But my body yearns for him.
I want…
I want the inconvenience of us; the savage desperation, the filthy sins. I want to revel in these sheets and steal back what was so harshly taken from me. The most profound truth that was taught to us at age fifteen, love cannot conquer all; and I want to revolt against the life lesson.
There’s a long silence between us. Vaughn stares at me, unblinking. The intense gray depths of his eyes, the reality of him, makes me want to fight against my body, and catapult myself out of this room, out of this life. I can’t want any part of him.
But I do.
Desperately.
Was there something magical about the Montgomery men that the women in my family were cursed to desire them no matter the cost? I’ve been with a few men after Vaughn, I tried, I really did, but each one was less meaningful than the last.
Loving him ruined me.
There’s so much I should say to him right now, so many things I should tell him. Yet I say nothing. I say nothing because hate is so much safer for us. Love needs too much, forgiveness is too daunting, too much hard work. Love is too vulnerable and tragic. It can crumble away and die so easily when it’s not cared for. Hate—hate can flourish and grow all by itself.
Vaughn pulls on one of the blankets we’re wrapped in, loosening its grasp on us. When I start to pull away, our eyes meet, and there’s an ache in his expression that paralyzes me.
Neither of us move, but I can feel every inch of my being liquify under the weight of his stare.
Then, slowly, he reaches out, bringing his fingertips to my collarbone. It’s barely a touch, yet it sends a pulsating ripple over my skin. Goose bumps surge over my arms and legs. His hand trails down, slow and deliberate, lowering through the valley of my chest, inch by delicate inch. My skin tightens. Heat blooms and swells low in my belly.
His fingers stop on my ribs just below the bottom of my breast.
I know I need to stop this, whatever this tangible thing I can feel, thick and real between us. But the words just don’t come out. It feels like my body has taken over, my brain clicking into autopilot, and it only wants me to surrender to his touch.
He lowers his face to mine with small hesitant movements until his forehead presses softly down against my temple. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers.
Apparently, I’ve lost all ability to speak and use common sense.
My brain is screaming for me to get up and run away from this man, but my body feels tethered to the tips of his fingers. For Vaughn, I bet this would be fun. Just another easy mark, a plus-one to his body count. For me, it would be catastrophic. Once we leave this den of sin, once I find what I came here for, Vaughn would discard me without a care, and I would shatter apart. Just like last time.
So why can’t I find the strength to push him away?
The hand on my ribcage lifts, and the slow, delicious slide of his knuckle drags up over the bottom of my breast, until his fingertips curl and circle around my aching nipple.
A low humming sound vibrates from somewhere deep in my throat. I can’t control it. Can’t silence it.
His lips brush across my cheek then slide along a path from just behind my ear to the base of my throat. He isn’t kissing me or using his tongue. It’s a slow tease of his breath over my skin and the heat of his mouth that lights a fire between my thighs.
He moves the smallest bit closer and his erection presses against my upper thigh. He groans and I feel his cock pulse and throb between us.
“Jesus, Vaughn.” My breathing becomes shallow.
So does his.
“You haven’t told me to stop,” he rasps.
His soft, warm fingertips slowly, very slowly, continue their circular strokes around and around my nipple.
“I fucking hate you, and you…you hate me,” I breathe.
“But there’s something else here besides hate, isn’t there?” He leans in even closer, his lips sweeping the corner of my mouth. It’s hardly a kiss, but it sends a bolt of lightning down the middle of my body. “You feel it too, I know you do.”
His erection is hot against my thigh, it’s all I can think about, all I can focus on. I don’t remember the last time I was ever this turned on. I’m ashamed of how wet I am. I squeeze my eyes closed. Sleeping with Vaughn would be a horrible mistake, but my body craves his, it’s practically begging for it.
“Forget who we both are for one minute. You’re not Claire. I’m not Vaughn. We’re just two strangers,” he whispers against my mouth.
I like his thought process way too much. “Just two strangers with no past?”
“It’s all erased. Everything. Nothing bad has ever happened between us. I’m not Silas Montgomery’s son and you’re not Libby Radcliffe’s daughter.” His warm breath tingles over my lips.
“The only thing we know about each other is that we’re both stuck in a snowstorm and we just lived through an avalanche,” I say, slanting my head the tiniest bit.
“It’s so cold. We have to keep each other warm,” he rasps, taking my whole breast into the palm of his hand, gently squeezing and caressing it.
“With our body heat,” I say breathlessly.
He lowers his mouth to my ear. “Just your body against my body.” His words tighten my muscles with anticipation and need.
“Just staying warm,” I gasp.
“You can call me Max,” he says.
“Why do you even need a name?”
“Believe me, you’re going to want something to scream out in a minute,” he chuckles.
“Right, you’re that good. I find that most men who brag about—”
“Shh,” he hisses with a low laugh. Then his hands instantly slide down my sides, around my belly, and slip lower. Heat spreads through me, it aches in my breasts and rages into an inferno between my legs. “No more talking unless you’re telling me to fuck you harder or how big my dick is…”
He flips me over and presses his body fully up against mine, flattening me to the mattress. He’s one long, hard wall of muscle and heat. “Face down, so we can’t see each other. Is that how you need it?”
My face pushes against the mattress, his heart pounding against my back. I feel it like the beat of a bass drum, wild and excited. His arms are still wrapped around me, one hand slipping down my body between me and the bed, until his hand is cupping my sex. One finger slowly sliding itself over the swollen bundle of nerves there, back and forth, over and over.
My hands fist the sheets. I think I might go mad, wanting him, waiting for him.
His erection, hot and thick, bears down into the bottom of my spine. Instinctively my body wants to arch up toward him, to bring him lower down my thighs and open my legs wide. But he’s pinning me to the bed and I can’t move.
He pushes up and straddles his knees on either side of the back of my thighs and his thick shaft pushes snugly between my ass checks. He’s taking his time teasing me, his arm still around the front of me, his fingers soaking wet. I have never been so turned on in my life.
A whimper seeps out of my lips, a wordless plea. I’m dizzy with lust. Suddenly glad I’m facing away from him so he can’t witness my desperate need.
Then he bends all the way forward, lowering his mouth to my ear. “If you want me, open those gorgeous legs. I need inside you.”