Vicious Rebel (82 Street Vandals #2) - Heather Long Page 0,18
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he took me straight to his room or that I followed him inside without an argument. Three steps in, and then Vaughn invaded my space. One finger under my chin, he tilted my head back, then his mouth was on mine.
I forgot how to breathe or object or the dozen other thoughts that had tangled in my head not thirty seconds earlier. Despite smelling like he’d been in a dessert flavored smoke factory with hints of copper sticking to him, Vaughn tasted like heat, sin, and escape.
Falling wasn’t hard when he was lifting me up before I could even land.
Chapter 6
Emersyn
Words formed, burst, then tried to reform as Vaughn stroked them right out of my mouth. A thousand things I could say, and none of them made it past the gatekeeper of his lips. Sliding my hands into his hair, I fisted the softness of it as he continued to hold my mouth captive.
Thick, powerful fingers dug into my ass as he lifted me. Drunk on the taste of him, I groaned as he began to move. The rasp of his denim against my leggings reminded me of how thin they were, and I swore I soaked right through them.
Three steps, and we were in the bathroom. I barely recognized myself in the mirror as he cut on the lights and shoved the door closed without letting go of me once. I’d worked with plenty of dancers not even half that coordinated.
The press of his mouth to my chin then down my throat let me suck in a ragged breath. His skin was so damn hot under my fingers. The raw demand to lose myself in him communicated beautifully. I wanted out of my clothes so I could writhe against him. Somewhere along the way, I’d hooked my thighs to his hips, and he maneuvered us in the bathroom, turning on the water, all the while still kissing me and massaging my ass. We never lost contact as I rolled my hips to grind against the very present erection.
I forced my eyes open, determined to see and savor him rather than just drown in sensation. The colorful pattern of art on his skin rippled as he moved, and I dug my fingers into the bunched muscle of his shoulder and…
“Vaughn,” I groaned, then jerked away from his lips as I ran my fingers over his shoulder.
“Hmm, Dove?”
“You’re bleeding.”
He stilled for a moment, then twisted, still holding me as steam began to billow from the shower. The red speckles on his back couldn’t be anything else. If I hadn’t been so intent on consuming him, I’d probably have noticed the coppery odor. There were streaks on his back, almost like it had…
I wiggled, more to get down than to turn either of us on, even if the thickness of his erection reminded me of just how good he’d felt moving inside of me. Reminded me of the sexy piercing gliding against my inner walls and lighting me up.
But he was bleeding.
And Freddie had been a mess…
“The 19Ds. Freddie said something about them.” I wasn’t even sure what a 19D was other than a poorly numbered bralette of some kind.
“Dove.” Vaughn’s low growl caught me off guard, even as he set me on my feet. He slid a hand up to my chin, capturing it and effectively fixing my gaze on him. “They’re no one who will be allowed near you. The ones who hurt Freddie have been dealt with. He’s safe. So are you.”
“I’m not worried about me.” I frowned at him. “My problems are…” I ground my teeth together, but instead of pushing me, Vaughn focused those dangerous for my good sense green eyes on me. Their influence demanded I listen and beckoned me to choose. “My problems aren’t whatever the 19D are. They’re different.”
I leaned back against the wall, exhausted all of a sudden, as if that confession pulled it out of me. All afternoon while I’d sat upstairs in Doc’s clinic and even after he’d moved me down to his office, I hadn’t been able to sort an easy solution to my problem.
There’d never been one.
“I want to tell you,” I admitted. “Even if you’re not asking. Maybe because you aren’t asking. But I don’t know how much I want to confide in you is because I like riding your dick and how much of it is because I want to trust you.”