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Her fingers clutched at the bedspread, crumpling it. She was so close, so close. Every touch of his tongue and hands moved her a fraction closer to the edge. Deacon slipped one finger inside her, and Lisa cried out again overcome with sensation.

  "I want you," she told him.

  He pressed one last kiss to her and slid up her body to meet her mouth with his. She felt him again on her stomach, and this time there was nothing between them. Nothing to keep the sensation of his hot, silky erection from the softness of her belly.

  She slipped her knee between his, pressing their bodies even closer. Without the direct pressure of his mouth on her, the proximity of her orgasm had ebbed enough that she didn't feel so dangerously close. It was her turn to do a little torturing. Swiftly, Lisa pushed Deacon onto his back.

  "Hey, I like this," he said.

  "Shh," she said. "It gets better."

  She didn't waste time teasing him too much. She was too eager to hear him moan and feel him squirm beneath her. She did take the time to cup his weight in her palm before sliding her mouth along his length.

  Deacon rewarded her instantly with a groan. The sound of it sent a bolt of fire directly between her thighs. Lisa closed her lips around him again drawing forth a muffled curse this time. She laughed silently, shoulders shaking.

  It felt good to laugh even while her body sang with desire. It was good to be so comfortable with him. She'd never felt this way with anyone. Nakedness had always brought shyness. Lovemaking had brought uncertainty. What seemed all right in the dark made meeting her lover's eyes in the light of day awkward.

  Tomorrow she would not have trouble looking at Deacon. In fact, the only regret she had was that they'd been unable to wait to get to her house, so she would not wake up in his arms.

  "We'll just have to go over there and do this again," she said, finishing her thought out loud.

  "What?" Deacon's voice was slurred, but he tilted his head to look at her. "What did you say?"

  "I want to wake up in your arms tomorrow," Lisa said, crawling up next to him and nestling into his arms. "I want to finish making love to you and fall asleep with you."

  He didn't say anything. Lisa didn't look at him, suddenly nervous that she'd gone too far...said too much. She fought the awkwardness threatening to creep in.

  Don't think! Don't think too much!

  But her fears were groundless. Deacon pulled her tighter against him and kissed her hair. "Me, too. But we can't do that here. Sorry. Mom would probably keel over."

  "So, we'll have to go back to my place and do this all over again," Lisa said.

  "Lisa," Deacon said sternly. "What do you think I'm made of? Let's just get through this once okay?"

  "I'm sure--" Lisa said as she grasped his erection and squeezed gently. "--that you'll be able to rise to the occasion."

  His groan was not of pleasure this time. Lisa poked him. He poked her back, but gently, then pulled her on top of him and wrapped his arms around her.

  Slowly, softly, they kissed, their passion ebbing and flowing in a rhythm all its own. They turned to their sides, shifting on the bed and sliding arms and legs around each other. It seemed impossible to get close enough.

  "Deacon," Lisa sighed, holding him tightly. "I've never felt like this before."

  "I have," he said.

  His unexpected answer threw her and she pulled out of his embrace. "What?"

  He grinned. "With you. Before. I felt like this all the time."

  He took her hand and drew it back to his length. "Just like this. It made riding the bike difficult."

  She poked him again, then kissed him. "I'm sure it did."

  They kissed some more, rolling on the bed without caring which way they went or why. Pillows went flying and the bedspread crumpled. Deacon konked his head on the headboard, and when Lisa laughed, he began to tickle her mercilessly.

  She'd never been tickled naked before and she thought she'd hate it. In her aroused state, though, even this normally annoying touch set her nerves tingling as he stroked her back and forth along the belly. When he bent to blow raspberries against her stomach, though, Lisa had to cry out for him to stop.

  "Enough," she cried, wiping away tears of laughter. "Isn't your mom going to be home soon?"

  Deacon looked at the clock. "I don't want this to be over."

  She became serious. "Neither do I."

  The mood, which had gone from sultry to silly and back again, deepened once more into sensuality. Gently, softly, Deacon pressed Lisa to the bed and covered her body with his. Their mouths joined, opening and closing in perfect time. His hands drifted through her hair, and she let hers run along his back.

  "Let's not wait any more," she said. "I want you, Deacon."

  He reached for the foil packet on the nightstand, but pushed it too far with his fingers. It fell off the stand and behind the bed. With a defeated groan, Deacon buried his head against her shoulder.

  "I'll get it," she said, kissing his ear. "Butter fingers."

  He moved aside to let her roll over. Lisa hung her head over the edge of the bed, searching for the glint of silver in the dim light. Deacon's touch, drifting lightly along her buttocks, was a pleasant distraction.

  Lisa wiggled further to the edge, hanging her head down more to see beneath the bed. There it was, the oblong packet glimmering seductively among the dust bunnies. She hooked it with her finger, pulling it into her palm just as something else caught her eye.

  "Oh, my God," she said, stunned.

  "Something wrong?"

  Lisa pushed forcefully away from him, sliding down onto the floor. With one hand she reached beneath the bed again, dragging out what had so shocked her. It was her purse.

  "No," Deacon said. "Lisa--"

  "Don't you talk to me." She took the bag and flung it onto the bed. Tears sparked her eyes. She simply could not believe it.

  "Lisa, it's not--" He reached for her hand, tugging it.

  "Shut up!" She didn't care if the entire world heard her. She yanked her hand away and slapped his cheek to get free. Through tear-blurred vision, she scrambled for her clothes, pulling on her shirt and panties without bothering to find her bra. "Just shut up!"

  She fumbled into her skort and managed to find her sandals. The bag she snatched up from the bed. Lisa felt as though she might just fall.

  Deacon did not move except to sit on the edge of the bed. His face had grayed with shock, but Lisa did not want to hear him speak. That she'd been about to let him make love to her suddenly made her nauseous.

  "Don't tell me it wasn't you," she said. "Because this time I know you're lying!"

  He said nothing, as if he could tell there'd be no convincing her. Lisa fairly ran to the door, pausing only long enough at the top of the stairs to be sure she wasn't going to tumble down them headfirst and break her neck. At the bottom, she flung open the front door and ran out into the night, clutching the stolen purse to her chest like it was a wounded bird.

  Chapter 13

  * * *

  Lisa ran and ran, the stitch in her side like a knife stabbing her. Through the dark streets, past the statue of the Holy Virgin in somebody's yard, her hands raised in eternal supplication. Ahead of her was the police station, a single light burning above the door.

  She paused long enough to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes. There'd be no help for her tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes. Lisa scrubbed at them briefly, knowing she still looked a mess.

  She climbed the stairs, her sandals clanging on the metal. The building still smelled new, like paint. The scent tickled her nostrils and she wanted to choke.

  She pushed open the door on the second floor and faced the empty desk. Behind the glass panel she could see a chair and some filing cabinets. It looked a lot like the ticket window at a movie theater except there was no tantalizing smell of popcorn to tempt her. The sign pasted on the glass informed her that if the desk was empty, she should ring the buzzer.

  She did, shifting from one foot to th