Chapter 7 Vaughn #2
Bingo. Her brows pinched together in an expression of pain before she could hide her reaction.
It was her old man. Fuck. I had a feeling.
Nobody earned the sort of hushed, open-secret reputation he had without getting into some ugly, even vile shit.
No wonder she felt alone. Though would he threaten her?
His own daughter? I didn’t know nearly enough about their relationship to be sure.
“I just can’t,” she murmured, shaking her head, refusing to look at me. “And you’re going to have to believe that.”
“I don’t have to believe anything,” I reminded her while sliding my suit jacket from my shoulders.
“Especially when you’ve already lied. It took less than an hour for you to call and beg for help after practically spitting in my face.
I don’t think you have a leg to stand on when it comes to the truth. ”
What did your father do? The question lingered on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn’t bring myself to ask. She would shut down immediately if I did.
As it turned out, that didn’t matter. She shut down anyway.
“This was a mistake.” Plopping the bottle on the counter, she stood and shoved the stool aside. “I’ll Uber home. I guess I just have to hope nobody’s waiting for me outside the building, watching to see if I go in.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned out, rolling my eyes, wishing I had never approached her in the first place. “How am I supposed to help you if you won’t let me?”
“Nobody can help me.” Her voice trembled with unshed tears as she reached into her bag for her phone, which she fumbled before dropping it on the tiled floor. “Goddammit!” she moaned, lifting a shaking hand to her forehead.
“Here.” I crouched to retrieve it, but then so did she, making us bump heads. I hardly felt it.
Instead, I felt the unexpected rush of heat that filled my skull like a sudden brushfire, obliterating all other thoughts.
She was so close, her floral fragrance now containing a musky, sweaty undertone thanks to the stress she was fighting.
If anything, the combination was that much more alluring, calling out to me, demanding I gorge on it, that I bury my face in her neck and breathe deep.
She touched a hand to the place where her head had struck mine, wincing, groaning. “Par for the course,” she muttered, her voice trembling before she snatched the device from the floor and popped upright again.
All things considered, it was a good thing I was so close since her legs gave out on her while a low moan stirred in her throat.
I caught her, held her against me, supporting her inconsequential weight with no trouble.
“Stop,” I urged when she tried in vain to wiggle free of my arms. “For God’s sake, stop for a second.
Stop fighting. Unless you want to crack your head open on the floor. ”
Eventually, she went still, the hands against my chest clenching, twisting my shirt. “I don’t know what to do.” She touched her forehead to my chest before releasing a weak sigh. “I just don’t know what to do.”
If there were one thing I’d always been a sucker for, it was being needed, and this girl needed me whether she felt like admitting it or not. “The only thing you have to do for now is rest,” I insisted, my voice softer now. “That’s it. When was the last time you slept? Have you eaten today?”
“I haven’t been sleeping well.” It sounded like she had to force every word, like merely admitting she was tired was too much of a blow to her pride. “And I only had coffee so far today.”
“That could be part of the problem.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she warned, lifting her head from my damp chest. Somehow, even now, she managed to sound feisty. She had sensed a challenge and was determined to meet it head-on.
She was wrecking my peace and beginning to invade my every waking thought, but she had grit and determination.
“Has anyone ever told you life doesn’t need to be a fight all the time?
” I asked, searching for some kind of understanding, not only of her but of myself.
I needed to understand why it suddenly seemed like a smart idea to touch her skin, to stroke her face and brush away her tears.
Why was it so easy in an attempt at keeping her on her feet to turn into a sudden awareness of her body?
The way it fit against mine, its softness, and how right it felt.
Whatever had started Saturday night with the help of too much liquor was demanding to be finished now.
And here I was, stone-cold sober, reflecting on what a good idea that seemed to be.
How could I explain that? It was a waste of time to try.
Her mouth was so inviting, so close to mine, drawing me in. One taste, that was all I wanted. I would be satisfied with that.
Or so I told myself before lowering my head, taking my first experimental taste of her delicious, plump lips. Whatever we had exchanged at the end of the ceremony didn’t count. Now, I was clear-headed, aware, and was going to take what I wanted. What I needed.
That single bit of contact was a match to dry kindling, making me burst into flames and threatening to consume me in a heartbeat.
Both of us. We were both at risk. The moan she released when I parted her lips to slide my tongue across the seam told me so. The way her fists clenched my shirt again, tugging, and how she softened in my arms.
I backed her against the counter, one hand on her hip, the other sinking into her thick hair, holding her head still and angling mine so I could sink my tongue deeper, exploring her, letting myself do everything that had only existed in fantasies.
The type that haunted my dreams, disturbed my thoughts, making it impossible to function the way I should.
When her arms wrapped around my neck to pull me down, the beast inside me roared its approval.
Hell, yes, she wants this as much as I do.
She needed it too. This woman needed my hands on her as much as she needed to run her nails through my hair before scraping them over my neck and shoulders.
Her fingers pressed against my muscles like she was testing them, and her deep, satisfied groan turned my already erect dick to steel that twitched when she moved against it.
Inch by inch, I explored her silky, firm thigh, raising her dress a little at a time.
She broke the kiss long enough to suck in a throaty gasp before kissing me harder, deeply, with a fierceness that matched her personality.
I wanted nothing more than to meet that energy.
To see how far we could go. How good it would be.
“Come with me,” I whispered, breathless and lost in a haze of lust. My arms encircled her waist as I lifted her off her feet, and she wrapped her legs around me without hesitation, clinging tight while I drowned in the taste of her skin, her scent, her very essence.
My mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat between clumsy, stumbling strides through the kitchen and down the hall to one of the two guest rooms. I had to get her there.
I’d die if I could be inside her. I might never get this chance again.
“Wait.” I barely heard her at first, the word slipping out between her ragged pants for breath. When I continued carrying her to the bedroom’s open door, she grabbed the doorframe and held on tight. “I said wait. No,” she insisted.
No? Why no? Her kisses couldn’t lie, no matter how determined she was to lie to herself.
Yet her grip didn’t loosen. The certainty in her voice didn’t lessen. “Put me down, please,” she begged, still breathless. “Vaughn. Please.”
Fucking hell. My balls were heavy, and my dick was dripping by the time I set her on her feet, but a ‘no’ was a definite no.
She swayed slightly before backing away two paces.
Her chest heaved with every ragged breath, and her already dark eyes were nearly black, lust still swirling behind them.
Or was that what I needed to tell myself?
“I must be more tired than I thought.” She ran her hands over her head, smoothing back some of the tendrils that had come loose from her bun thanks to my touch. “I’m sorry.”
What the hell was she apologizing for? She had saved us worse awkwardness than what we were already dealing with.
“It’s fine. Anyway, here’s the guest room.
The en suite is attached.” It was easier for my pride to switch off the personal side of things and focus on what needed to be done.
“Get some sleep. Take all the time you need.” There was barely time to observe the frown she wore before I closed the door between us.
While she slept, I would have to take an arctic shower. Whatever it took, so long as I got a handle on my impulses. Kissing her—and more—would have been regrettable enough if I didn’t know she had somebody after her.
Now? It would be worse than regrettable.
It could be… suicidal.