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Once he’s out of sight, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding before grabbing my cell and calling Detective Fratelli with a racing heart and shaking hands.
“Fratelli speaking.”
Resignation weighs heavily in his tone; however, after I’ve relayed the morning’s events, he sounds renewed and promises to keep me updated.
My stomach protests as I duck into the shower, but my desire to stay as far away as possible from my roommate of sorts is stronger than my hunger. It’s not until I’ve painstakingly taken my time dressing in black leggings and an oversized beige t-shirt that sits off one shoulder that I allow my need for food to win.
I open the bedroom door, taking care to make as little noise as possible before poking my head out to check for his presence.
Finding nothing, I tiptoe gingerly into the hall and make my way toward the kitchen, but before I can get far, my ears perk up when I hear music coming from the opposite direction.
Glancing over my shoulder, I notice an open door at the very end of the hallway, Topic and A7S’s “Kernkraft 400 (A Better Day)” blaring from within, getting louder and louder as my footsteps cover the space almost unknown to me.
By the time my brain has caught up with my feet, I’m standing in the doorway with electricity pumping through my veins becauseright there,in all his glory, is Vaughn Burton.
The Vaughn Burton from before. The one from my imagination.
A walking, talking, living, breathing wet fucking dream.
He’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, wearing boxing shorts, gloves, and nothing else as he pummels the living shit out of a punching bag.
My mouth literally salivates even as my core stirs, desire springing to life within me in the space of a heartbeat. I watch him uninterrupted as his muscles flex deliciously with each punch he lands, and I’m so enthralled that I don’t even notice when the music has ended.
It’s not until the sound of his grunts of exertion hit my ears that I find myself subconsciously rubbing my thighs together with each deep-chested, scandalously sexy groan.
After landing several resounding thuds, accompanied by those almost animalistic grunts that have made me wet beyond belief, his body relaxes, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against the punching bag.
“Like what you see, little bird?”
His voice has the effect of a whip, jolting me from my unwilling voyeurism, and I spin about, almost walking into the door frame as I try to leave. His laughter reverberates down the hall, following me all the way into the elevator until the door closes, and I grit my teeth at my stupid hormones.
Digging deep as the elevator drops between floors, by the time I reach the ground floor and a waiting Lucia, no doubt sent by Mr. Cactus himself, I’m smiling from ear to ear.
Ready, willing, andmorethan able to take that prick down a peg or ten.
* * *
VAUGHN
“Thanks for the non-existent update, Jo.”
I hang up the call and lean back in my desk chair, frustration flowing through my veins. She’s been here two days now.
Two long fucking days of invading my space, charming my employees, and smelling altogether too fucking tempting.
I’m not someone who denies himself what he wants. Fuck that, life is too damn short.
A knock on the door makes me blow out a tired breath before Lucia pops her head in. “You’re inRapturetonight. A bachelor party for Tanner Heath, remember?”
Fuck!
“No, I’d forgotten all about it, apparently.”
She smirks as I rise, following her out the door. “Glad to help.”
I jog past her on the stairs, giving her shoulder a grateful squeeze as I go. She’s been less of a pain in my ass since making her shadow Wren yesterday, and I give myself a mental clap on the back for a punishment well handled.
Once I’ve reached the living quarters, I rapidly hit the shower, thankful that Wren seems to be sequestered within her room. I’m not in the mood to spar with her right now. I can’t seem to get my dumb cock to behave around her. The sadistic fucker seems to consider our interactions as foreplay.
