And on the outsides of her knees.

He must’ve looked appalled, because she twined her body around him.

“Know the places I don’t have marks?” She nuzzled his pecs. “Along the backs of my shoulders, the nape of my neck, and on my ass. Seems you’ve been lax in your promise to mark me everywhere, Deacon. So you’d better remedy that by bending me over and putting that mouth of yours to good use.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

“I thought you were chafed?”

“And I thought you didn’t care.”

Deacon was done for. He herded her into the bedroom and fell to his knees behind her to gift her with suck marks on each of her ass cheeks. Before she’d stopped wiggling that ass for more, he’d slapped it hard—and again she’d made those sexy fucking needy moans. He positioned her on all fours on the bed, caging her body beneath his, biting on the back of her neck until her pussy was thoroughly soaked. Then he’d impaled her. Fucking her nice and slow, bringing her to the edge three times before sending her soaring. Twice.

The crunch of tires on the gravel yanked him out of the memory. He glanced over to see a car pulling in and parking.

Tim exited from the driver’s side. “I tried to call, but no one answered.”

“We were . . . busy.”

“Before I come closer I should ask if you still plan on beating the fuck out of me.”

“Not unless you plan on putting your hands on her.”

“Nope.” Tim held out a beer. “Peace offering?”

“Sure.”

Tim plopped down beside him with a beer of his own, acting like he wanted to talk.

What the fuck? Deacon wasn’t a talking kind of guy. Maybe he should’ve just beaten on him.

“So you threaten every guy who looks at Molly?”

“Pretty much.”

“Women eat that stuff up, don’t they?”

Deacon looked at him with complete confusion. “Not Molly. She said it’d serve me right to choke on my own machismo.”

Tim laughed. “Sounds like her. Look, Molly and I go way back. It’s obvious that you care about her. I care about her too.”

He nearly crushed the beer bottle in his fist.

“But I don’t care about her in the same way you do.” Tim swigged his beer. “I’m not a threat to your relationship with her, Deacon.”

“You hugging her, kissing her, fucking touching her . . . I should ignore that shit?” He shook his head. “Not gonna fly with me, dude. I’ll always see that as a threat.”

“While I’m happy that my affection for her came across to you that way, I need to clarify why that was my intent.”

Fucking guy talked in circles. Why couldn’t he just say what he meant?

“I’m gay.”

Okay. No circles there. Deacon looked at him. “Pardon?”

“I’m gay. Molly has known that since seventh grade, when I figured it out. No one else knows. At least not in this ass-backward town.”

“Your parents don’t know?”

Tim shook his head. “My folks are good people who live by the good book. They’re happy. Coming out to them would serve no purpose. It’s not because I’m ashamed. It’s not like I lie to them. We simply don’t talk about it, because we don’t talk about anything real. From the time I realized girl parts didn’t interest me like boy parts did, I knew I’d leave here and never come back.”

While Deacon should’ve been relieved, he wasn’t. He was pissed. Maybe more so than before. “So you’re just another person in her life who uses her? Who doesn’t give a damn about her beyond what she can do for you? That’s bullshit.”

“You’re right. It is.”

“You’re just like her cousins.”

Tim scowled. “No, I’m not. I came here because I assumed no one would have Molly’s back and she’d be dealing with those nasty bitches alone.” He sent Deacon a sideways glance. “I’m happy to be wrong about that.”

“That’s the only reason you’re here?”

“No.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m a selfish prick, okay? This was also an excuse to come home and not to have to stay longer than two days.”

“That is fucked-up.” Deacon sipped his beer. “And I oughta know because I’ve done the same thing with my family.”

Tim laughed. “So I came by tonight to make sure she was all right with you.”

“I’ll knock your face in the dirt if you think I’d ever raise a fucking hand to her,” he snarled.