Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)

by Tessa Bailey

  “Squeeze my hand when I hit your spot,” Vaughn ordered, sounding as if his vocal chords were being strangled. He loosened his buttock muscles, allowing his achy cock to slip mostly free, before tightening them on a deep drive, pushing from his feet for extra leverage, ramming River’s hips up against the couch’s arm. When she moaned a string of unintelligible words, fingers attempting to crush his, Vaughn knew exactly what she meant. “Smacked right up against it, didn’t I?” He gave her another rough pound, loving the sound of flesh bumping flesh, his balls swinging up to reacquaint themselves with River’s underside. “Fuck. You hear that little slapping sound? If I jerk myself off with enough soap in the shower, I can almost recreate it. Almost. But never just as perfect. Nothing is that sweet and perfect.” The tempo of his pumps increased out of necessity, a storm building in his stomach. “Didn’t stop me from trying every chance I got, did it, doll? Imagining you taking me, hard as I could give it, getting slapped with my flesh as a reward for being brave.”

  River released a long moan into the sofa, her shoulders beginning to fill with tension, her back arching against his chest. “Vaughn, please. Vaughn, please.”

  “Tell me when you’re close, and I’ll drill that spot, Riv.” His mouth was making a mess out of her hair, rummaging through it, breathing through the fragrant strands. “My cock hurts from missing you, wants to coat you. Just let me get you a little closer so I don’t leave you behind.”

  To anyone else, he might not be making sense, but River’s head bobbed, hand tightening in his grip. “I’m…just a little harder. Harder.”

  Vaughn could feel the mask of pure agony take over his face, as he obliged his woman’s needs—needs he would have walked over a barren desert full of live mines to fulfill. The stiff couch arm kept River from budging—not even a centimeter—as he quickened his pace, grunts punctuating the air now. Sweat rolling down the sides of his face. The furniture scuffed on the floor, lifting up and banging back down against the carpeted floor with coarse thuds. “How close, how close, how close,” he chanted, his teeth skimming up and down her neck, over her damp shoulders. Both hands slipped beneath her body, palming her tits and tweaking the stiff nipples, showing them no mercy. “It’s going to sting when you clean yourself in the shower tomorrow morning. Every fucking morning from now on. And I want you to tell me all about it. Get mad at me, get turned on. Just tell me how your pussy feels the morning after I fuck it. That’s my privilege, you hear me?”

  “Yes,” River gasped. “Close, I’m really close.”

  Vaughn dropped his hand from River’s tits before delivering a sharp spank to both nipples, the smooth undersides of her bouncing orbs. Then harder, with more force, as his dick pinned her with brutal thrusts to the elevated couch arm. “Watch me over that shoulder. Show me how you look at your man.”

  He could tell it was an effort for River to focus on him, but that line of invisible wire between them was a requirement. It heated and glowed as his hips reached their peak speed, leaving and filling so fast, the sound of smacking blurred together in a continuous, filthy noise. Smacksmacksmacksmack.

  And the climax hurtling toward him brought uncontrolled speech to his lips, aggression to his hands and pummeling body. “You never stopped being mine. I need you…mine. River. It hurts and it feels so fucking good.” He twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled. “Keep your goddamn thighs open.”

  The moment her pussy seized around him, Vaughn’s muscle control vanished, leaving his upper half draped over River as his hips gave their final, uneven drives, pleasure flooding out and shaking him to the core of his being, finally leaving him replete. At some point, his arms had banded beneath River, holding her steady as their heartbeats eventually slowed.

  “I know we can’t sleep in the same bed yet,” he said against her shoulder. “But…just let me hold you here a while, huh?”

  When she nodded, he blew out the breath he’d been holding and laid them down on the couch, turning River so she could tuck her head beneath his chin, feet between his calves. The smoothness of her palms traced up and down through his chest hair, and God, the world finally made sense again in that moment. “Thank you for coming with me. Seeing you and Marcy in the crowd…”

  After a beat, River spoke into the hanging silence. “That man you were on the stage today…that hero. That’s how I always saw you.” She laid a kiss in the center of his chest. “I just hope you see yourself that way now.”

