Take It On The Run

Chapter 11

POV: Sloan

I grinned as I felt someone lift the duvet and slide into bed behind me. A moment later, a thick pair of arms banded around my middle, a massive body spooning my own.

I recognized who it was before he even opened his mouth.

"Morning, beautiful," Deacon whispered, tangling his long legs with mine. At 6'7 and ripped like a professional bodybuilder, he was the largest of the foursome, looking more like The Blushing Rose's bouncer than its owner.

I released a soft sigh, stretching against his brawny frame. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so light or carefree, so safe.

The deep laugh that skittered along the nape of my neck gave rise to goosebumps. "I might have to thank Avery for putting that smile on your face when I see him again."

I stiffened, some of the grogginess abruptly dissipating. "Did you...?" I trailed off, unsure of what to say. I'd been too caught up in my arousal last night to spare a moment of consideration for what the guys might overhear.

"The walls here are rather thin," he confessed wryly, sounding more amused than anything else. Before I had time to blush or scour my mind for an apology, he added, "Please don't feel self-conscious about it, Sloan. No one is mad at you for enjoying yourself."

I relaxed a bit at that. This dynamic with the guys was still foreign to me, and we hadn't had a chance to discuss it as a group. Maybe we didn't need to, but I wanted to. I needed to know that I wasn't hurting anyone's feelings or creating bad blood between the guys.

"What time is it?" I probed, searching beneath my pillow for my phone. Despite Deacon's greeting, there was far too much sunlight flooding the room for it to be morning.

"One in the afternoon."

My eyes bulged as I turned my head to look at him. "Didn't you say my shift starts at 2 p.m.?"

An hour to put on makeup, change, find parking in the French Quarter, and open the bar was cutting it pretty close.

"I have a feeling your boss will be lenient if you're a little late today." He smirked, kissing the tip of my nose. I noticed then that he was shirtless, clad only in a pair of tight, black jeans. God almighty, the man was rocking a 20-pack. Even his muscles had muscles. "I would have woken you sooner, but you looked like you hadn't slept that hard in a long while."

I chuckled. "Did I snore or drool this time?" My ungraceful sleeping habits were something he teased me about mercilessly when we were kids.

"Both." His gaze dipped to my mouth. "It was pretty goddamn adorable, actually."

I snorted and faced away once more to hide the big, dumb smile spreading across my face. "Where's Misha?"

The cumulative events of the previous evening had been such a deviation from my normal routine that I'd completely forgotten about my fur baby.

"I took him on a run this morning. He's pretty worn out. As soon as we got back, he passed out on the couch downstairs."

My heart squeezed at that.

Most people didn't like animals on their furniture, and the few individuals I'd let watch Misha made it feel like an inconvenience of the highest order. Not that I could blame them for that. Between his size, anxiety, and high energy, he was a lot to deal with most days.

But Deacon had stepped in and treated Misha like he was his own—all without complaint.

"Where did he sleep last night?" I asked. Surely, Deacon hadn't gone so far as to let Misha into his bed. The image of those two large bodies wrestling through the night, fighting over mattress space and covers made me want to laugh.

"With me. I figured you could use a break from babysitting, and based on the sounds you were making, I didn't think Avery would appreciate me letting him into your room at the time."

He said it with such casual warmth that I knew he was telling the truth. He really wasn't threatened by the time I'd spent with Avery. If anything, he seemed happy for me. He'd even taken it upon himself to watch my dog, and he must've done a phenomenal job at it because Misha never let me have two seconds to myself if he knew I was home.

My words warbled slightly. "Thanks for doing that, D. That was really considerate of you."

He huffed a laugh. "Don't thank me. I never would've let him sleep with me had I known what a noisy cover hog he was. Turns out, he snores just as loudly as his mother."

"Hey, take that back!" I tried to twist around in his embrace to chastise him, but he caught me easily, tickling my sides. My shriek devolved into a fit of laughter, my body jerking wildly.

Deacon's lips caught mine without warning, and he swallowed my startled gasp.

Although I was still naked as the day I was born, he didn't try to take advantage of it as his hands delved into my hair, holding me in place. This kiss wasn't frenzied or desperate like the one we shared last night. It felt more exploratory, as though he were trying to learn what I wanted and urging me to do the same.

It was difficult to wrap my mind around the duality of this man—a man who appeared so physically intimidating yet possessed so much heartbreaking gentleness that it made my chest tighten when I thought about it. It was as if he were constantly aware of his strength and size and keeping it in check for my benefit.

I moaned, brushing his tongue with my own. Still, his hands stayed dutifully in my hair, massaging my scalp. His restraint was downright impressive. Even when my arms looped around his back and my nails dug into his bare flesh, the most he did was shift more of his weight onto me.

I'm not sure how long we lay there kissing before he finally pulled away.

His low voice sounded like gravel as he said, "As much as I want to continue this, sweetness, there's a convention in town, and we still have to set up before opening."

"That's a shame," I murmured, running my hand over the dark stubble lining his cheek and sharp jawline.

"It really is." Something like longing glimmered in those cobalt eyes as he sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. "Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes—twenty at the latest. I mean it, Sloan. I know it's been a while, but I haven't forgotten that you move about as fast as an old man with two fractured feet."

I rolled my eyes. "I think I can manage that, D." It was annoying how well he still knew me after all this time.

Deacon cleared his throat as he reached into the front of his jeans and readjusted his raging hard-on. The move wasn't intentionally suggestive, but I could see everything through the tight, fitted pants. His heated gaze found and held mine as he reached for the doorknob. "Fair warning: If I have to come back up here to get you, we're going to be very, very late for work, and I can't guarantee you'll be able to walk, let alone work, afterward."

I swallowed, eyes lingering on that impressive length. I had no doubt he was telling the truth about that last part. I'd never had to accommodate someone so...substantial before, and I wasn't sure he'd even fit. I certainly wasn't above attempting it, though.

Before I could say something equally snarky and sultry, he fled the room, leaving me to get ready for my first day of work.