Chapter 15
15
VAUGHN
W hat the hell had just happened? I’d let Hope get close. Too close. But when she’d been in trouble in the water, all thoughts of what I might do if she touched me had vanished. My sole focus had narrowed to helping her.
Thank Christ I’d been clothed, or I could’ve hurt her. Drowned her, even. It was yet another reason Brandon needed to send a replacement fast. Hope wasn’t safe around me.
As I marched up the sand, I adjusted my uncomfortably hard cock. Why was Hope’s fiery side such a turn-on? The animal within me wanted more of that sass just so I could tame it. I’d thought I liked submissive women, but apparently the thing that turned my dick to stone was a brat.
Specifically, a curvy little whiskey-eyed brat who both pissed me off and made me want to screw the snark right out of her. Hope had no idea how much I wanted to wrap her long dark locks around my fist and follow through with it. A couple of orgasms ought to make her more compliant.
But then Brandon’s firm words echoed in my head: Don’t fuck this up . And sleeping with Carlos Espinoza’s daughter was the very definition of that.
I snatched my phone, pistol, and boots from the sand and headed for the casita. A bunch of the dogs followed me into the yard. I didn’t turn to see where Hope was, but judging by the feminine growl coming up the path, she wasn’t far behind.
Titan dropped a ball at my feet, so I threw it onto the grass for him to fetch. Hope muttered something unamused to her dog. I couldn’t help it if the mastiff liked me.
“Let me know if there are any other chores that take you away from the house so I can keep an eye on you,” I called over my shoulder.
She tore open the door of the large dog pen. “Go fuck yourself!”
But, Gatita, it would be so much more fun if you were involved.
On that unhelpful thought, I adjusted my crotch again since it showed no signs of going down anytime soon. I’d have to take care of that.
After corralling the dogs into the pen, Hope stormed inside the main house, slamming the sliding door behind her.
I’d follow her as soon as I got out of these wet clothes and washed up, but first I’d call Sage to schedule a phone call with her and Brandon.
I dialed on my way inside the casita, and Sage picked up on the second ring. When I told her about my progress with Hope—skipping the part about our swim—she was eager to set up the meeting.
“That’s fantastic,” Sage said. “Brandon’s tied up until this afternoon, so it’ll have to wait until then. It’d be better if Hope came to the ranch, but I understand her reasons for wanting to stay. You’re okay with bodyguard duty, right?”
I headed into the en suite. It was one of those open bathrooms with a toilet and sink on one side and a showerhead sticking out of the tiled wall on the other. An overhead rail with loose rings indicated a curtain had once existed, but any privacy screen was long gone.
“No.” I pulled my wet shirt over my head and tossed it onto the floor. “This isn’t working out. You need to send someone else.”
As soon as a replacement arrived, I could get back to my regular job and stop thinking about Espinoza’s daughter as anything other than a source of intel.
Fuck me. I was fantasizing about boning a cartel princess. The guys would have a field day if they found out.
But Hope wasn’t a narco, and I felt like a prick for even thinking it. The things she’d told me in the water about how she’d tried to free her friend and what she’d gone through to escape had been hard to listen to. If Alvarez weren’t already dead, I’d track that son of a bitch down and end him in an entirely unmerciful way.
When Hope had thought I’d been staring at her scars because they were ugly, something had ached in my chest, a feeling I was unused to. I’d almost— almost —told her what I’d really been thinking. That she was so fucking brave and beautiful I couldn’t stop looking at her. Not because I thought her burns were hideous. Never once had I thought that.
If only she knew how scarred and messed up I was beneath my tattoos and clothes.
Maybe that was why I was being such a jerk to Hope. Her strength highlighted my weakness. My torturers were dead, but they controlled me every single day. In some ways, I was still stuck in their cage, unable to return to a normal life. Would I ever get my head right?
“Why would we send someone else?” Sage asked. “It sounds like things are going well.”
I winced and ran a hand through my wet hair. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
“Jesus, Vaughn.” Sage groaned. “Did you do something to upset her?”
“Of course I did. I’m me.”
“I swear to God, I could punch you right now. If Hope shuts down because of your assholery, we’ve got nothing. You hear me? Nothing! Sort your shit out, Decker.” She ended the call.
I stared at the lock screen of my phone, more than a little pissed with all the women biting my head off today. Was I dead and in some kind of purgatory for being a douchebag?
I turned on the shower, then peeled off my jeans and underwear. While steam filled the small room, I stared at the rusty vanity mirror and the tattoos covering my scars. What a goddamn fraud, hiding behind all that ink.
Hope didn’t have the same choice. It wasn’t like a half-face tattoo would draw less attention. Her injuries were front and center for everyone to judge. No wonder my staring made her uncomfortable. I wished I’d had the balls to tell her those scars only made me admire how she’d survived a nightmare and come out the other side far more mentally stable than me.
And it was sexy as hell that she wasn’t intimidated by me. Maybe if she knew all the depraved things I wanted to do to that luscious little body of hers, she wouldn’t taunt me so much. Then again, maybe she would.
I needed to do something about this hard-on.
After stepping under the spray, I made fast work of rinsing off salt and sand. On a chest-high ledge, there was a ceramic pump bottle of bodywash, so I used it to lather myself up. At the first stroke of my cock, I groaned. This wouldn’t take long. All I had to do was picture Hope pinned to this tiled wall, ass in my palms and those perfect tits pressed against my chest while I slammed into her.
Wait. No.
That wasn’t right. I didn’t fuck that way. It was always face down, ass up, hands secured where they couldn’t touch me.
Except I couldn’t get Hope’s amber eyes out of my mind, and the way I imagined she’d hold my gaze and gasp when I thrust inside her to the hilt. I could almost feel her fingers digging into my scalp, urging me to take her harder, and I…I fucking liked the idea of it.
What was wrong with me? This wasn’t my usual spank fantasy. There was never touching or a particular face associated with the imaginary woman I fucked. Just a willing body. My dick disagreed. It wanted Hope. That inconvenient truth was bolstered by the fact that I was seconds from finishing and I’d only just started.
Head hanging low, I braced my free hand on the ledge but bumped the bodywash. It fell to the floor and shattered. Shit. I’d clean it up later. I was too close to coming to stop now.
“Fuck,” I hissed, and worked myself faster.
A low growl made its way up my throat when my balls tightened. Christ. This felt so real I almost swore I could hear her saying my name.
Hold up. Hope was calling my name.
A moment later, she did it again.
What the hell was she doing in the casita?
I should call out for her to leave. That would be the sensible thing. But…what if I didn’t? The bathroom door was ajar. Would she stealthily peek inside? The deviant in me really wanted Hope to stumble across me clenching my cock in my fist, and the thought of her staying to watch me finish only made me harder.
I doubted she’d move beyond the doorway or make her presence known once she realized I was jacking off, so she wouldn’t be close enough to see my scars.
I smiled and continued working myself.
Time to find out how brave my feisty kitten really was.