that didn't mean she wanted him to stop. Truthfully she'd never been so turned on so quickly before. Deacon shifted his head slightly, changed the angle just enough so that when he began to kiss her again the force of his mouth took her by surprise.

              Vera threw every caution to the wind, ignored the part of her that screamed this was a mistake and gave herself over to him. In that moment nothing mattered but the feeling of his hands on her body. She wanted their clothes off so she could feel skin to skin. Impatiently she tugged at his cut, drew him closer to her.

              Vera felt her face flush as his hands moved to cup her ass. There was no denying the growing hardness of his length pressed against her. It made her blush even deeper when her hips moved instinctively against his. Deacon let out a low growl, tore his lips from hers. “Where's your bedroom?”

              The question snapped Vera back to reality, back to where they were and the position that they were in. The position that she was in. Here she was, ready and willing to give her body to a man she feared might want to kill her. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

              “Vera,” his large hands were gentle, surprisingly so, as he cupped her face. Their eyes met and she saw concern. “You good? You with me?”

              Suddenly Vera felt ridiculous for more reasons than she could ever count. “I'm...” her eyes stayed on his, “this wasn't what I was expecting when I opened the door.” It was a struggle to keep her train of thought because she just wanted to lean into him, to lose herself in him. What the hell was wrong with her?

              “What were you expecting, Vera?” He kept his hands on her face.

              “Not this,” she replied, “not that I'm complaining.”

              “We don't have to go to bed. It's your choice, Sweetheart, I've never forced a woman to do anything in my life. I'm not looking to start now.” He released her face, ran his fingers up and down her arms. “You tell me what you want.”

              Vera held back a moan as his arms gripped her shoulders; he was holding her tight to him. The sound of his heart was even and steady, his embrace warm, comforting and more than that, erotic. The pressure of his length against her made the ache between her legs become a throb. “If we go upstairs what happens after? What happens tomorrow?”

              “I'm not making any promises to you, Vera. Tonight is tonight, tomorrow is tomorrow. Are we clear on that?”

              It wouldn't be her first one night stand; it probably wouldn't even be her last. There were times when a woman had needs, when taking care of herself and relying on her battery operated best friend just didn't do it. Usually she went far from Center City to scratch that itch but this time Vera was pretty damn sure that she could make an exception.

              “We're clear,” with the decision made, Vera shifted so that he'd release her shoulders. She stretched up to kiss him. Never before had she realized just how enticing a man with a beard was, “The bedroom is upstairs. You can't miss it.”

              Vera gasped as he slid his hands down her body and lifted her. “Easy now, I won't drop you.” He mumbled the words against her lips.

              Vera let out a nervous laugh, she felt almost like she was drunk. Could she be intoxicated by a person? Was it possible? It made sense because she'd never felt this good, ever, and she'd felt pretty fucking good. It occurred to her as he began to climb the stairs that she may very well be going mad. After all, she was now in the arms of the man she thought wanted to kill her. “Deacon,” she whispered his name but knew he heard, “promise you won't hurt me?”

              His expression softened, he paused at the top of the stairs. “I'm not going to hurt you, Vera. Don't even worry about that.” He pushed open the door and stepped into the apartment. “Well, you weren't kidding about me not being able to miss the bedroom.”

              “The bed is right over there,” she glanced over her shoulder, glad that she'd taken the time to make the bed that morning.

              “I see it,” he tightened his grip on her ass, Vera moaned and felt him grow harder against her.

              Vera had her legs locked around him. She hadn't trusted that he wouldn't drop her. Hell, no one had ever carried her before. It had been a great feeling, no doubt made better by the way it pressed his hardness against her. They were definitely wearing too many clothes. Vera shifted against him; the tension building up inside of her was nearly too much to take. “Deacon?”

              “Call me Deke,” he growled the word and found her mouth again. “Say it.”

              “Deke,” she breathed out the word, “please.” Vera wasn't sure what she was asking for but she was willing to take anything that he had to offer. In that moment she couldn't think of a single thing that would make her stop him.

              He chuckled and the sound rumbled through his chest. Vera felt it down to her core. “Easy Sweetheart, we're getting there.”

              “Get there faster,” Vera suggested as she nipped down on his bottom lip. “I really want you, Deke.” His only response was action, her back hit the bed and his lips found her throat. He licked, kissed and finally nipped down. There was no controlling the way that her hips rolled against him. For a moment Vera was embarrassed as he pulled back from her, she thought it was something she'd done but then realized he was just starting to remove his clothes.

