A/N: Thanks for being so patient, and a special thank you to WishfulThinker66, FaithOriginal, TheIrishShipperholic, and Guest for the lovely reviews. Your support means everything! (And thanks for the comment about Luca! He's my favorite character to write!) I'm sorry this update took so long. We're remodeling our living room so my computer was collecting dust while I worked on that. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait!

Enjoy! ;)

Deacon rolled down his window. She walked over and dipped her head to talk to him.

"What's up?" she asked.

He laughed without humor. "Reagan…why you'd bring me back to your place? I'm your boss. You know this is inappropriate."

Reagan glanced around at the empty streets, her expression less than impressed. "You're making this sound way dirtier than I meant for it to be. You don't even have to come inside. I just thought we could walk on the beach and talk."

"Oh."

"Yeah…"

He shut off his car and got out. "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed the worst."

"It's okay. I knew it would look bad. That's why I didn't tell you where we were going," Reagan said, smiling. She gestured for him to follow and they walked around to the back of the house. She took off her flip flops and set them on the deck. Deacon did the same with his socks and shoes.

The beach was dark, but a few houses allowed pockets of light, along with the glowing boardwalk in the distance. But because of the late hour, there wasn't a soul in sight.

"So you wanted to talk," she said as they began to stride through the cool sand.

"I think we need to clear up a couple things."

"I was under the impression we did that at your place the other night."

"Kinda. If anything, though, it just complicated everything," he said.

"Well that's the truth," she mumbled, stopping at the water's edge.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"I don't know if I should agree or take that as an insult. I didn't mean for it to happen either, but it did, and I don't regret it."

Deacon crossed his arms and turned to look at her instead of the dark waves. "You're really good at what you do, Reagan. I respect you, in every way. The last thing I want to do is hurt your reputation and everything you've worked so hard for. I know there's a double-standard for women when it comes to sleeping with someone in the workplace. And if we were simply on the same team, that would be one thing. But you report to me. How are we supposed to uphold the law if we can't even follow our own department's rules?"

"I understand where you're coming from. Really, I do. But I'm a temp on your team. This isn't a long-term arrangement. Why should we compromise our feelings and the chance at something that would better our lives outside of work?"

He frowned. "Are you sure it would be for the better?"

She sighed. "Again, I don't know if I should take that as an insult."

"I'm sorry, Reagan, that's not how I meant it. What I'm trying to say is that a romance could cloud our judgement out on the job. I saw a hint of that with Street the other day."

"That's not what happened at all, and I wish you would stop bringing it up."

Deacon's expression hardened. "I only know what I saw. He didn't have your back—"

"But I had his! Sometimes it won't go both ways. We're human, Deke. We fuck up. We're not perfect."

"I think you're pretty close to it," he said suddenly, his dark eyes locked on her.

Reagan's skin flared with heat—not just with lust, but with anger. "Don't say shit like that right now. Not when you just stood there, justifying why we can't be together. I don't appreciate mind games, Deacon."

"I haven't been playing mind games with you..."

"Seriously? What about earlier, the whole golfing thing? Would you have done that with Chris?"

Deacon remained quiet. He knew he'd been caught.

"Maybe I shouldn't be on your team."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"Because you can't expect me to work next to you, day-after-day, and not think about how good it would feel to have your lips on mine..."

God, she wished she had a camera in that moment, because the shocked look on Deacon's face was priceless.

Her voice grew husky as she continued on to say, "To feel your bare skin against mine."

She watched his eyes darken as the muscles in his jaw moved convulsively. He looked downright tortured. Someone so calm and composed on a regular basis...

She wanted to break him.

"To wonder how it would feel to completely be one with you," she whispered, knowing that was all it would take.

Deacon closed the space between them, his lips crashing down, kissing her like his life depended on it. Reagan held his face, thinking that he might try to pull away, but somehow knew he wouldn't. He wasn't a halfway kind of guy. He fully committed to everything he did, and she knew they wouldn't stop when they got to the heavy petting this time.

Reagan leaned into Deacon as his hands slipped under the back of her t-shirt. He caressed her warm skin, enjoying the smoothness under his fingertips. He'd thought about this moment too many times. He'd always told himself that it wasn't appropriate, that he was being pervy, but he was a man—and Reagan was a beautiful woman. She pulled him to her like there was an invisible elastic between them. As much as he tried to deny her, she just kept snapping him back.

They started to move toward the house, but his heel caught on a mound of sand and he fell backward, Reagan tumbling on top of him. She laughed against his mouth, but he kept kissing her, needing her like he needed oxygen in his lungs. He whipped off her shirt with lightning speed, and then grasped her backside, grinding their hips together.