  Vaughn hooked the arm River was using as a headrest and crooked the elbow behind her neck, crushing her close, lips lingering on her forehead. Speaking was too difficult, so he used his breath, his mouth in her hair to show her what he couldn’t say out loud, hoping all the while that her faith, teamed with his unshakable love, would be enough to keep them from breaking apart again. Because not everyone saw him as the man who’d been honored that night. Some people—namely River’s father—would only ever see him as gutter trash that had no place beside River. There was a test coming, Vaughn could feel it. He just hoped his burgeoning self-worth—still tenuous at best—would be enough to withstand whatever came their way. It had to be. Because if he lost River twice, he might as well have died back on the battlefield.

  “Vaughn?” River’s breath drifted over his throat. “You’ve gone all tense on me.”

  He forced his muscles to relax. “I’m just thinking about how much I hate sleeping without you.”

  She nuzzled her face beneath his chin. “Soon.”

  Please God. Let that be the case.

  Chapter Eighteen

  River woke before Marcy—a first—due to a relentless buzz saw whirring at the back of her skull. She couldn’t quite give a name to what was causing the anxiety, only knew the idea of returning to Hook didn’t bring the sense of comfort it should. Guilt crept in when an image of her father rose like a harbinger. She shouldn’t feel that way about the man who’d raised her. He was a good man who cared for his family. But something was off. Just a quick call to check in…and I’ll feel better.

  With Vaughn asleep in the second room, door closed, River unhooked her cell phone from the charger and snuck out into the hallway. Knowing her father would be on the fishing trip, she dialed his mobile, frowning when it went to voicemail. After leaving a quick message to return her call, River resolved to try him again later. Just as she turned to reenter the room, Vaughn appeared in the doorway, barefoot in low-slung jeans. “Hey.” He nodded at the phone, completely unaware he’d spiked her libido like a football. “Who’re you calling?”

  Why did she have this sudden sense of being…disloyal? It was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? “My father.” She lowered her voice in deference to their sleeping child. “He’s staying with us a couple of nights while he’s on a fishing trip. I just wanted to let him know we were coming home. In case he’d returned early.”

  Vaughn’s expression was carved in stone. “Why didn’t you tell me he was in Hook?”

  The buzzing increased, making her skin feel tight. “I don’t know,” she whispered, wondering for the first time if Vaughn could possibly fill in the blanks.

  River wanted to ignore the anxiety that formed a barrier around Vaughn as they drove back into Hook an hour later. After the soul-squeezing sex they’d shared last night, and the transition into family life this morning, she’d forgotten to worry, positive she’d imagined the lines around his mouth when they’d returned from the hallway. There was nothing imaginary about the way he continued to rake agitated fingers though his hair now, though, answering her in monosyllables.

  This pattern was too familiar, even after so much time having passed. Vaughn clamming up, neglecting to make eye contact. River getting anxious, withdrawing into her head to overanalyze, wondering where they’d taken a wrong turn. In her early twenties, she would have remained in that holding pattern until Vaughn broke her out of it. But she’d grown up, and she could do that for herself now.

  When he coasted to a stop at a red light, blocks from her house, River
reached over, laying a hand on his knee. “Your meeting at the factory is tomorrow. Do you need help preparing…or anything?”

  “It’s under control,” he answered, barely moving his lips. But he seemed to realize with a double take how short he’d been throughout the last few miles. “I’ve, uh… I’ve been contacting men, mostly guys from the area who Duke and I went through basic training with. They haven’t had the easiest time finding employment, and they needed a chance like this.”

  River glanced through the windshield with a dazed smile. “Wow. The factory is going to be guarded by ex-military. Can’t say we won’t be safe.”

  Instead of laughing, the way she’d hoped, Vaughn’s jaw went tight. “Not like before, right? When you were working in that shit stack during the day and coming home in the pitch black—alone—after serving drinks in the bar. You weren’t safe then, were you, Riv?”

  She slowly took her hand back. “Why are you bringing this up now?” Her sternum ached, as if she’d been struck by a fastball, right in the center. “I thought we were moving past this—”

  “Sometimes the past doesn’t let you off that easy,” he gritted out. In the backseat, Marcy started crying, and Vaughn’s face paled, his attention flying to the rearview mirror. “I thought she was asleep, I—”

  “It’s fine,” River interrupted, her own irritation rising. She took off her seat belt, turning around in the passenger seat on her knees. All was well as soon as she handed Marcy a juice box, but Vaughn? Not so much. His eyes were back on the road, harder to read than before. And it speared her with dread. Had he changed his mind about them getting back together? She didn’t think it possible, not after the bond they’d proven last night was still undeniably intact. But…what if she was wrong?

