Two hours later, I was feeling more sexually frustrated than I’d ever felt in my life. I’d been lying on the couch for over twenty minutes, with the mint chemise artfully slipped off one shoulder. Deacon had barely even looked at me. He’d mumbled something and then disappeared into the kitchen.
What’s wrong with me? I wondered as I reached up to pat my hair. It was still in place, and I knew I looked good.
So why wasn’t he making a move?
Suddenly, I had an idea.
“Deacon!” I called loudly, sitting up and rubbing my neck. “Can you come here for a moment?”
I heard a loud sigh, followed by heavy footsteps into the living room. Deacon appeared, looking both incredibly sexy and disheveled. His dark hair was even more unruly than usual as it stood up in little cowlicks over his head, and I c
