“That’s the second thing.” Those blue eyes shone in the dark. “I didn’t know how to ask. And before you laugh or get sarcastic, you should know that I don’t date.”

“Ever?”

“Ever. I haven’t asked a girl—woman—out since I was fifteen.” Deacon watched his finger twirling that section of hair. “I haven’t had a girlfriend since high school, Molly. I’ve been with women, but never for more than sex, and never for more than one night.”

Molly could’ve asked him why, but she suspected he’d hedge. She slanted her mouth over his for a smacking kiss. “So I’m special? Awesome. I am so glad you figured out a way to tell me we were going out. Because, babe, you didn’t ask.” She smooched him again. “Even if it did take you for-freakin’-ever.”

His sheepish smile . . . just got to her.

“So the long answer to your ‘sleep naked’ question is yes. I’ll crash in the raw if you’ll tone down your seductive mojo and let us both actually get some sleep.”

“I’ll try, but no guarantees.” He planted kisses in random spots across her chest. “So the long answer to your ‘girlfriend touching’ question is no. You’re the first and only. Fair warning, babe. If you’re nearby, I’m gonna be touching you.”

“I can deal with that.”

He tucked her body in to his so they touched head to toe.

Normally Molly did a starfish imitation on her mattress, but she much preferred being skin to skin with a hard-bodied man.

She’d drifted into that floaty pre-sleep place when Deacon murmured, “You sure you’re tired?”

“You’re not?”

“I’m wide-awake.”

“Do you want to watch TV or something?”

She felt him grin against the top of her head. “I was thinking you could read me a bedtime story.”

That yanked her out of her sleepy state. Self-professed nonreader Deacon wanted her to read to him because he was interested in the story? Not just because he’d been bored during the drive?

How freakin’ awesome. She’d always envied couples who read together. As far as she was concerned, reading to him counted.

“Well, we did leave Colin and Caitlin hanging.” She threw back the covers. “I’ll grab my e-reader.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DEACON walked into the training room on Saturday morning ready to do battle.

Maddox went back to working with Ivan after pointing to the jump ropes.

So that’s how it’s gonna be.

He warmed up first with a few stretches, push-ups, pull-ups, frogs, and gator rolls. Then he snagged a jump rope and hit it.

Most of the time when Deacon was training he could block out everything and focus on form. But today his thoughts kept straying to Micah Courey. If he’d been training here all week. If Ronin had made a decision on adding him to the roster. If any of this training mattered. If he’d ever get past being a contender to being a champion.

The years he’d spent in the underground fighting scene, the unrecognized championships hadn’t made him complacent. He’d always wanted more. Ronin had recognized that from the first time they’d met.

That’d been an eye-opener. Deacon had been undefeated for two years. He’d craved a challenge to the point he’d started to travel to other cities to fight. He hadn’t found a worthy opponent in Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Tulsa, or Oklahoma City. But when he showed up in Pueblo, Colorado, that’s where he’d learned the difference—the hard way—of fighting a true master.

Of course¸ at the time—five years ago—he hadn’t known Ronin Black held a seventh-degree black belt in jujitsu—a black belt designation was the only requirement to fight. As Deacon had climbed into the ring, he’d been less than impressed by this Ronin guy. Although they were in the same weight class, Ronin wasn’t bulked up—his physique ran more toward lean. That right there should’ve set off Deacon’s warning bells. But he’d dismissed it.

Mistake.

Big mistake.

Ronin had toyed with him the first two rounds. Testing him. He’d even let Deacon get in a couple of body shots with both his kicks and his fists.

But when the third round started, Ronin brutalized him for an eternity—he’d later learned it’d been only two minutes—before he knocked him out.

When Deacon had come to, his fury had overtaken his embarrassment. And that fury hadn’t lessened when Ronin had stuck around to talk to him after the match. Ronin’s Zen-like attitude and watchful eyes seemed to bore into Deacon’s soul. That put him on edge and pissed him the fuck off. He’d been a total dick to Ronin. Why the man had stuck around still boggled Deacon’s mind.