A decade of anger and lust and twisted vengeance and guilt. People end up who they are for so many reasons, but our lives—mine and Vaughn’s—the people we became grew directly from our parents’ affair. We never had a choice. We never had a chance. We were cut short, aborted, our obsession with each other slashed dead in a single instant. One significant moment that bitterly transformed the rest of our lives.
I never considered that seeing him again I would be hit so hard by memories, the intense emotions, and this overwhelming sense of need. It makes me feel as if someone has taken all my bones from my body, and I’m nothing more than liquid flesh and blood melting into this bed. Melting into him. Vaughn Montgomery was my cancer, lying dormant in my heart and bones for years, just waiting to arouse and poison me the first chance he could.
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.<
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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.”
I spread my knees, but his legs on either side stop me from opening them too far.
Vaughn drops his forehead to my shoulder, his hot breath fanning out across my back. I shiver beneath him.
His lips press down against my skin, just along the back curve of my neck. It tickles and curls a tingling sensation at the base of my spine. His tongue flicks out, his teeth bite gently. I want to cry out. To beg for release.
His chest presses against my back, his big, thick cock slipping between my thighs, sliding over my slickness. One, two, three strokes of the head of head cock over my opening then sinking deep inside me. “Ah, fuck,” he moans, against the side of my neck.
My God, the way he feels.
He’s so big and hard, I can feel every pulse and throb of him inside me, filling me completely, utterly, until there is no more me. I’m only an illusion of flesh and blood and bones. Both of us a current of electric energy, made of pure pleasure and need, building and vibrating with such intensity that it is quite possible our climaxes could bring down the rest of this goddamn mountain.
A sweet, coiling sensation flutters at the apex of my core. A whimper bubbles up from my throat and my eyes squeeze shut tight. Vaughn pulls out slow, and thrusts back in, over and over in long, slow delicious strokes. Deeper and deeper each time. The full length of him pushes and pulls, drags along my walls, sparking that flutter into a spiraling, uncontrollable tension.
“Oh, fuck. This is…oh fuck,” his voice shakes.
I rock my bottom to the slow steady rhythm of his thrusts. “This is what?” I moan.
“So fucking good…I’m losing my mind.”
I’m desperate for him to lose more than his mind with me.
I roll my hips faster and dig my nails into the fisted sheets. Whimpers and little breathy sounds fall from my lips, and the more moans I make the faster and harder his thrusts become. And good God, am I about to start singing.
“Jesus, babe—you’re so tight…ah…I can feel how close you are to coming.” The lean muscles of his legs tighten around my thighs and his voice tumbles into low growls and mumbled curses.
The winding pressure in my body coils and curls, it ricochets through my insides, building and spreading. Harder and deeper he drives into me until liquid fire explodes through my body. It erupts in my core, spreading like hot lava, melting down my legs. I can feel every muscle in Vaughn’s body working as my orgasm squeezes around him. His arms tremble, his legs shake, his abdomen strains with every thrust he tries to get through. Driving and thrusting, over and over, his breaths a jumble of grunts and prayers until his entire body tightens and I feel the warmth of his orgasm spilling into me.
For a brief moment we stay still, and I feel, for just a second, the warm press of his lips between my shoulder blades. A small intimate gesture that steals my breath away.
Then the weight of his body shifts, and he’s gone, rolling to the other side of the bed, creating a chasm of distance between us. My heart hiccups, hammering with a chaotic beat of small shatters and quick breaths. Heaviness fills my stomach, dropping it down to the floor.
I just had sex with Vaughn Montgomery. The corners of my eyes sting and I drop my chin to my chest. What the hell did I just do? I still feel the heat of his body on me. I can still feel the last tingles of pleasure seeping from my pores. And I want more. Ashamed, I stand up and stumble away.
Then a wave of nausea slams through me when I feel his warm cum running down my leg. “I can’t believe that just happened,” I mutter. I’m in shock, grabbing spastically at the tissue box and trying to wipe away all the evidence. Could that have really just happened? Maybe I didn’t make it out of the avalanche in time after all. Maybe I’m dead.
I run my hands through my hair. My fingers catch and tangle in knots.
“That didn’t just happen,” Vaughn says, his voice hoarse and cracked. “We weren’t us, remember? Just two strangers.”
A thick lump forms in my throat and my entire face tingles with heat.
Maybe I’m having a stroke.
Vaughn watches me with wide, shell-shocked eyes. “I’m serious, Claire. Strangers. We can’t let—"
“What do you think I’m going to do, call TMZ and tell everyone?” I snap.
“Maybe,” he smiles, letting me know he’s teasing. “Maybe you’ll get a few thousand for the story.”
“Right, whatever. Believe me, Vaughn, no one thinks your sex life if worth any amount of money.” I make my way over to our discarded clothes. They’re still wet and cold on the floor and I’m standing in the middle of the room as naked as the day I was born.
