Home > Never with Me(7)

Never with Me(7)
Author: Kaylee Ryan

The kiss is slow and sweet. Over and over again, he kisses me with such reverence it brings tears to my eyes and causes a moan to slip past my lips. That seems to fuel him. One hand slides behind my neck, pulling me closer while the other remains on my cheek. When he nips at my bottom lip, I gasp in surprise, but I don’t hate it.

All too quickly, he removes his lips from mine. Slowly, I open my eyes to see that his are closed. His hand still grips the back of my neck while the other rests tenderly against my cheek. His chest rises rapidly with each breath.

When his tongue darts out to lick his lips, his name falls past mine. “Deacon,” I murmur.

His eyes pop open. Gold pools of desire stare back at me. I watch as he smiles and shakes his head. “Come on, darlin’.” With that, he moves his hands toward my waist. “I’m going to lift you from the wall.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Okay.”

“Hey.” Once again, his index finger gently lifts my chin so my gaze meets his. “Not because I don’t want to be standing here with you. Not because I don’t want to kiss the breath from your lungs. But because I want to do those things. This isn’t the place for that. Not with an audience.”

His words are like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head. Palmer is capturing all of this. My face heats. She’s my best friend, and here I am, mauling her brother.

He smiles, and I feel my world tilt. “Come on, Ramsey. We have a show to put on.” His smile is big, and his eyes sparkle, and I don’t hate today. I don’t hate it at all. “I’m going to lift you,” he reminds me. His hands are back on my hips, and he effortlessly lifts me from the wall.

Instead of placing me on my feet, he lifts me higher over his head. His face is tilted back, smiling up at me. On instinct, I brace my hands on his shoulders for support.

“Oh, very Dirty Dancing, big brother,” Palmer calls out. “This is gold.” I don’t bother to look toward my best friend. I already know she’s circling us, trying to capture the moment from every angle.

Deacon’s deep, throaty laugh sends heat between my thighs. Slowly, he lowers me, letting my body slide against his until my feet are once again firmly planted on the ground. He leans in close, his lips hovering next to my ear. “You’re beautiful,” he says, quickly pulling back.

“Tell us where you want us,” he says to his sister.

“Um, y’all are doing fine on your own.” Palmer makes a show of fanning her face with her hand.

Deacon turns to look at me. “I’m going to hold you,” he says as his arm slides behind my back. He’s still staring down at me. I barely come to his shoulders, and that’s with my wedges that I’m wearing. “Swings?” he asks.

“I’m wearing a dress.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m well aware that you’re wearing a sexy-as-fuck dress.” He bites down on his bottom lip. “That’s all that was between us sitting on that wall,” he reminds me.

“I’m sorry?” It’s posed as a question. I’m not sure how to read him.

“Darlin’,” he drawls, bending to place his lips next to my ear. “Never apologize for your pussy being nestled against my cock.” His voice is gravelly and deep and causes goose bumps to break out on my skin.

He clears his throat and adjusts his stance. I want to look down, but I can’t do it. I already felt him on the wall, and when my body slid over his when he set me on my feet. Deacon is unlike any man I’ve ever met. He’s open and polite and apparently, a little dirty too, if his most recent confession is an indication.

“Come.” With his arm still wrapped around my waist, he guides us toward the swings. “I’ll push you.” He releases me and holds a swing for me to sit on.

“You’re not going to swing with me?” I ask him.

He steps in front of me, where I perch on the swing. Tilting my head back, I peer up at him. He grips the chains and bends in close. “If I swing with you, I can’t touch you.”

I swallow hard. “Is that what you want to do?”

“More than I should,” he replies, leaning in closer. “Can I touch you, Ramsey?”

“Yes.” This time my voice is clear. There’s no hesitation or stutter of my words.

“Ramsey.”

“Deacon.”

“I’m coming in close.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to kiss you again.”

This time I nod as my tongue peeks out, and I lick my lips.

“Killing me,” he mumbles as his lips press to mine. It’s just a peck compared to the kiss he gave me earlier. However, it’s still his lips connecting with mine, which causes a thrill to race through my veins.

I would never have imagined this is how today would have turned out. I went from dreading the shoot and wanting it to be over to hoping that the moment never ends.

I trace his bottom lip with my tongue, needing more of him. However, Deacon pulls back and points his index finger at me. “Behave,” he playfully scolds me.

I can’t hide my smile.

I don’t want to.

Deacon steps behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. He massages gently before he gives me a soft push. He does this over and over until I’m flying high, like a middle-schooler at recess. My hair is flying all over the place, and I’m thankful I thought to tuck my dress around my legs and between my thighs, or I’d be giving Palmer some X-rated material to shoot.

With each pump of my legs, my soul grows lighter, and the heaviness that seems to reside on my shoulders day in, day out fades away. “Higher!” I call out to Deacon, and his deep laughter fuels my own.

I don’t know how long I swing, but when I glance over and see Palmer staring down at her camera, I know my time is up. I stop pumping my legs and eventually drag my feet so the swing will stop. Deacon is there, offering me his hand. I don’t hesitate to place mine in his, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

His arm snakes around my waist, and his lips land on my temple.

“Wait!” Palmer calls out. “I need to snap that.” She runs over to us and bends down, snapping picture after picture.

“I think you got it, sis.” Deacon chuckles.

Palmer looks up at us with a blinding smile. “You two are pure gold. I cannot wait to start editing these and printing them.”

“I get one of each.”

“Sure. I’ll print you copies. Both of you.”

“Palmer.” Deacon waits until she looks up at him. “One of every image.”

Palmer’s mouth drops open, and I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen her speechless. Well, unless she’s standing in a room with all nine of my cousins. That’s a lot for any woman to take in.

“Palmer?”

“Yes, of course,” she says, looking at me, her eyes widening.

“Do you have what you need?” I ask her.

“This is so much better than I expected.” She glances at her camera. “I did have one more scene idea.”

“What’s that?” Deacon asks.

She points behind us, and there’s a quilt spread out on the grass. “Maybe just sit close to one another and talk? Or kiss? Or… whatever feels right.” She grins. Her smile is full of mischief, and if I’m not mistaken, a little bit of hope.

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