“Thanks for giving away my secrets, Mom,” Deacon said good-naturedly.

“Pride goeth before a fall,” she replied.

Deacon merely rolled his eyes at her response. At the far end of the room, I noticed a pile of boxes along with some odds and ends.

“What’s all this?” I asked, motioning to an old stereo system with a turntable and a box of old records.

“That’s my old man’s vinyl collection. I didn’t know if you could use the stereo or not.”

“I don’t think so. Most of the music I’ll use with Willow is on my iPod.” I thumbed through some of the records. “Wow. There’re some great classics in here.”

“I didn’t peg you as an oldies fan,” Deacon mused.

“Oh, I grew up on the oldies. My parents used to clean house every Saturday with Motown blaring—the Temptations, the Four Tops, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas.” I smiled. “These bring back so many memories.”

Deacon took the album out of my hand and put it on the turntable. The familiar crack and pop of a record filled my ears before the unmistakable opening of “My Girl” came out of the speakers.

“You should teach Deacon to dance,” Beth suggested.

My brows rose in surprise. “You don’t know how to dance?”

He scowled at both his mother and me. “I’ve never had a reason to learn.”

Giving Deacon a pat on the back, Beth said, “Give it a try. They have daddy-daughter dinner dances at Willow’s school. Don’t they, Alexandra?”

“Yes, they do.”

“Just another reason not to put her back there,” Deacon replied.

Beth laughed. “I’m going to start dinner. Maybe by the time it’s done, you’ll have learned a few steps?”

While he didn’t say no, the glare on his face certainly wasn’t saying yes. As Beth started upstairs, I took a tentative step forward, holding out my arms. “Wanna try?”

“If I don’t, you’ll think I’m a fucking pussy, right?”

I laughed. “Maybe.”

With a grunt, he closed the distance between us. His arms started to slip around my waist. “We’re not slow dancing like a school dance. This is different.”

“How the fuck is it different?”

“Put one of your hands on my waist. Then put the other in my hand.” Once he did that, I smiled up at him. “Good job. Now you can either sway like this or do a box step.”

“I think I’d rather sway,” he replied, his hand tightening on my waist. Even beneath the fabric of my skirt, my skin felt inflamed by his simple touch. It was the first time we had been this close, touched this intimately, since the night we’d let our personal skeletons dance precariously around the room.

It wasn’t the first time a man had had his hands on me, but something about Deacon’s touch felt different. Nervousness, coupled with anticipation, tingled through my body. Although I had tried to ignore his magnetism before, there was no denying it now. While he was so incredibly good-looking, it was his strong, all-male presence that overwhelmed me. Good sense told me that a woman like me should never want to be in a room alone with a man like him, but I chose to ignore the voices of doubt in my head. Instead, I decided to just let myself feel.

As he stared down at me, the expression on his face changed. I swallowed hard at the intensity of the look burning in his eyes. I didn’t know how something so innocent had changed over to something so illicit. Since the night we’d shared a bed, everything had changed between us.

The crackling pop of the vinyl changed over to another song. As the sultry beat came out of the speakers, I immediately recognized it. Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man.” At that moment, there couldn’t have been a song better suited to us. I stood before a Preacher Man’s son, desperately wanting him to do some of the things in the song. Just the thought sent an ache spreading between my legs.

The only one who could ever reach me was the son of a preacher man.

Deacon’s eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help noticing the lustful gleam flickering bright in them. “Don’t look at me like that,” he growled.

“How am I looking at you?” I panted.

“Like you want to fuck me.”

The electricity in the air around us crackled and popped the same as the vinyl coming out of the stereo speakers. I knew I should turn and run away. I had a job to do with Willow, which didn’t include fucking her father. While I knew that being with Deacon would be an unforgettable experience, it was an emotional land mine that I didn’t think I could escape from unscathed. Everything within me screamed to pry myself from his tight embrace and run upstairs to the safe sanctuary of Beth’s kitchen.

Being good isn’t always easy. No matter how hard I try.

But as Deacon continued to stare at me like a predator would with its prey, I wanted nothing more than to be consumed. Without a word, Deacon’s thumb inched slowly over my bottom lip. Acting on its own volition, my tongue snaked out to flick against his skin. Deacon’s dark eyes flared before he ducked his head and crushed his lips to mine. The force took me off guard, and I staggered back. His strong arms caught me and dragged me closer to him. Just as I had imagined, he knew what he was doing when it came to kissing.

Deacon’s tongue plunged into my mouth as his fingers came to tangle through the strands of my hair. When he tugged them, I moaned into his mouth, enjoying the sting of pain. My hands slid up his back to grip the tops of his shoulders for dear life. His lips, along with the strength of his body and feel of his fingers, had the ability to liquefy my bones and muscles. At any moment, I expected to melt down his body and collapse into a puddle on the floor.

When he finally tore his mouth from mine, both of our chests heaved. He gazed down at me with hooded eyes. “What do you want from me, Alexandra?”

“I want you to fuck me.” Instantly, warmth flooded my cheeks. I’d never been this brazen or direct with a man before. Deacon’s domineering presence had the ability to bring out a part of me I didn’t know existed. Even if it ruined everything between us, everything for Willow, I still wanted him to consume me.

With a groan, he slid his hands down my back to cup my buttocks. Pressing me forward, he ground the hardened bulge in his jeans against me. I gasped at the friction the contact caused. “Please, Deacon.”

Bending me back, he kissed down my neck, his tongue swirling on my skin. I shivered.