Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(16)

She didn’t know him anymore, though. Or did she?

Maybe it was the alcohol tinkering with her mind, the emotional upheaval of her wayward ex storming back into her life, or a combination thereof, but she experienced the sudden need to knock him off balance, the way he’d done to her by coming home, issuing promises, looking at her the way he used to.

But lying to herself had been River’s default of late, so she decided to be honest about the other reason she wanted to throw Vaughn into his own tailspin. Feeling like a desirable woman, being touched and lusted over…it had been too long. He had woken up a wealth of sexual energy in the eighteen-year-old she’d once been, but the hunger for intimacy had been left to cool its heels. Waiting for…what? Her hormones hadn’t vanished simply because she’d become a mother. Whether she liked it or not, the way he looked at her was making serious waves in the tide pool she’d managed to keep semi-calm. The difference now being that love wasn’t part of the equation. Was there a way she could feed the demands of her body without feeling hurt or used afterward?

Yes…

River’s pulse went wild as the idea occurred to her. Not giving herself room to back down, she swayed toward Vaughn, where he’d risen to his feet on the staircase. He held out a big hand, which she took, allowing him to help her to the second floor. The flapping wings in her stomach beat with abandon, and maybe some melancholia when Vaughn remembered exactly which bedroom she slept in, opening the door with an air of authority that turned her on, despite herself. Despite everything.

She watched his Adam’s apple rise and plummet as her bed came into view. The same bed in which they’d made love when Vaughn hadn’t yet rented his apartment, or when they couldn’t afford the motel room or hadn’t yet rented his apartment.

His gaze was still burning a hole in her sunny yellow bedspread when he spoke gruffly. “Okay, doll. Got you home safe, but I need to go now.” Their fingers slipped apart, Vaughn backing toward the open door. “I’ll find you tomorrow.”

“Vaughn.”

Blunt, impatient fingers attacked his hair. “You should maybe have some Tylenol handy for the morning—”

His advice broke off when she freed her hair of its ponytail holder, shaking it out around her shoulders. The flapping wings in her chest moved lower, lower until every inch of her skin was sensitized, licked by fluttering feather tips. Vaughn’s reaction did it—the dropping of his jaw, the liquid quality that stole over his eyes. Desperate to push, to witness more of his desire for her—it felt so good—River gripped her T-shirt’s hem and lifted it over her head.

He fell into a single step toward River, reaching out for her hips. “If this is an invitation, you know my f*cking answer.”

She moved out of his reach. “Do you remember the night, about a week before I turned eighteen, when you climbed in through my window?”

“I remember every time like it happened yesterday,” he returned hoarsely. “We’d play games. Touching games, even though we shouldn’t have. Even though I damn well knew better.” Vaughn’s hand fell to his fly, showing no gentleness as he handled his bulge, kneading it, lifting it. “Knew those games would only make keeping my cock out of you harder.”

Warmth turned the flesh slick between River’s thighs, her breath shortening. “Yes, those games,” she breathed, pleasure skating through her tummy when Vaughn perused her thinly covered breasts and licked his lips, the image of a man starved. “I’m thinking of the time I asked you to—” She gasped when his gaze drilled into her, forcing her back a step—a step rendered pointless when Vaughn began prowling closer. Better say the words before he overwhelms you. “The time you touched yourself in front of me. The time I watched.”

“You’re asking me if I remember beating off onto your naked body?” He surged forward unexpectedly, fusing his mouth to her ear. “That’s not something a man forgets. Especially not when the girl gets off on it.” When she sucked in a breath, Vaughn laughed against the flesh of her neck. “You think I didn’t notice? Your orgasms were my life. I knew what they looked like, what made them happen fast, slow, hard, easy. I called each of them by name. I was their best friend.”

River’s equilibrium teetered, making her wonder if she was still in a drunken stupor after all. Or maybe she’d been overly ambitious thinking she could handle Vaughn’s fierce sexuality.

No. She couldn’t show any weakness or evidence of intimidation. There was no going back. “I want you to do it again.”

One powerful arm was around her lower back, yanking her into his warmth before she finished the request. Poised on her toes, she was held immobile as Vaughn groaned against her neck, into her hair. “So this is how I die, huh?” His Jersey accent was so thick now, she could’ve plucked it out of the air. “You’re not inviting me to touch you? You’re inviting me to not touch you?”

“Yes,” River managed, trying not to be obvious about inhaling his scent. “You’ll only be touching yourself.”

“Tell me why, first.” His huge frame was heaving with the effort to breathe. “I think I have the right to know that much before I stroke myself for your entertainment.”

River closed her eyes and four years fell away. Vaughn was once more the young man who ruled her every thought, her body, her mind. And she was a girl who hadn’t discovered her first heartache yet. Reality was right there, hovering in the background, but she pushed it away, determined to take what her body had been crying out for. In the process of letting those years melt away—just for a short time—honesty rippled out, the way it might have from a bright-eyed River, whose heart was still intact. “I…” She curled her fingers in his shirt. “I just need to feel sexy.”