While he showered, she finished making dinner. Prior to their break, she’d convinced Deacon to give her the diet he followed in the weeks leading up to a fight. Since the bout with Needham was in two and a half weeks, she knew he changed eating patterns today. She fixed ground turkey and brown rice, along with a spinach salad with non-starchy vegetables. Before bed he’d have a “dessert” shake—chocolate protein powder, almond milk, and low-glycemic fruit, like strawberries.

His clean scent reached her before he did. His bare arms encircled her, and he kissed the side of her neck. “Hey.”

“Hey. Feel better?”

“Seeing you barefoot in the kitchen, wearing those raggedy-ass sweatpants and this tiny tank top, reminds me that I’m a lucky bastard.”

“Aw. You say the sweetest things. Have a seat. Dinner’s almost done.”

Deacon rested his chin on her shoulder. “Babe. What’s all this?”

Molly turned and wreathed her arms around his neck. “Fight diet starts today, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So that’s what we’re eating. I followed the recipes exactly—no substitutions. Even the spices I used are sodium free.”

“You did that for me,” he stated tersely. “Without asking.”

Not the reaction she’d wanted. “Yes. Don’t be mad. I promise I didn’t add or change anything that would—”

“Stop talking.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You don’t get it. No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

“Deacon . . .”

“No one. And my woman”—he rested his forehead to hers and closed his eyes—“my hot, sexy, sweet woman was thinking of me. At the end of her long workday, she went to the store, tracked down all the weird shit I’m allowed to eat, and cooked it for me. Not only that, but she tried to make it taste decent. Fuck, Molly. Do you have any idea what that means to me?”

“I’m starting to,” she murmured.

“You amaze me. What you give me . . .” Deacon eased back to gaze into her eyes. “I love you. So fucking much.” Then his mouth was on hers, bestowing a kiss unlike any she’d ever been gifted with before. And it was a gift, the precious way Deacon made her feel.

So give him a gift in return. Tell him you love him too.

She would. Just not right now. She twisted out of his hold. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

After he’d sat at the eat-in counter, she set the food down in serving bowls rather than dishing it up. “That’s one thing I was unclear on. Serving sizes. But if you need a food scale, I have one around here someplace—”

“Babe. Sit. I’ve been doin’ this long enough I can eyeball my portions.”

“Okay. But I’ll probably have to put salt on mine. That’s one thing I can’t give up.”

Deacon frowned. “You don’t have to eat this just because I do.”

“I know. I just thought it’d be easier if we’re eating the same meal.”

He leaned over and kissed her hard.

Although Molly had tried to jazz it up, the food was still really bland. But that didn’t stop Deacon from eating two helpings of turkey and rice and three helpings of salad.

As soon as they finished, he rinsed the dishes and loaded her tiny dishwasher. A domestic Deacon was a sexy Deacon.

He turned and caught her watching him. “You keep looking at me like that and you’re gonna get fucked right here on the kitchen floor.”

“That would be fun. Maybe later. How long are you staying tonight?”

“I thought I’d stay over.” He yanked her against him. “Don’t like sleeping alone anymore.”

“You could always get a dog,” she teased.

“Wrong. I don’t like sleeping without you.”

Deacon’s need for constant physical contact between them was one of her favorite things about him. The fact he could now verbalize that need? Made her damn near giddy. “I’m happy you want a sleepover, but fair warning: I’m putting you to work first.”

“What kind of work?”

“Well, last week when I needed to do something to take my mind off you and I couldn’t quite make myself go check out the kickboxing programs at other gyms—”

“What? Why would you even think about doin’ that?”

“Because if we were broken up for good, it would’ve been too hard seeing you all the time. Black Arts is your place more than it was ever mine. I thought it’d be the easiest solution.”

“Nope. There’s a better one.” He got right in her face. “We’re never breaking up again—got it?”