Ruin: Wicked Love (Wicked Breed MC)

4. Katie

Katie“Ugh!” I groaned loudly. “Deacon! What the hell? Did you just make espresso?”

“Yeah,” Deacon grunted. He was sitting at the kitchen table in my breakfast nook reading the paper. “What? What did I do this time?”

I sighed. “It doesn’t f*****g matter,” I snapped, unplugging the espresso machine. “Just don’t touch this again!”

Deacon laughed. “Princess, I think I know how to work a coffee maker,” he said. “I’ve been doing it long enough.”

“Just like you know how to sit around, read the paper, and ignore me?” I raised my eyebrows and put my hands on my hips. “You’re damn good at that!”

“Hey,” Deacon snapped. “Doing my best here, girlie. What the f**k do you want? You want me to follow you around like a little dog?”

Deacon had moved in almost two weeks ago, and his idiosyncrasies were already starting to drive me crazy. With a sigh, I stalked out of the kitchen and flopped down on the living room sofa. My whole condo was decorated in complementary colors: ivory, gold, and pink, with grey and pink marble accents. I wasn’t used to having a man in my space, either, and living with Deacon was going to be much more of a pain in the ass than I was willing to admit. For one thing, I wasn’t used to having to wear actual clothes around the home. I loved lounging around in lingerie and pretty little chemises, but with Deacon’s prying eyes, I’d been wearing a little more. Like right now, I was wearing my favorite La Perla silk chemise with a kimono on top, and I felt so overdressed!

“Hey,” Deacon barked. “Katie, what the f**k?”

I rolled my eyes when I saw that he’d followed me into the living room.

“Go away.” I sat up on the couch and reached for the remote. “I’m going to watch TV.”

“I’ll sit with you,” Deacon said. “I bet you’re gonna put on Real Housewives, aren’t you?”

“None of your business,” I said. I adjusted myself on the couch. My kimono slipped down one of my shoulders, and I didn’t think to pull it back up, even when Deacon’s eyes focused on me and stared.

“Do you always dress like a hooker?”

I turned to him and put the remote down. “Excuse me?”

“I asked, do you always dress like this?” Deacon pointed at my chest, then slowly trailed his finger down in the air. I shuddered; even though he was seated five feet away, it was almost as if I could feel his hot touch around my breasts and tummy.

“I do,” I said. “At least, when I’m at home.” I tossed my blonde curls over one shoulder. “Normally, I wear less,” I added. “But since you’re here, I feel like I should worry a little more about being polite.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Deacon grunted. He reached forward and pulled a giant book off the coffee table. As he flipped through the pages, I licked my lips and kept my eyes trained closely on his body. “What is this?”

“That’s my coffee table book,” I said primly. “I wrote it, as soon as I won Miss California.”

Deacon rolled his eyes. “I shoulda known,” he grumbled, flipping the pages rapidly. “There’s almost no fuckin’ words here, just pictures of you prancing around in a bikini.”

“Hey,” I snapped. “That was a bestseller on sss!” I preened and sat up straighter, picking through the ends of my hair with a manicured nail. “I made sure it did well.”

Deacon nodded. “I bet you did,” he said under his breath. I waited for him to follow-up, but the room stayed silent. With a sigh, I picked up the remote and turned to my saved TV shows. After selecting a rerun of The Bachelor, I pulled my legs up on the couch and covered myself with a woven silk and chenille pink throw that I kept folded up for times like these.

“You’re f*****g insipid,” Deacon said. His voice was almost cheerful. “You just sit at home all day, rotting your brain with trash television. This is the most boring job in the world.”

“I don’t,” I argued. “I do things.”

“Oh yeah?” Deacon stood up. My book fluttered to the floor, and I glared at Deacon until he made a show of leaning over and picking it up. “Like what?”

“I go out, I go to the gym, I go shopping,” I said, tapping a finger with each item. “I do things, Deacon. Just not like you.” I sniffed. “You’re probably a criminal or something. Anna told me all about your little club.”

Deacon snorted. “Yeah, my little club that pulls in a few million each year.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “You’d think that someone as spoiled as you would know better, princess.”

