Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(15)

Just one more way he hadn’t treated her the way she’d deserved.

Vaughn ground his teeth, casting a sidelong glance at River in the passenger seat. Yeah, he might have grown adept at reading and accommodating River’s moods back in the day, but she was sure as shit a mystery now. When he’d pictured River agreeing to his involvement in Marcy’s life, there’d been a sense of completion—or homecoming—far-fetched as it sounded, especially after what he’d done. One thing he hadn’t expected was the breaking apart of their connection with such a profound snap he’d almost seen it playing out in real time. The familiarity between them had floated away like a colorful balloon, leaving them as strangers in that frozen bubble of time.

Pulling up in front of River’s house brought up enough memories to paralyze Vaughn in the driver’s seat a moment, but he propelled himself from the truck to help River down. She was still unsteady on her feet in a way that made Vaughn yearn to carry her up the porch steps, but intuition kept his arm in its safe place around her shoulders.

“I have to pay the babysitter,” she murmured, before one hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God. You can’t…” His eyebrows went up at her word choice. “Okay…I can’t have her thinking I’m bringing home a man.”

Possessiveness blew into his stomach with the power of a hurricane. “You’ve never brought a man home before.” Not a question. “Jesus, Riv. I really don’t f*cking mind knowing that.”

“How exciting for you,” she snapped, face turning pink in a way that got his juices flowing like the rapids. “You’ve seen me home. Thank you. Now, please leave. Tomorrow you can show up without any warning and tease me into another argument.”

Vaughn put one hand on the doorjamb and eased closer, tucking stray hair behind her ear, a move natural as inhaling. “Teasing you? Is that what I’ve been doing?” I should back off, but she’s looking right at my mouth. “Teasing implies I didn’t mean to follow through, and…ahhh, Riv, I would’ve sent you back into that factory with bite marks and a smile if you’d let me.”

Her chest lifted and fell on a shudder. “Is that right?”

When had their faces gotten so close? “Don’t ask questions when you already know the answer.”

Damn, he was overstepping. He should’ve let River maintain her good reputation with the babysitter, but something about the strong possibility she’d been without sex since they were together…yeah, she’d basically busted the dam holding back his testosterone, sending it flooding into his bloodstream. Not good. Really not good when River was half in the bag, and she’d just agreed to allow Vaughn into their lives. Any kind of sexual advance could blow his progress to hell, but Christ, when had he ever been logical in anything River-related?

Hell, though. Maybe he still had the ability to read River somewhat, because she was giving those familiar signs of digging in her heels. Her shoulders were bunched up in the vicinity of her ears, the fingers of her right hand curling into a ball. If he didn’t want this time she’d allotted him to be over, he’d better pull back on the instinct to touch and possess…all of her.

Jesus. Pull back, man. Before it’s too late. He should leave. Now. But being with River was like standing in the light after four years in a cave. Retreating to his hole without being forced was impossible. “I’ll meet you inside.”

“What…”

Vaughn winked at River as he backed down the stairs. “You still keep the key under the ugly frog statue?”

“It’s not ugly. And you can’t—” When Vaughn shook his head at her unfortunate phrasing, she broke off, stomping her foot on the wooden floorboards. “We can’t,” she clarified, those big eyes pleading at him from above. As in, we can’t go inside for the purpose of ripping off one another’s clothes.

“I know, Riv.” A wave of regret punched him in the gut. How many times would his decision to leave hurt her all over again? “I won’t…touch you again unless you invite me, all right?”

The words had been pried from his mouth by rusted pliers, but they satisfied some of the guilt bubbling in his abdomen. With one final glance at River’s slight form, Vaughn continued his journey to the back door, cursing himself for making the promise. Because there would be snowballs in hell before he ever broke another promise to River…no matter how much his body yearned to break all the rules.

…

River paid Helen—who seemed to take a month packing away her knitting supplies—and went through her nightly ritual of turning off lights and securing the house. Although, it was much more difficult to accomplish the tasks after a pint of tequila…and with Vaughn watching her from the bottom stair. Grave eyes followed her from the living room to the kitchen, watched as she checked the locks on the windows. She tried not to rush through the process, pushed by her tired brain into making the point that their lives wouldn’t be completely altered just because he’d come back to Hook.

In her periphery, she saw him shift positions, obviously uncomfortable, just as he’d always been in the living room of her family home. Her parents might not be there anymore, but her father’s disapproval of Vaughn must have lingered, judging from his visible restlessness. She’d once asked her mother why her father held Vaughn in such low regard, and surprisingly, his reputation as a troublemaker was only half responsible. Like many contentious relationships in Hook, the dislike went back a generation—a dispute between their fathers, the origin of which River was only partially aware. But she’d known enough to be sure that it had nothing to do with the Vaughn she’d known, so she’d never pursued a full explanation.