The hiss of hydraulics and gentle bounce of the plane landing brought Harper around. She didn’t even remember falling asleep. She’d sat down next to Deacon, still revved from their little interlude at the Bishop holiday party job.

In fact she’d had definite plans to lure him into the bathroom for an official punch on her mile high club card. But she’d blinked out for the entire three hour ride.

“Hey there.”

Deacon looked down at her, his eyes soft and sweet as always. “You were out for the count, champ.”

“Yeah. I don’t even remember falling asleep.” She frowned and looked around at the passengers gathering their belongings. “I didn’t snore, did I?”

His eyes twinkled. “No, of course not.”

She hunched her shoulders. “Oh man, I did.”

He laughed. “Just a purr.”

“Ass.”

He leaned into her, his kiss gentle. “You’ve been running on four hours of sleep a night for weeks. I’m glad you got some sleep. I have plans for you, wife.”

She sighed at the way he said wife, the intent in his green eyes, and the light tease of his fingers coasting along her jaw—all things she’d missed so much lately. Her belly flipped as his hair fell forward curtaining out the world. The fresh scent she always associated with him replaced the stale cabin air in the little pocket he’d formed. “You do, huh?”

“All of them include no clothing.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “None.”

She let herself fall into him. No rushing, no quick kisses as they passed each other in the morning. Her getting up to work, him coming home from the studio. They had all the time in the world for each other. For a solid week, he was hers and she was his.

He broke away when he was bumped by another passenger. The flight attendant was barking out information about Houston, the airport, the weather. She sighed. “I guess we need to get out of here.”

“Looks like.” With one more kiss, he stood and grabbed their carry-ons from the overhead compartment. He filled the aisle, halting the forward progression of the people behind him to let her go first.

It really was nice to have her own personal fullback—or was it tight end? She peered up at him and he smiled down at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She looped her carryon bag over her neck and moved down the aisle. When his hand landed on her ass with a smack, she laughed and hastened her stride.

True to his word, Deacon had kept their wardrobe to a minimum. All they had to wear fit in his travel duffel. They were good at traveling light. She had Galveston and the beach to look forward to, clothing was definitely going to be optional.

She didn’t even get cranky as they shuffled down the ramp like cattle. And wonder of wonders the rental car gods were with them too. Deacon had them packed and on the road in no time.

Acres of lights swirled with on-ramps and off-ramps as they left the rental garage and followed signs to the highway. She held Deacon’s hand while lights whisked past her window. Her eyelids kept drooping, but she had an endless fascination with runways. She didn’t want to miss a moment in the symphony that only the tower could command. Once they hit the monotony of the highway, her eyelids won the battle.

She blinked awake feeling groggy and confused when Deacon smoothed her hair out of her face through the open door. God, she never slept this freaking much.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you let me sleep again.”

His face was in stark shadow from the night and the dome light of the car. All angles and amused half-smile. “I didn’t let you do anything, Lawless. You were out like a damn light.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve been working your tail off for weeks, babe. You needed the rest.”

“I know, but it’s our honeymoon.”

“Not like we could do anything in the car.”

She arched a brow.

He laughed and scooped her out of the seat. “We’ll save that for inside.”

She slipped her arm around his neck. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m all about the fun. Wait till you see inside.”

The first thing she noticed was the fresh, cool briny air. It dragged her back to her wedding day when the ocean and sun had greeted her with the most incredibly perfect day. Having Deacon standing there with the sun at his back was nothing compared to the smile he’d had been wearing the moment their eyes met. It felt like it had taken forever to get down the aisle to him.

If the scent of the ocean brought that memory back every single time, she was totally okay with that. She sniffed and pressed her nose into his neck.

“Hey, what’s this?”

“Just remembering a certain day.”

“It’s a good day, I hope?”

“The best.” She nuzzled against the beard that was filling in along his jaw. “November first.”

He turned his lips into hers. His kiss was as solid and strong and as intoxicating as it had been when he’d actually asked her marry him in front of her family and their friends.

She cupped his face with her free hand and tasted salt and Deacon there. She gave a watery laugh when he finally pulled back and his eyes were as misty as her own. “God, I love you, big guy.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and they shone even brighter in the dim light a moment later. “I never get tired of hearing that.”

She smoothed her thumb over his bearded cheek. The idea that this man didn’t know love before them continued to astound her. And now he was hers. As overwhelming as he could be sometimes, he was hers and she’d never change that. “Ready?”

He rounded the car, his long stride eating up the stone walkway dusted with sand. Solar lights led the way with their soft glow. He took the stairs slowly as if he knew she needed to take it all in. Wrought iron scroll work made up a small canopy at the door. Frosted white glass lit up with the same ethereal glow from the path made the old iron light seem otherworldly.

But it was the door that took her breath and made her curl into Deacon tighter. “Oh, wow.” Stained an intense and almost iridescent purple, it was a work of art. Made out of heavy wood and huge iron hinges, the door dominated the space, adding to the fairy cottage feel.

“Lila helped me find this place.”

“Lila is amazing.”

“And she knows it.”

Harper laughed. “Put me down. You need two hands to pull that bad boy open.”

“I texted the caretaker when we were close, and she came to open it up for us.” He hefted her higher, juggling a hand free for one of the large iron rings. “I’m carrying you over the damn threshold.”

Delighted, she held on as the twelve foot purple door creaked open. A fresh blast of salt air hit her first, followed by the roar of the tide. The back door was open and diaphanous sheers fluttered in the late night breeze.

It was a small place. The kind of cozy perfection created for honeymooners. A kitchenette filled one corner with gleaming butcher block countertops and dark wood cabinets with oiled brass antique fixtures. A simple pendant light let off a warm glow. Part of her ached to go check it out. She could never quite turn off the cooking side of her, but the huge canopy bed that dominated the main living space blinked out all thoughts of food.

