compared to how I’m feeling right now. Not only is my heart pounding in my chest, but there’s also an intense ache between my legs. I want him so bad.
“Why not?” I demand.
I give him a chance to answer but, when he silently begs me with his eyes to be reasonable, I give him another command.
“Ask me what I wished for at my sixteenth birthday party.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
He runs his hands through his hair then over his face before finally giving in.
“What did you wish for at your sixteenth birthday party?”
I don’t hesitate. “You.”
His brows furrow and I hate that he’s struggling to understand. I thought I was so obvious even when I tried to hide my feelings. I guess I was better than I realized.
“I wished for you , Deacon. I want you . Tonight. Right now .”
His head falls back against his seat, and he closes his eyes. This is it. This is when he breaks my heart. I remind myself that I knew this was a possibility, and I refuse to cry in front of him.
His hands move from my butt to my hips, and he squeezes. When he opens his eyes and looks at me, I see resolution. And want.
“Fuck, Cami, I want you. I do, but—”
“No,” I stop him. “I’m not stupid, Deacon. I know you’re leaving tomorrow, and you can’t promise me anything. I don’t want you to. I just want to be with you.”
He slides me off his lap and opens his door. I watch as he steps out, opens the back door, grabs a blanket, and takes it to the bed of the truck. He quickly returns and slips his arms under me, picking me up, and carrying me to where he laid out the blanket. He climbs in after me and pulls the tailgate shut, blocking us from everything but the stars.
Deacon pulls his T-shirt up and over his head and tosses it aside. I watch every movement, unable to take my eyes off of him, feeling like this has to be a dream. If it is, I don’t want to wake up, ever. When he lays down beside me and begins to kiss me again, my hands grip his bare arms, needing to touch him, feel him, anchor myself to him, so I don’t float away.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, his breaths coming out in hot, heavy bursts.
“You keep asking me that. Why?”
“Because this is serious, Cami. I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“I told you this is what I want. I’m ready,” I promise him. And I am. I’ve never wanted anything more.
To show him how serious I am, I slowly remove my shirt and shorts, leaving my bra and panties on, and lay back down. That must be enough for him because he doesn’t waste any more time. He settles between my legs and kisses me again. I take advantage of my position and run my hands over his chest and back, feeling the strength in his muscles, the warmth of his skin.
Soon, we’re both completely naked, and he’s touching me, preparing me for what’s about to happen. I thought I’d be shy or embarrassed to have Deacon see me like this, to touch me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. This is the most intense—the most intimate experience—I’ve ever had, and Deacon is the only person I want to share it with.
He gives me one last glance, making sure I want to continue, before rolling the condom down his length. When I nod my head, he enters me, his eyes never leaving mine. He moves slowly, and I hold onto his shoulders as I feel the expected twinge of pain. I let out a deep breath as it subsides, relaxing when he reaches as far as he can.
The rest of the evening is spent kissing, touching, loving until we’re completely exhausted. Being like this with Deacon under our sky couldn’t have been more perfect, and I’ll never regret it.
We watch the sun begin to rise, wrapped up together in his blanket before we get dressed and he drives me home.
Careful not to wake my dad, he drives to the dirt road that leads to my house and leaves the truck there, walking me the rest of the way to my front porch. “I’ll be home in two weeks. I’ll see you
“Why not?” I demand.
I give him a chance to answer but, when he silently begs me with his eyes to be reasonable, I give him another command.
“Ask me what I wished for at my sixteenth birthday party.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
He runs his hands through his hair then over his face before finally giving in.
“What did you wish for at your sixteenth birthday party?”
I don’t hesitate. “You.”
His brows furrow and I hate that he’s struggling to understand. I thought I was so obvious even when I tried to hide my feelings. I guess I was better than I realized.
“I wished for you , Deacon. I want you . Tonight. Right now .”
His head falls back against his seat, and he closes his eyes. This is it. This is when he breaks my heart. I remind myself that I knew this was a possibility, and I refuse to cry in front of him.
His hands move from my butt to my hips, and he squeezes. When he opens his eyes and looks at me, I see resolution. And want.
“Fuck, Cami, I want you. I do, but—”
“No,” I stop him. “I’m not stupid, Deacon. I know you’re leaving tomorrow, and you can’t promise me anything. I don’t want you to. I just want to be with you.”
He slides me off his lap and opens his door. I watch as he steps out, opens the back door, grabs a blanket, and takes it to the bed of the truck. He quickly returns and slips his arms under me, picking me up, and carrying me to where he laid out the blanket. He climbs in after me and pulls the tailgate shut, blocking us from everything but the stars.
Deacon pulls his T-shirt up and over his head and tosses it aside. I watch every movement, unable to take my eyes off of him, feeling like this has to be a dream. If it is, I don’t want to wake up, ever. When he lays down beside me and begins to kiss me again, my hands grip his bare arms, needing to touch him, feel him, anchor myself to him, so I don’t float away.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, his breaths coming out in hot, heavy bursts.
“You keep asking me that. Why?”
“Because this is serious, Cami. I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“I told you this is what I want. I’m ready,” I promise him. And I am. I’ve never wanted anything more.
To show him how serious I am, I slowly remove my shirt and shorts, leaving my bra and panties on, and lay back down. That must be enough for him because he doesn’t waste any more time. He settles between my legs and kisses me again. I take advantage of my position and run my hands over his chest and back, feeling the strength in his muscles, the warmth of his skin.
Soon, we’re both completely naked, and he’s touching me, preparing me for what’s about to happen. I thought I’d be shy or embarrassed to have Deacon see me like this, to touch me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. This is the most intense—the most intimate experience—I’ve ever had, and Deacon is the only person I want to share it with.
He gives me one last glance, making sure I want to continue, before rolling the condom down his length. When I nod my head, he enters me, his eyes never leaving mine. He moves slowly, and I hold onto his shoulders as I feel the expected twinge of pain. I let out a deep breath as it subsides, relaxing when he reaches as far as he can.
The rest of the evening is spent kissing, touching, loving until we’re completely exhausted. Being like this with Deacon under our sky couldn’t have been more perfect, and I’ll never regret it.
We watch the sun begin to rise, wrapped up together in his blanket before we get dressed and he drives me home.
Careful not to wake my dad, he drives to the dirt road that leads to my house and leaves the truck there, walking me the rest of the way to my front porch. “I’ll be home in two weeks. I’ll see you
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