I need to get out of this cursed house. My phone! Where’s my phone? “I don’t know where my phone is. Do you have yours? Can you call someone?” I don’t know how long we’ve slept. I don’t know what damage is done. My brain is foggy and a plethora of emotions are spinning through it in wild pandemonium. Complete anarchy in my mind.
“Claire, it’s three in the morning,” he sighs. “There’s no one I can call right now.”
I nod like a bobble head on the dashboard of an off-road vehicle and avoid any and all eye contact with him.
“Hey,” he says in a soft voice, “are you okay?”
No, I am absolutely not. I’m stuck here with him until it’s a decent hour to call for help, and I’m not sure I can take even a second more. I mean, really, it’s been how long since we woke up and I’ve already had sex with him. Really, really great sex with him.
“Claire?” I feel his eyes on me like the sun on a hot summer day.
“Yeah, I’m great.” I’m just perfect, except for the undeniable possibility that I’m going to either to kill Vaughn Montgomery and bury him under the frozen ground or fall madly back in love with him.
Chapter 14
Vaughn
Claire’s expression is a mixture of misery and fear. I want to avert my eyes from her, give her some privacy as she staggers around the room on her emotional rollercoaster ride, but I can’t make myself look away.
She’s mesmerizing. The way her body moves around the room is like liquid. The confused crease between her brows. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And what we just did? Jesus, sex hasn’t been this good since…
She pushes her hands through her hair and spins around the room, completely lost.
I think I broke her.
She leans over to pick her shirt up off the floor and I watch breathlessly as she moves, barely bending her knees. It’s almost a dance step, quick and graceful, and I’m rewarded with the briefest peek of the thin patch of hair between her legs and her still-glistening folds. I bite my fist to stop myself from groaning loud enough for her to hear.
I fail epically. She glances back over the perfect swell of her ass and catches me salivating at the view. I’m instantly hard again.
We stare at each other for a long, silent moment, and for every inch of her I see, I need another.
Her expression turns contentious, and she drops the wet shirt and stands up really, seductively slow like this is some chess game we’re playing, and she’s just made her move. Fine, game on. I whip the hundred pounds of covers off and climb out of the bed. As I move, I coil and tighten the muscles on my arms and legs and give her a perfect view of my chest and stomach. She’s not the only one who takes care of her physique here. I hit the gym every day.
I watch her eyes as she takes me in and I saunter toward her, dick hard and ready for her next move.
She raises an eyebrow at it.
Totally not what I was hoping for.
Her face quickly pales. “I think I need a drink,” she whispers to herself.
Damn, is she…is she scared?
Claire’s scared of me? I mean, I get we have issues and we’re angry with each other, but she can’t think I could ever hurt her, could she? Nah, no way. I’m
overthinking.
“I could use a drink too,” I sigh. “There’s a small dry bar inside the living room. I already hit it before you went storming out into the snow making us end up back here. Naked.”
Her mouth falls open. “Oh, so us naked, this…what just happened… all my fault, right?”
I shift in front of her and lift her chin with a gentle nudge of a crooked finger. “No. No, we both just did that.”
Sad eyes stare up at me through long, thick lashes. She mumbles something under her breath, something about her mother.
“How about we get that drink, huh?” I ask, brushing my thumb along the bottom of her chin. I can’t help but want to touch her. “We can be civil to each other. We could talk.”
She stumbles sideways, hurrying toward the bedroom door, tripping over her own feet. I stand for a moment, folding my arms across my chest watching her walk out the door, stunned. Claire Radcliffe is absolutely terrified of me.
And I don’t think she hates me at all.
“Bring the wet clothes, Vaughn. There’s a washer and dryer!” she shouts after a beat. “Because of course there is,” I hear her mutter to herself.
Shaking my head, I scoop up our wet belongings and follow the sound of her mumbled curses.
I find her in a small laundry room off the side of the kitchen, wearing a button-up shirt that barely covers her ass. Without making eye contact, she grabs the wet clothes from my arms and tosses them into the dryer. Then, after turning it on, she shoves a soft, terrycloth robe into my chest. “Here, I found this. It’s like a luxury hotel here. The price tag is still on it. Look,” she flicks the tag aggressively at me. “It’s Versace. And it only cost a little more than a grand.”
I unpin the tag and let it drop to the floor. She’s right, it’s Versace. Smooth and soft and elegant, and assuredly one of my father’s. I slip my arms through the sleeves and smile at her.
“That robe you’re wearing cost more than my rent!” she huffs.
“Do you want to wear it instead?” I ask, before tying it closed.
“Fuck no,” she growls, stomping her way into the living area, still unable to meet my eyes. “My phone should be here somewhere. Right? I’m going to call 911 and tell them a mountain fell on me.”
Enemies & Lovers Page 9