Reagan pushed up his shirt, exposing enough of his abdomen so that she could take a moment to run her lips over the muscles there. Deacon's breaths rushed in and out as he watched her in the dim lighting.

Suddenly, a catcall from nearby made them freeze in place. They spotted the shadows of a few people walking where they had just been down by the water.

"We should probably take this inside," he said.

"Yeah, or else we'll have to arrest ourselves for indecent exposure," she quipped with a wink.

Reagan offered Deacon her hand, helping him up out of the sand. She grabbed her shirt and they rushed onto the deck, where he watched her fumble with her keys.

"Do you need help?" he asked, his chest now rising and falling with anticipation.

Her hands shook, but she managed to sink the key into the slot with ease.

The double entendre wasn't lost on him.

Reagan's house was dark, but she didn't move to turn on any lights. She tripped over something, but simply kicked it out of the way. She took his hand and guided him through the obstacles until they reached her bedroom. Soft moonlight streamed in through the window, which he was thankful for, because he wanted to see her. He took in the sight of her full-size bed, the teal coverlet neatly tucked in and pulled up to four plush pillows.

Reagan must have seen him eyeing it—an immaculate bed in a messy room—because she said, "I read that book by that Navy admiral. The one that talks about making your bed every day…"

"Me too," he said as he tugged her gently toward him

"It was good," she whispered against his lips.

"Mhmm," he said in agreement, again mesmerized by her kiss. He'd already forgotten what they were talking about.

Reagan helped Deacon with his shirt, their lips only parting for that one necessary second as she removed it over his head. He returned the favor, unzipping the front of her sports bra and letting it fall to the floor. He pulled her closer then, her bare skin sliding against his, and he knew this was heaven. It was everything she'd talked about on the beach. He couldn't fault her for wanting those things—because he wanted them too.

He backed Reagan up toward the bed, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist as he came down over her. He threaded their fingers together above her head and pinned her in place, kissing up her neck to behind her ear.

"Try getting out of it this time," he murmured against the fragile shell.

Deacon missed her smile as she bucked her body upward, breaking his hold long enough to twist his arm around and roll until she sat firmly on top of him. He looked at her in shock.

"You did hold out on me! I don't know if I should be mad or turned on…"

Reagan's smile grew wider. "How about both?"

Deacon grinned and pulled her down to kiss him. He wound her braid around his hand and then yanked her to one side—not enough to hurt her, but enough to show that he could play dirty too. She moaned into his mouth as he shifted on top of her once more. He brought his hands to her hips and began to pull down her shorts and underwear in one effortless motion.

He took a moment to admire her naked body in the moonlight, toned and yet soft in all the right places. He covered one breast with his hand and watched her rub her legs together restlessly. Replacing his hand with his mouth, he used his tongue and teeth to tease her until a whispered plea escaped from her parted lips.

"Please, Deacon…"

"David," he said softly, meeting her wild, dark eyes. "Tonight I want you to call me David."

"Okay," she whispered, and took one of his hands, guiding it between her legs. When he felt the slick warmth around his fingers, she said, "I need you, David. Right now."

He almost wanted to tell her that words weren't necessary—he could feel the very essence of her desire—but he loved hearing her beg. It stroked his ego, and that didn't happen much these days.

Deciding that they'd tormented themselves enough for one night, Deacon removed everything on his bottom half and parted her thighs. He knelt there for a moment as he was hit with the cold slap of reality.

"What?" Reagan asked, her lusty gaze clearing.

"Do you have some kind of protection?"

The intensity in her expression melted away on a breathy laugh. "I got an IUD a few years ago. And I'm clean. You have nothing to worry about."

"Okay… Likewise," he said, but didn't remove his hands from her knees. He just looked at her, looking back at him. "Reagan…"

"David, don't. I know you want this just as much as I do." She reached up and touched his cheek, holding its scratchy surface in her palm. "Just stop thinking for one night, and allow yourself to feel."

Deacon closed his eyes as she stroked his skin, finally taking him within her hand. He leaned forward, allowing her to guide him to the damp heat at her center. He gazed into her eyes as she absorbed him, taking his full length. She gasped when he pulled back and then thrust again, letting her adjust to him. He buried himself within her and met her lips for a lazy kiss, as if they'd done this a hundred times before.

Reagan was right. He wouldn't have been able to concentrate until he'd known what it was like to be one with her. Hopefully, after tonight, they'd have it out of their system for good.