Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)

Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)

Tessa Bailey




For the Babes





Prologue


“How much longer?”

Vaughn De Matteo groaned the words into River Purcell’s sweaty neck. This was it. His life was over. Or beginning. Fuck if he knew. His world had been whittled down to one incredible fact—the girl he’d been in love with since time began—or so it seemed—was beneath him in a rucked up prom dress.

And she was minutes from turning eighteen.

“I…” The breathy music of her voice warmed his ear. “The clock s-says two more minu—” She broke off on a cry when Vaughn got pumping again, thrusting his abused cock up against the lace barrier of her panties, creaking the motel room bed springs. Christ. They’d been at this for an hour. Vaughn getting worked up and River soothing him back down. To wait.

“Who did you dance with dressed like this?” His voice had gone hoarse, scraped, tortured. “You look like some kind of fairy.”

“Only because I knew I’d see you afterward,” River whispered, pushing back the hair that fell into his face. “I don’t dress up for anyone else.”

Vaughn’s laugh sounded agonized as he dragged his forehead down the center of River’s body—through her cleavage, down past the labored flutter of her belly button, stopping at the source of his baser lust, his frustration. River’s *. He hated himself for calling it such a vulgar name when those crucial minutes hadn’t ticked past yet, but Vaughn reasoned he’d earned that liberty by refusing to f*ck his younger girlfriend for two painful years.

“One more minute, Vaughn.”

He exhaled a curse between her legs. “You dress up for me, huh? The no-good prick who can’t afford nothin’ but a cheap place that rents by the hour?” After finally securing one of the condoms he’d brought around his hurting flesh, Vaughn curled his hands around River’s lifted knees, unable to stop his lips from gliding over the swath of pink lace. “Ah, God. You sure you want this, doll?”

River’s fingers tugged at his hair, urging him back up her body. “You’re the stubborn one who made us wait. I’ve wanted nothing but this since my sophomore year. Nothing but you.”

With those blue eyes shining up at him, those unbelievable words hanging in the air, Vaughn couldn’t have refrained from kissing River if world peace depended on it. How’d I get this lucky? I shouldn’t have gotten this lucky. Senior class presidents from educated families didn’t date thieving dropouts with no future. No one had clued her in?

When Vaughn finally managed to tear himself away from the frantic kiss, she surprised him by dropping the pink panties onto the bed beside them. “Time’s up.”

He cupped his girl’s cheeks, careful not to abrade her skin with the roughness of his palms. “I love you so damn bad, River Purcell.”

“I love you, too.” Her voice was unsteady, her fingers tunneling in his hair. “I’ll never, ever stop.”

Vaughn double-checked the digital bedside clock—midnight—before fusing their mouths together. As both of them whispered oh God, oh God, oh God, Vaughn bared his teeth against River’s swollen lips and pushed through her virginity. His prolonged growl of pleasure was eventually followed by River’s, and the bed springs and distant sounds of televisions blaring joined them to create a symphony all their own.





Chapter One


Vaughn De Matteo rested his forehead on the steering wheel of his truck and counted to ten. And then he did it again. The process hadn’t been necessary since his early twenties—before the army had wrung the hair-trigger temper out of him—but he slipped back into the calming countdown without missing a beat, attempting to ease the anger jabbing into his gut like splinters.

Not anger at the girl—now a woman—he’d left behind in Hook, New Jersey. Jesus, anger and River Purcell didn’t even belong in the same vicinity. No, this rage was directed at something bigger than the both of them.

Fate? Nah. Such a lofty title gave the cosmic f*ckery too much credit. Karma, maybe. Although, if finding out the woman he’d left behind—for her own damn good—had borne his child, reared his three-year-old child alone…if this was his comeuppance for touching River in the first place, he deserved it.

“Go ahead, karma,” Vaughn muttered. “Do your worst.”

His laugh was humorless. As if the situation could get any worse. It had taken him twenty-four hours to absorb the shock wrought by the letter sent by River’s brother, Sarge. Twenty-four hours he couldn’t really afford, considering the damn piece of correspondence had been sitting in his PO box for months, collecting dust. Although, what was one more day compared to four years, right?

Still numb head to toe, he’d managed to phone his employer for whom he worked as private, armed security detail, relinquishing the steady job he’d fought to procure. The job that allowed him to maintain his empty, colorless lifestyle in Baltimore, nursing whiskey and haunted by memories in a functional one-bedroom apartment overlooking a rail yard. The kind of place he belonged.

After quitting, he’d been on the road within the hour, driving back to Hook, crossing the town limit he’d never thought to darken with his shadow again. Now he sat in the parking lot outside the Kicked Bucket, mere moments from laying eyes on River again, and…f*ck. Fuck. After not allowing himself to feel anything for so long, after self-medicating with liquor every time the pain got too intense, there was no easing into the idea of being close to her again. Just knowing the filthy stucco structure in his rearview mirror had the nerve to contain River, he could feel the dangerous heating of his blood.