Free Dancing With the Devil by Laura Drewry Page B

explain. All she knew was that it went far deeper than anything physical.
    Unlike most of the men in town, her brother included, Deacon let her be who she wanted to be. He didn’t try to control her, he didn’t try to silence her when she had something to say and he didn’t condescend to her.
    He treated her with a surprising amount of respect given who he was, and that was perhaps what made her love him even more.
    Yes, she loved him, devil and all, and she’d been so sure he loved her too, especially that last night. That last night…
    Rhea slumped over the table, burying her face in the crook of her elbow. She’d been ready to give herself to Deacon, to give him everything he wanted and to take everything she wanted, but he’d walked away, leaving her alone, confused and humiliated. If that wasn’t enough,he’d taken himself straight to the cursed saloon and into Salma’s willing arms.
    Rhea sucked in a sharp breath. How could it still hurt so much after all this time? After all that time spent trying to hate him…and she’d come so close to succeeding, too. If only he hadn’t shown up on her front porch, smiling that crooked smile and whispering kisses over her skin like butterfly wings.
    It didn’t matter. Kisses aside, there was only one thing that mattered.
    Survival.
    If she wasn’t careful—very, very careful—she would never survive the heartbreak he was sure as sin going to leave behind him again.

C HAPTER F IVE
    M inutes ticked by. Deacon thought it was probably good that Rhea hadn’t come upstairs straight away because he would have been hard pressed to keep his hands to himself.
    But the longer she stayed away, the more difficult it became to think of anything—or anyone—else. Sweet little Rhea.
    What the hell was he going to do about her?
    Maybe he’d been wrong to come back; maybe he should have just left well enough alone. He’d never done something like this before, something to ease another soul’s pain. And if he’d known it was going to be this difficult, he might have saved himself the trouble.
    The plan had started out so simple: He’d come back, tell Rhea the truth about Salma, she’d see the reasoning behind his lie and stop hurting, and then he’d leave again. What could be easier?
    He stood in front of the mirror, his hands gripping the small round table as he leaned closer.
    “You’re not supposed to still be here,” he muttered to himself. “In and out—that was the plan.”
    He blinked back at his reflection and sighed. Stubborn cuss of a woman hadn’t let him explain anything!Instead, his mouth had been otherwise occupied with kissing her. And more than that, she’d kissed him back.
    Deacon’s throat burned raw. He wanted to stand next to her, to watch the passion build in those amazing eyes of hers and to be the one who took her so far past that passion she’d never see straight again.
    He wanted to hear her breath hitch when he touched her, to make her sigh when he kissed below her ear and to somehow, despite everything, make her laugh again.
    It might be selfish, but that was who he was, and there was no denying it. He wanted Rhea more than he’d ever wanted anything in his long miserable life. And no matter how much his father tried to lash it out of him, he’d always want her.
    Deacon’s throat burned hotter, his scars prickled tighter than ever. If there was any chance he could give her what she wanted…
    He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and spun away from his reflection. Of course he could give her what she wanted. It was simply a matter of repairing her heart so she could go off and fall in love with someone else. A human husband, one who could give her a home and lots of little human children. Somehow, he’d have to help her find that—even if it meant an eternity of misery for himself.
    Deacon stretched out on the cot, staring up at the ceiling. It was a wonder humans did any good deeds at all, if this was how it left people