But I never told Connor who was responsible despite him badgering me. A week later, they were deployed overseas.
I never saw Connor again.
“You were sixteen,” Deck said. “And I shouldn’t have wanted you, but fuck …” I jerked my gaze to him. He wanted me? The quiet, spindly girl who was afraid of her own shadow? “Connor saw it, too. There was just something about you … so stubborn … determined to be strong. Yet, vulnerable and fuck, babe … so goddamn beautiful.”
He thought I was beautiful. “I wasn’t stubborn or determined.”
“Yeah, baby. You were.”
I stiffened. “I wasn’t.” I was a wimp. I was tortured for months and never did anything about it.
“You were.”
“I wasn’t, damn it.”
“You done arguing?” He glanced at me over his shoulder, his tatted arm flexed and tense as he held the frying pan.
“Yeah.” I was feeling shaky and uncertain … no, it was way more than that. I was totally fucked up because Deck had wanted me back then. “You never saw me like a kid sister?”
Deck snorted. “Fuck no. Jesus, babe. I just fuckin’ kissed you.”
“I know, but back then—”
“No. Never. Now, go set the table.”
I stared at his back, his shoulder muscles flexing as he stirred the vegetables, the ink on his arm catching the sun’s sinking rays through the large bay windows above the sink. I knew each one of the tatts. Over the years, he’d extended the tribal design from his elbow up to the side of his neck. I felt heat rise on my cheeks as I thought about my fingertips sliding over the contours of his arms, tracing each then kissing the side of his neck where—
“Georgie.”
I jerked my gaze from his neck up to his eyes. Shit, his eyes were narrowed and lips tight and Jesus, it was as if he had the reflection of fireworks blazing in his pupils. My heart sped up and my chest rose with every ragged breath.
He was looking at me as if he’d devour me, and it turned me on so goddamn much the moisture between my legs became wet and shivers became trembles.
“Table.” It was one abrupt word, and yet it vibrated through me as if he’d just made me come with the flick of his finger.
I swallowed. Then I stood on my quivering legs and got my shit together because being undone by Deck was dangerous. “Yes, sir.” I saluted and winked at him, trying my best to hide everything I was feeling with my usual sass. He scowled and turned back to the stove.
I set the table while Deck finished cooking. When I was done, I watched him from the other room and it didn’t help me any when the image of him naked wearing a white apron came to mind. Then he turned, caught me staring, and I felt the heat in my cheeks. Shit, he was throwing me off-balance with everything he was doing.
He came toward me with a plate of steaming pasta, eyes locked on me.
I licked my dry lips and his gaze followed the action of my tongue as he set the plate down on the table between us. I knew I couldn’t be wrong in that Deck wanted me right now.
“Mmm, looks delicious.” I leaned over the table to peer at the pasta. “I didn’t know you could cook, sweetpea.”
Deck’s eyes went from my breasts that, despite the too-big t-shirt, were accentuated with the way I was leaning and because I was turned on. I knew my nipples were showing because I didn’t put on a bra.
He scooped a large amount of pasta onto my plate, way more than I could ever eat. “Because you don’t. Just like I obviously don’t know you.”
Fuck. I had to steer this away from me. I sat back in my chair, crossing my arms. “And that’s whose fault? You’ve never told me anything about yourself.” I had stopped asking about his family a long time ago.
“Nothing to tell.”
“And I do know what type of person you are. That’s all that really matters anyway.”
Deck snorted and shook his head while he filled his plate.
I said quietly, “I do know you, Deck. I know you like control. That you can’t stand to be in a situation where you don’t have it. I know you organize your shirts in your closet by color. That everything has to be in order. That you have a maid come clean your place once a week and she’s here illegally and you overpay her so she can feed her family.” That little tidbit I’d had to dig for because Deck kept that real quiet. She didn’t even have a routine as to when she came—completely unpredictable.
Deck picked up his fork and spoon and began twirling his pasta as if he wasn’t hearing a word I was saying. “How I keep my clothes and pay my maid is not knowing me.”
“You protect me because you won’t break your word to my brother. You always tell the truth and your men are like your family and you’d give your life for them.”
The clang of his fork hit his plate as he dropped it. “If you want to go there, we can. I was giving you time to get your shit together, but we can do this right now.”
I put my head down and started eating my pasta. He hadn’t been giving me time. He had a method to getting answers. Shit, he tortured men for answers or he watched as Vic did it and from what I heard, he never failed.
“That’s what I thought.”
I glanced up from the corner of my eye and saw him pick his fork back up, twirl a forkful of pasta then drop it again and shove his plate away. He got up so abruptly his chair fell over, and then he strode to the sliding glass door, yanked it open and walked out onto the large terrace.