              She watched him undress with appreciation. He handled his clothing carefully, especially his cut, which he rose to his feet to place on the back of a straight backed chair she sat on to do her hair and makeup in the morning. It was surreal to watch him strip down to nothing and know that he was there for her, aroused beyond belief for her.

              She sat up as he came back towards the bed, pulled her shirt over her head to reveal the black and pink bra she'd thrown on in her rush to dress that morning. It was only when the shirt hit the floor that she realized she was sure she hadn't picked a matching pair of panties this morning. Of all the days not to color coordinate she chose this one, wasn't that always the way?

              Nerves came to life in her stomach, her hands trembled as she reached for the button on her jeans. She stopped and looked up when Deacon's hands covered hers. “Lay back,” he spoke softly, so softly that she almost wasn't sure she'd heard him right.

              She was only sure that she did when his hands moved to guide her back, then they were removing her jeans. Vera lifted her hips enough to help him pull down the denim, watched his face carefully for any trace that her mismatched undergarments were a turn off. There was no such expression on his face.

              His hands were less than gentle when he pushed her legs as far apart as they would go. Vera was glad that she'd gotten her bikini area waxed, the hair that remained was shaped into a tiny triangle. Maybe he preferred woman who were fully waxed. What if her hair was the deal breaker and not her mismatched panty and bra? Or maybe the combination of the two was the true deal breaker and he was so turned off that he was looking for a way to stop.

              “Deke?” Her voice sounded strange to her ears, it was too high and just shaky enough for her to realize she was open like a book to him.

              “Yeah, Sweetheart?” His eyes came up from her nether region to meet hers. If Vera had to describe the look on his face she'd have said hunger. Hunger was good. Hunger meant that there had been no deal breaker, not yet.

              “Do you have a condom?” The question had to be asked. Vera held her breath, if he didn't she might just explode in a ball of flame because she could feel the heat of her arousal spreading through every nerve in her body.

              “I do,” he confirmed, a smile played across his lips. “Don't think we need one just yet, though, because before anything I need to taste you.”

              A whimper escaped Vera's throat at the words. Her battery operated boyfriend was great but there was one thing that it couldn't simulate, and that was the feeling of a mouth on her. How long had it been since someone had done that to her? It was probably sad to admit that she couldn't quite remember.

              “You like that idea?” There was humor in his eyes as he leaned down and pressed his lips against her stomach.

              “Yes,” Vera's hands moved over his hair. Her eyes fell shut as his mouth moved lower and lower. His tongue skated over the hard nub of flesh at her core and anything else in the world didn't exist, just the feeling of his mouth on her. If Vera had been more in control of herself she would have been embarrassed by the sounds coming out of her mouth and the way that her body bucked greedily against him.

              She wanted more, needed more. “Deke. Deke. Deke.” She didn't realize she was chanting his name until he growled against her. The feeling sent a whole new wave of sensation through her. As she repeated his name over and over, he pushed his mouth harder and faster. He slipped his hand down her leg, pressed his fingers inside of her. Something inside of Vera burst; her hips bucked one time, hard, and then she was coming, hard.

              Her hands reached for him, greedy fingers sliding over smooth skin. Her body still hummed from the force of the sensations going through her. She wanted more. Needed more. Needed him to want her the way that she wanted him.

              The fire was building in her again. “Deke,” her lips grazed over his shoulder.

              “It's time to get that condom, now.” He slid off the bed towards where he'd left his jeans. Nerves roared to life in Vera's stomach, they were really going to do this. It wasn't that she'd doubted it before, but the reality hit her. Her heart began to race in her chest as he joined her on the bed.

              “C'mere,” he drew her close, captured her mouth with his.

              She was ready for him, her body ached with the need to have him inside of her. “Please,” she was feeling greedy after the force of the orgasm he'd given her using his mouth and hands. Deacon didn't make her wait, the next thing she knew she was flat on her back. His mouth was still on hers and swallowed the cries that followed as he positioned himself against her warmth and pushed in.

              Vera flexed her hips, felt her body stretch to accommodate his length and width. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd felt so full, maybe never. It was a glorious sensation right on the sharp edge of pleasure and pain. Her legs moved around his waist, holding him tight against her.

              He began to move inside of her, slow at first and then the strokes became harder, faster, deeper. Vera couldn't control herself; cries spilled from her throat and at one point she began to beg him to go harder and deeper even though she wasn't sure that was even possible.