Page 4 of Deacon (Men of Clifton, Montana #52)

Ava lingered before the narrow, oblong mirror mounted on the back of the bathroom door, smoothing an errant strand of hair behind her ear, something she did out of habit rather than necessity.

The soft yellow light of the fixture above cast gentle shadows on her reflection, highlighting the faint tremor in her lips.

Her phone still in hand, she stared at the unanswered call from her brother.

He’d invited her to dinner, again, but she’d declined without explanation.

She knew Tyler; a protective older brother with a blunt tongue, who’d holler at her for even entertaining the idea of sharing a meal with a man she didn’t know.

But Deacon Anderson was different. Since her divorce, she’d tossed her heart at half a dozen men and none had stirred more than a flicker of genuine curiosity.

Deacon’s quiet confidence, the set of his jaw when he spoke, the way his eyes held hers…

she wanted to leave all of that unexplored no longer.

Only one night, she promised herself. Their homes lay hours apart; she would have one evening in his company, but nothing more.

Six months had passed since her mother’s passing, and though Tyler’s wife and children filled their own ranch house with laughter, her father still sat at the long dining table alone. She was all he had right now.

She squared her shoulders before stepping into the elevator, smoothing the fabric of her skintight black dress with matching stilettos. She wore her blonde hair up in a loose bun with tendrils framing her face.

The metal walls closed around her with a soft hiss.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She wasn’t reckless, her history with men would fit on the fingers of one hand, but tonight, she wanted desire unmasked.

She gave herself a mental shake. What man, after all, wouldn’t welcome passion for an evening?

When the doors slid open onto the hotel lobby, she crossed her fingers and hurried toward the restaurant entrance.

The warm glow of lanterns, the muted clink of silverware, the low hum of conversation greeted her, yet she scanned every table until her heart lurched.

Then she saw him at the polished mahogany bar, one elbow resting on the top, his gaze locked on her.

His smile spread slowly as he rose and crossed the room.

He wore dark blue jeans and a red dress shirt.

“Hi. You look absolutely stunning,” he said in a low voice that seemed to vibrate through her.

“Hi, and you look very handsome,” she breathed. “I was afraid you might’ve changed your mind.”

He chuckled. “I promised I’d be here. Besides, I invited you. Let’s get a table.” He slipped his fingers around her elbow; heat pooled at her skin, tracing all the way to her toes.

He drew out the chair for her. Ava sank into the soft cushion with a smile, manners mattered, and he had them. Once she settled, he slid into his seat opposite her, then removed his hat and placed it on an empty chair. A waitress appeared and set down menus and waited.

“I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay, please,” Ava said .

“Just water for me, thanks,” Deacon told the waitress.

After the woman retreated, Ava cocked an eyebrow. “No wine or beer?”

Deacon’s lips curved. “I’ll indulge once in a while, but tonight, I need to stay sharp.”

“Alright,” Ava said, her voice softer now. She picked up the menu and ran her eyes over the offerings. The candlelight flickered across the table, casting dancing shadows on the tablecloth.

“Have you eaten here before?” she asked after a moment.

He shook his head. “First time in this hotel. Everything looks good, though.”

“How often are you on the road?” she inquired, lifting her chin.

“Less than I used to be. Most of my work keeps me around Clifton these days. We’ve had an uptick in livestock rustling, got to stay on top of it.”

Ava’s lips curved into a playful grin. “Well, I’m glad you ventured out for this one.”

Their eyes met across the table. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she looked down, tracing the rim of her wine glass with her fingertip.

“So, do you run a ranch?” he asked as he lifted his glass.

“My father raises Charolais cattle.”

“Good, sturdy breed.”

“My brother runs the ranch and I take care of the bookkeeping, sales, and payroll. I hope you get the men you’re after.”

He nodded. “I appreciate that. These guys have slipped out of jail before on technicalities, but I’ll catch them. This time, they’re going away for good. ”

Ava offered him a steady smile. “I believe you.”