“A few million?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t believe that,” I scoffed. “If you made that kind of money, you wouldn’t be here.”

Deacon snorted again. “Yeah, right,” he said. “I gotta earn a little side hustle, too. You don’t know anything about me, babe,” he added. “If you did, I bet you wouldn’t be so cavalier.”

I turned up the volume on the TV and turned away from him. “Whatever,” I mumbled. “Like I even care right now.”

Even though Deacon stayed quiet for the rest of the episode, I couldn’t concentrate. Something was really bothering me – and I had no idea what it was. Normally, when I felt like this, I’d go shopping or call Anna and tell her to arrange a party for me and my friends downtown. Ever since I’d found that creeptastic email, I hadn’t even felt like going out. Clubs were all the same – dark, smoky, anonymous. I didn’t want to take the risk of being out in public if there was a chance I really did have a stalker. A club would be the first place he could grab me.

After the episode was over, I stared at the credit sequence for a long time. I couldn’t even begin to think about what had happened on TV, and I was no closer to figuring out which one of the women Bachelor Ben was going to end up with. It was like I’d wasted an hour just sitting there thinking about Deacon.

“You look like you’re concentrating hard on something,” Deacon said. “You wanna clue me in, babe?”

“Ugh,” I muttered under my breath. I stood up off the couch, my kimono falling down into a graceful pile of silk on the floor. “No. I think I need some tea or coffee or something.”

Deacon stared at me. “Look,” he said. “You don’t have to be such a brat.” He stood up and walked closer to me. As soon as I caught the whiff of tobacco and leather, I began to tremble. I didn’t understand it; I’d never felt this conflicted before about anyone. Part of me wanted to kiss him, wrap my arms around his strong, muscular neck and pull him close. The other part of me wanted to slap that smug grin off his face, and maybe tell him to shave while I was at it!

“I know,” I said. I smiled, aware of Deacon’s eyes clinging to my body. “But this is my house, and I’ll act however I want.” My mouth went dry as Deacon stepped closer, and I licked my lips. “And you don’t have to follow me around,” I added. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to, I don’t know, stay outside and watch for intruders?”

Deacon threw his head back and laughed. “You’ve been watching too many movies, princess,” he said derisively. “I’m not worried about that. If someone wants you, they’re not going to wait until the middle of the night to sneak in. You remember what happened to Victoria Beckham?”

I groaned. “How would someone like you know anything about her?” Victoria Beckham was, admittedly, one of my idols. I loved everything about her. The way she kept her figure after four kids, her collection of Birkins, her insanely hot soccer player husband.

“Remember that time she was on stage?” Deacon smirked. “That little red light appeared on her chest?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. I tossed my blonde hair over my shoulder.

“Well, maybe you should read the news, honey,” Deacon said. Sarcasm dripped from his words. “She was almost shot by a sniper in a crowded amphitheater.”

My blood ran cold as I fully processed the meaning of his words. I blinked. “Um,” I said. “Wh– what exactly are you trying to say?”

Deacon walked closer, crossing his arms over his muscular, brawny chest mimicking my stance. “I’m saying,” he said in a low voice, leaning close. “That if someone wanted to hurt you, it wouldn’t matter where you were. They’d have a plot. They’d have a plan.”

My heart began to thump like I was hooked up to a jackhammer. I blinked. “And…?”

“And if you wanna be safe, you’d better trust me,” Deacon grunted. He was so close that I could see the golden flecks in his deep blue eyes. “You’d better do everything I say. And I mean everything.”

I licked my lips again. My heart rate showed no signs of slowing down as I swallowed hard and took a step backwards. Deacon stepped closer, advancing on me.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I said softly. My voice trembled. “You’re a criminal. You used to sell drugs.”

Deacon laughed. “But I’m here now,” he said slowly. His voice was low and soft and sent a tingle of lust down my spine. “And I’m not anywhere close to drugs. Just p***y,” he added. “The most potent drug there is.”

I leaned forward and pushed him away. “God, grow up!”

Deacon laughed from behind me. “You’re such a prude,” he teased. “You can’t even stand hearing the name of your own anatomy.”

