It wasn’t so easy to shrug it off when the woman was Vaughnne, and he told himself that maybe he’d misunderstood her. After all, she’d told him he was arrogant, had mouthed off to him before they fell asleep. He was just respecting her wishes, really.
The door to the bathroom opened and the woman came striding out, wearing nothing but a bath towel, her hair pulled back and away from her face. Her eyes cut to his, and any sign of sadness or pain was completely gone.
She looked arrogant now. Arrogant, aloof, and the light in her eyes was one of warning.
He stood by the door, waiting, watching.
And damn near swallowed his tongue as she stood in front of the neat little stack of clothes and dropped her towel.
Beads of water still clung to her shoulders, rolled down the slope of her breast as she grabbed a pair of panties. Black. It seemed black and white were her preferred colors in wardrobe choices, so that was all he’d grabbed for her, but he would love to see her in red silk. Blue satin. Emerald green. Anything. Everything. Nothing.
His heart slammed against his ribs as she pulled the panties up over the taut, round curve of her ass. Then she shot him a dark look. “If we need to get on the road, don’t you think you should get ready?”
Ready? If he were any readier, he might die of a heart attack.
She stared at him for a moment and then looked away, that disdainful expression still on her face. She reached for her bra and he locked his gaze on her breasts, memorized those curves for the few brief moments he had left to him. Perfect, he decided. Just about perfect. Full enough for his hands, nothing more and nothing less, her skin that soft, warm brown, and her nipples were a deeper, darker shade. Puckered, and tight, too.
¿Qué carajo? What was he doing? She wanted him. He wanted her. Saving her . . . from what? Himself? She’d said a hundred times if she’d wanted to leave, she’d do just that. And if she tried, he’d let her. He’d already decided that. Because he didn’t need the assurance that she’d look after Alejandro. She would already do it. That was just who she was.
So what or who was he trying to save her from?
He dropped the bag he was holding.
Vaughnne shot him another dark look as she reached for a shirt. “You know, if you’d wanted to stare at my tits, you should have done something about it earlier. We need to get going, right?”
Closing the distance between them, he caught the lapels of the black shirt before she could start to button it up. “It can wait,” he said gruffly. Dipping his head, he pressed his mouth to the curve between her neck and shoulder.
Vaughnne stiffened.
He breathed in the scent of her skin, warm and soft, smelling of the lousy soap the hotel had provided, and something else . . . female, unique to her. The lotion she slicked on her skin, maybe. He didn’t know, but the scent was enough to drive him mad. Raking his teeth along her skin, he caught the collar of her shirt and dragged it down.
She shoved her hands between them. “Hold on there, pal,” she said, her lip curling.
He lifted a hand and cupped her face, dragging his thumb across her mouth, watching as hunger danced in her gaze even as she edged backward.
“I’m not a plaything.” She glared at him. “Hot little pillow talk last night, and then this morning, it’s all serious shit, but five seconds later, you want to put your hands on me again? I don’t do this hot and cold stuff, Gus.”
“Gustavo.” He leaned in, flicking his tongue across her lower lip.
She tensed. “What?”
“My name. It’s Gustavo. And I always want to put my hands on you, Vaughnne,” he whispered, teasing the entrance to her mouth, but she still wouldn’t open for him. “But last night, you talked as though that wasn’t what you wanted. I thought perhaps I’d respect your wishes . . . for once.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, some of the tension eased from her body. “You were trying to play the nice guy?”
“It’s not a role I’m used to.” He caught her lip between his teeth and tugged. “Perhaps it is arrogance. I know women. I know when they want me, and if they don’t, I know how to make them want me. You want me . . . and if you didn’t, I could make you. But then you do silly, naïve things like try and save me. And I lay in bed this morning thinking I didn’t want to make you want me. If you wanted me . . .”
Earlier, she’d fisted her hands against his chest, the tension in her arms keeping him from pulling her close. Now, she sighed and stroked her hands upward, sliding them around his neck. “Gus . . . Gustavo . . . you know, you really strike me as the typical Casanova—you should know everything there is to know about women. So how can you be so damn stupid?”
“I’m not . . . not usually. But you undo me. You make me forget everything . . . make me want to forget everything, even when I cannot.” He skimmed a hand up her back and tangled it in the long, dense tail of her hair. “Let me take you to bed, Vaughnne.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” She leaned back and the slumberous heat in her gaze was like fire in his veins. “Let me take you.”
HIS eyes went hot. So hot, they blazed like silver fire. She pushed against his shoulders, watching him, waiting . . . and he acquiesced, moving backward and letting her push him back onto the bed. She rolled her shoulders, shrugging out of the shirt she’d never gotten around to buttoning up. He sat on the edge of the bed and she stood in front of him, catching his shirt in her hands and dragging it up over his head.
He didn’t do a damn thing to help her, just sat there, watching her with those burning, hungry eyes.
It was almost as erotic as his touch. She went to her knees in front of him and toyed with the button of his jeans until he went back on his elbows. She trailed the tips of her fingers across his belly and watched as the muscles quivered under his skin.
Before she could get too distracted, she reached for the bag she’d left on the floor and hauled it closer, dipping a hand into the interior pocket where she’d stashed the rest of the condoms she’d bought. She pulled out one, wished they had the time to indulge in a hell of a lot more.
But this was all they had.
Something tightened in her throat.
For all she knew, this might really be all . . .
Stop it. This wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. She had to enjoy it, right?
She tossed the foil packet down on the bed next to him, looking back at him, holding his gaze for a minute. “You ever wish we had an entire night for just this?”
His hand came up and cradled her cheek. “Only from the minute I saw you.”
Her heart clenched in her chest.
“Yeah?” She forced herself to give him a cheeky grin. “Maybe if we don’t both end up dead, we can take that night.”
Before he could say anything else, she reached for the button of his jeans and slid it free. He was already hard and she had to work the zipper down, aching inside at the feel of him under the sturdy denim. Hard, solid, thick. He pressed against the boxers he wore, a heather gray that was soft under her fingers as she caught both the jeans and the underwear in her hands.
He lifted his hips for her to drag the material down, and she caught her breath at the sight of him.
“You . . .” She licked her lips. “You’re not circumcised.”
“No.” His gray gaze locked on her face. “Does that bother you?”
Closing her hand around the base of his cock, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his length, and hunger twisted through her as he shuddered. It gripped his entire body, and when she lifted her head and flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock, he swore, a harsh, guttural phrase in Spanish that she had no hope of understanding. Whatever it was, it was sexy as hell, and the look on his face was almost enough to make her come.