He leaned forward, earnest. “I won’t give up until I do.” The candles flickered once more, sealing the promise between them as the night stretched ahead in possibility.

“Deacon, I have to be honest with you. I’m only looking for one night. I’m not interested in a relationship right now and since we don’t live close together, I don’t see it happening.”

“I’m fine with that.” Deacon lifted his glass and saluted her with it.

After their food arrived, they talked and laughed as if they’d known each other for years. Ava was so excited to get him to her room.

The air between them was thick with unspoken desire, a tension so intense it could’ve been cut with a knife.

Dinner had been a tease, a slow burn of stolen glances and lingering touches that left them both aching for more.

The moment they stumbled into her room, the facade of civility shattered like cheap glass.

Deacon’s hands were on her before the door even clicked shut, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pushed her against the wall, his mouth crashing into hers like a damn hurricane.

Ava moaned into his kiss, her lips parting eagerly to let his tongue invade her mouth, hot and demanding.

Her hands clawed at his shirt, ripping it open with a ferocity that sent buttons scattering across the floor.

His chest was fucking amazing, all hard muscle and taut skin, and she couldn’t resist sinking her teeth into his shoulder, marking him as hers.

Deacon growled, low and primal, his hands sliding down to grip her ass, lifting her effortlessly as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He carried her to the bed, their mouths never breaking contact, their bodies grinding together in a desperate rhythm.

Ava’s dress was a nuisance, and Deacon made quick work of it, pulling the fabric away like it was tissue paper.

She was left in nothing but a lacy black thong.

He tossed her onto the bed, and she landed with a gasp, her nipples already hard and begging for his attention.

Deacon didn’t waste a second. He toed off his boots, stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs, his cock springing free, thick and throbbing.

Ava’s eyes widened at the sight, her mouth watering as she imagined how it would feel inside her as he rolled on a condom.

But Deacon had other plans. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, yanking her thong to the side and burying his face between her legs without warning.

Ava’s back arched off the bed as his tongue found her clitoris, licking and sucking with a skill that had her seeing stars. He drove her closer and closer to the edge. She grabbed fistfuls of the sheets, her moans growing louder and more desperate as he worked her over.

“Deacon, don’t stop,” she begged, her voice trembling with need.

He didn’t. He kept going until she was writhing beneath him, her thighs trembling as she came hard.

He stood up, his cock jutting out like a weapon, and climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

Ava reached for him, wrapping her hand around his shaft and giving it a few slow strokes, moving her thumb over the head .

“Please,” she whispered, her eyes dark with lust.

Deacon pushed inside in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

Ava cried out, her nails digging into his ass as he filled her completely.

He started slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, each thrust hitting her in just the right spot with unerring accuracy.

But soon, slow wasn’t enough. He picked up the pace, fucking her with a brutal intensity that had the headboard slamming against the wall.

Ava fisted her hands in his hair, and Deacon leaned down to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping until she was moaning.

Her body convulsed as she came again, as he continued to pound into her.

Deacon wasn’t far behind. With a few more thrusts, he buried himself deep inside her and came with a guttural groan.

He collapsed on top of her, both of them panting and covered in sweat.

But the night was far from over, and they were determined to make every second count.

After falling asleep, Ava felt Deacon move beside her.

The room was thick with the scent of sweat and lust, the air heavy with the promise of raw, unbridled sex.

Deacon’s hand slid under the sheets, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip, his touch demanding.

Her breath hitching as his palm cupped her ass, squeezing enough to make her moan softly into the darkness.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, dripping with need. “I need you again.”

Ava opened her eyes, her lips parting as his body pressed against hers.

She could already feel his cock, hard and throbbing, pressing into her thigh, begging for attention.

With a sly smile, she rolled on top of him, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath her fingertips.

He reached for his wallet to remove a condom and rolled it down over his cock. His hands gripped her waist as she sat up, straddling him, her thighs spreading wide to accommodate his thick, hard length. Ava reached down, her fingers wrapping around his cock. She sank down slowly, inch by inch.