I wrinkled my nose and turned back around. Deacon was standing with his legs spread apart, his hands planted firmly on his hips. The sun streaming through the windows glinted off his hair and made his eyes look cornflower blue. Even though he was only wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, I had a hard time remembering the last time I’d seen such an attractive man.

Katie, don’t be stupid, I thought to myself. You spend your days around movie stars and rock musicians. You’ve seen guys that are hotter than this criminal.

“I’m not a prude.” I bit my lip and looked down at my chemise. I loved the way this one had always fit. My breasts were lifted perfectly up in the air, making me look as though I’d had implants. “I mean, if I were prude, would I be wearing this?”

Deacon snorted. “Hey, I never said you couldn’t be a prude and a cocktease at the same time,” he said. He winked at me, and I felt a hot, frustrating flush rise to my cheeks. “You can be both, babe. In fact, you definitely are.”

I shook my head furiously and stomped my foot on the ground. “You don’t know anything about me,” I said. I pouted at him. “I’ve had so many boyfriends it would make your head spin if I told you about all of them.”

Deacon crossed the floor so quickly that I had to blink. Before I could react or cry out, he wrapped a muscular arm around my waist and pulled me close, crushing my body against his own. I cried out as he covered my lips with his, slipping his tongue into my mouth and kissing me passionately. He tasted like coffee and smoke and I melted against his brawny chest as his tongue licked mine. His fingers tangled in my hair pulling me deeper into his kiss. Moaning softly, I stretched up on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around Deacon’s neck. His body against mine was an incredible feeling. My nerves tingled and my heart raced in my chest as Deacon nibbled on my lower lip.

After what felt like an eternity, I came to my senses. This is the man who mockingly calls you ‘princess,’ I thought. This is the man who doesn’t take you seriously at all! What are you doing, Katie?

I pulled away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Oh my God,” I said. I blushed. “I’m so sorry. That– that shouldn’t have happened!”

Deacon stared at me. His blue eyes were even more intense than usual and his lips were pink and swollen from the intensity of our kiss. I wanted to kiss him again, so badly, that I felt it in my bones.

“My fault,” Deacon said. He shrugged and winked. I blushed even harder. “I’ll stay away from you, princess.”

“I hate that name,” I said as I wrinkled my nose and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m Katie.”

“What about Kat?”

“God, no!” I stuck my tongue out. “I hate that, too.”

Deacon raised his eyebrows. “Kathy?”

I glared at him. “That’s even worse!” I cried loudly.

Deacon burst out laughing. His laugh was nice – a rich, baritone sound that filled the room. It was almost enough to make me stop frowning. Almost.

“Okay, okay, no Kathy,” Deacon said. He tapped his scruffy chin with a finger. “I kind of like Kat. D’ya think you’d ever come around to that?”

“Are you kidding me?” I sassed him. “What the f**k, Deacon? No!”

Deacon laughed again, throwing his head back and facing the ceiling. “This is too easy,” he said with a smirk once he’d righted himself. “You’re too much, you know that?”

“I’ve been told before,” I said primly. “Not like it’s any of your business, though.”

Deacon shook his head. “You’re a fuckin’ piece of work,” he mumbled. “I should charge extra for this.”

I glanced around. “Oh, yeah, you should definitely charge more. I know that I’m basically holding you hostage in this hovel, and you deserve much more than that,” I added, letting sarcasm drip from my last words. “God knows, you probably deserve this more than I do! Why don’t I just pay you with the deed to my condo?”

Deacon grinned. “That would be great,” he said. “You willing to do that?”

Everything in me wanted to fight with him on this, to engage him, to fight him and tear him down and make him understand what a self-righteous prick he was being. But then a vision of Arielle, my yogini, popped into my head. I imagined her bowing her head to me, wishing me peace and calm, telling me to harness my inner strength. I took a deep breath and tried to exhale all of the anger (and admittedly, all of the lust) that I felt towards Deacon.

“No,” I said, opening my eyes and staring Deacon down. “That was a joke. I’m going out,” I added. “Are you coming or staying here?”

Deacon shrugged. “Do I really gotta choice?”