More filmy sheers fell from each corner of the dark four poster structure. A half dozen pillows and a sinfully decadent duvet in frosty white teased them both closer.

“Whoa,” Deacon said as he let her slowly slide down to the floor.

She wandered past the bed, sliding her fingertips over the sateen luxury grade bedding. She could feel her husband at her back as if they were both drawn out the French doors. A beautiful pergola strung with white twinkle lights framed out the space, but also left a blanket of stars visible. It was cool, but not cold. A huge hammock swung gently in the breeze off the water.

Winter stark waves ate up the sand leaving a trail of seaweed and foam. It was endless, open and private as only the ocean could be.

Deacon’s arms came up and around her. One across her shoulders, the other loosely banded across her belly, enveloping her in his warmth. He rested his chin on the crown of her head and she felt the relaxing exhale of his breath.

“We needed this,” she said quietly as she smoothed a hand over his forearm.

He brushed his lips against her cheek before burrowing into her hair that had come out of her braid. He drew in deep, his exhale teasing her neck and shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d ever get you alone.”

The rumble of his voice made her shiver.

His touch was gentle as the endless tide. A hot trail of breath followed by unhurried lips. She rocked back against him, his solid strength made her feel safe and loved, and his growing hardness at her lower back brought out the urgency from earlier to the forefront.

How he always managed to bring both out at the same time shouldn’t surprise her anymore, but each kiss dragged her into the storm that was Deacon. Sometimes a shelter in her own stormy mind, and sometimes he was the cause of her turbulent emotions. Love, lust, and comfort tumbled around her chest in a never-ending cycle.

At the nip of his teeth along her jaw, she drew in a shuddering breath. Her nails dug into his forearm holding her tight as his other hand slid under her shirt to trace circles over her belly. Each slow touch seemed to have the opposite effect inside her. Her blood felt like it was racing through her veins. Everything felt too slow, too claustrophobic. She needed more.

Soft kisses and gentle touches were Deacon’s stock in trade and she loved him for it. Loved that he cherished her. But the other side of him was what she needed right now. The pounding surf reverberated in her chest like a double time beat. Heady, thrumming, and mind bending.

She laced her fingers over his and pushed his hand higher to cup her breast. The whisper of familiar callouses over her nipple tightened them to aching points. To have him here like this, no interruptions and no ticking clock should have eased her. Instead, a moan crashed out of her too full chest. She flipped up the cups of her bra and shirt. Struggling to get out of the restriction.

Deacon’s breath hitched and his touch went from quiet to firm. He cupped and plucked, his mouth busy along her neck where she loved him to suck and tease.

Still not enough.

She still needed more.

The air slipped over her too warm flesh and collided with Deacon’s hot hands.

“Yes.” She covered his hands again, holding him to her tighter. It felt like there were a million firing points under her skin and all of them were centered on her nipples. Her head slammed back on his chest as she arched.

The echoing groan rumbled through him and into her. She turned in his arms, grasping at his shoulders. The man was nothing if not in tune with her. He hoisted her up so she could wrap her legs around his hips.

Encouraged by the heavy erection tucked between them, she ground her hips against him. It was the best she could do with all these stupid clothes on. She locked her arms around his neck, her nails scraping up the back of his skull. Silky hair feathered through her fingers. Instead of the cool enjoyment she usually got, it felt like fire licking the backs of her hands.

Spurred on by the unquenchable thirst for him, she covered his mouth with hers. His fingers bit into her hips as the kiss went deep and penetrating. Exactly the way she wanted him.

Deep.

Inside her.

Filling her.

Deacon at his most primal. He seemed to understand that. There had been so little time for them lately. So little connection during the little bits of in between. Between jobs, between lyrics, between sessions, between fights with the band.

Between breathing.

Deacon was her air. When life bombarded and suffocated, just the touch of his warm skin brought balance. Sometimes it was the soft she needed and sometimes it was the desperate.

Right now, she was past desperation. She felt like every atom was vibrating apart.

The sheer curtains slid over her bare shoulder as he headed through the doors. Moonlight gilded his hair, his shoulders, leaving the rest of him in silhouette. Her knees dug into his ribs as he lifted her, his mouth finding her breast, his teeth scoring over her nipple before sucking it deep into the heat of his mouth.

They toppled to the bed and he raced down her chest to her belly, scoring his calloused fingertips over her skin to the stretchy pants she wore. He dragged them down, his open mouth finding the center of her unerringly.

She bowed up off the bed, crying out his name, every swear word she could think of, every oath as his tongue delved between her lips. As he hollowed her out with each drawing suck, followed by long thorough thrusts of his tongue. Pleasure drowned her, his passion fueled her. All of the screaming atoms vibrated and coiled throughout her body.

The fluid softness of the sheets at her back pulled her under as he splayed her open. She tried to crawl up the bed.

Too much.

She was going to fly apart.

Half on the bed, half off, he curled his arms under her thighs and laced his fingers over her belly. With his thumbs, he opened her too-swollen lips. Long fingers owned her body, strummed her, plucked her, soothed her even as he watched her with wild green eyes.

She tried to buck him off.

Too much.

The growl of the dark, dominant part of Deacon lived there at the edge of the bed, staring up at her. Thrilling, dangerous, life-affirming.

Always too much.

And never enough.

Her name was a guttural groan before he fused his mouth over her clit and sucked.

The air seemed to still and the room drifted away. There was only his eyes, his mouth, and the precipice that they both balanced on.

Mine.

Always mine.

Deacon.

Always Deacon.