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I told my parents I’m staying at Gwen’s for a few days, just so they don’t bombard me with questions. I step inside his condo, and drop my bag on the floor by his door. “I guess I’ll get ready for bed.”
Vaughn laughs. “It’s not even nine yet. Do you normally go to bed this early?”
“No, not usually. But, I don’t want to get in your way. Just pretend I’m not here.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” he mumbles under his breath. “Are you hungry?”
My appetite is gone since I received the phone call, even though it’s been a few hours since we ate. “I’m good.”
Vaughn rolls his neck to the side. “Ok, I’m gonna change into something more comfortable.”
“Do your shoulders hurt?” I ask him.
“Yeah, it’s nothing. Just work and stress.” He rotates his arm, kneading his fist into his shoulder.
“Sit down.” I grab his hand. “It’s the least I can do.” I tug him over to the couch and push him down.
“What are you doing?”
I sit behind him so I can massage his shoulders. The moment I make contact with his sore muscles, he groans.
“Fuck, Pea. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Stop being silly. Let me do this for you. After everything you’ve done for me, this is nothing.”
He’s quiet while I work his muscles through my fingers, applying enough pressure to work out the kinks. “This feels so good.”
A sense of pride floods through me at his words that I’m the one making him feel this good, and I keep going, wanting to make him feel even better. “You have a lot of knots,” I tell him as I massage the base of his neck. “It would be easier without your shirt on.”
I want to press my thighs together to push away the pressure building, but sitting in this position it’s impossible. Just touching him this way turns me on.
He tugs the back of his collar at the neck and pulls the shirt over his head, tossing it onto the chair. “There.”
It takes me a moment before I return to the massage because I can’t stop studying the muscles of his back. Like a work of art, they’re gorgeous, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this up close and personal with these kinds of muscles before. I want to lick them.
I continue massaging his shoulders, my mouth drawing closer to his heated skin. What if I dotted a kiss right there, at the base of his neck? Would he even notice?
My mouth waters, wanting nothing more than to taste his skin. He moans a little more, dropping his head forward, and I seize the opportunity to peck the tiniest of kisses on his neck.
“Fuck, Pea,” he says on a husky growl.
He felt it. But, I no longer care, because I can’t stop. I want another kiss. A greedier one. I lean closer, opening my mouth to run my teeth over his skin. And now my hands have a mind of their own, racing down his back, running my nails down his sides.
He groans out, turning around. “What are you doing to me?” he asks me as he cups my face in his hands.
“I just wanted to taste you.”
He studies me for a long moment. Like a full minute, or even two, passes before he leans closer. “What are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know. I know we shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t help myself.”
His eyes bounce between mine. He licks his lips, and I mirror the action. “Neither can I.” He brings his mouth down over mine and the next thing I know we’re kissing.
And oh how my knees go weak.
He starts light, his mouth just a whisper over mine and then the kiss grows hungrier, needier. Like he can’t get enough of me.
It turns me on.
He leans back, and picks me up to straddle his lap. “Christ, what are we doing?”
I gaze into his light-blue eyes, wondering the same thing. What are we doing? This man I’ve known most of my life. The man I never thought I’d ever have a chance with. What is he doing to me? “I don’t know,” I tell him, because honestly I don’t.
He tugs me closer, our lips connecting and he kisses me all over again. Only this time there’s a hint of more with it. So much more.
And I want so much more with him.
I can’t believe this is really happening, but my body heats up, the ache between my legs intensifying. “Vaughn,” I moan out, my hands roaming over his six-pack.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You.” I rock into him, feeling his hardness through his jeans.
There’s too many clothes between us, and I reach down to unzip his zipper.
He gazes at me, pushing me off his lap so I’m standing in front of him. He reaches for my jeans button. “Are you sure about this?” The way he asks me, so desperate, sets me on fire.