  In that moment of doubt, River learned something about herself. The possibility of Vaughn having second thoughts didn’t make her want to fall down, dissolving into a puddle of tears, like the girl she’d been at twenty-two. No, it made her want to fight. For them? Yes. Just not that second. She was too pissed off at having their trip brought to a crappy end. For having her fear of Vaughn leaving tugged to the surface. And most of all for the reminder how quickly he could still make her insecure with his silence.

  As soon as Vaughn pulled the Pontiac to a stop, River pushed open her door, slammed it, and hit the sidewalk, taking Marcy out of her car seat with a smile she hoped was patient and unfazed. Yeah, right.

  “Hey,” Vaughn said from behind her, having the absolute nerve to sound baffled. “What are you stomping around about?”

  She took a deep breath and faced Vaughn, forcing herself to keep her voice down. “I want you to leave. Now, please.”

  His hands went to his hips, dark eyebrows drawing together. “Why is that?”

  “Because you’re being a jerk,” she responded succinctly. “And you’re not going to talk about why. You’re just going to stew. Or be cryptic and says things like, ‘sometimes the past doesn’t let you off that easy, little lady.’” He narrowed his eyes at the way River mimicked his deep voice, but she didn’t give him time to respond. “Well, no kidding. No kidding. Don’t talk to me like I haven’t figured that out.”

  He took a step closer. “Doll—”

  “Oh no. Don’t doll me.” She put up a hand, halting his progress in her direction. “You want to be a part of us? Stop being such a mystery. There’s no room for that here. We need to be on the same page to be a team, like we spoke about. So until you get there? Please. Leave.”

  “Not leaving when you’re this mad.” He scratched the side of his stubbled jaw, running his gaze up and down her body. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this mad.”

  “If you tell me it’s turning you on, I’m going to slug you right in the stomach.”

  “All right,” he said, voice getting harder. “I won’t tell you. But you should know I’m thinking it.”

  River’s foot ached with the need to stomp. She and Vaughn were squared off, having moved closer when she obviously hadn’t been paying attention. Dammit, she hated that the argument was only half the reason her blood grew hot, her skin turning sensitive beneath the dress she wore. Beneath his white shirt, she could make out the outline of the unrefined tattoo forming her name and longed to trace it with her fingertips, kiss each letter. God. How could she want to scratch his eyes out and jump him at the same time?

  “They’re back!”

  The familiar voice caught River and Vaughn off guard, both of them twisting in the newcomer’s direction. Half a block down, Duke’s four sisters were headed in their direction, waving with their free hands, the other hands holding bags from the local toy store.

  “What is happening here?” Vaughn muttered the question on River’s mind, just as Marcy started to kick up a fuss for being left in her car seat too long. Automatically, River went to work, freeing the three-year-old and setting her on the sidewalk, which set off a fit of squealing from the sister posse now even with River’s front yard.

  “Duke said you ought to be home about now.”

  “Just stopping by with a few things for the little one.”

  “Lisa cuts hair. Does the kid need a haircut? She brought her scissors. Good ones. You can’t get them just anywhere.”

  “How was traffic?”

  No one waited for an answer to that last question, all four sisters hustling a dazzled—and somewhat dazed—Marcy inside, somehow knowing exactly where River hid the spare key inside the decorative lantern arrangement.

  After a moment River looked at Vaughn. “What just happened?”

  A corner of his mouth edged up. “I think Duke needed to watch SportsCenter.”

  “I’m never getting rid of them now, am I?”

  “We.” He was back to sounding irritable. “We’re never getting rid of them.”

  His unwise tone of voice snapped River’s spine straight. “I meant what I said, Vaughn,” she said. “I can’t do this—us—if you’re going to leave me wondering what’s coming. I need to know what’s coming.” Way to be clear, River. “I need to not be worried I’m losing you again. And damn you for making me feel that way.”

  Vaughn plowed forward, pinning River to the car, his hands tunneling through her hair, his body hard, so hard, against her own. “Losing me? God, what made you think that? What did I do to make you think you could”—his touch dropped away like his muscles had given out—“lose me.”

  She watched the irony of that question register in Vaughn’s eyes, but didn’t feel any victory in it. Only relief at having gotten through, of not being alone in the shell of her constant worry. “We can’t get by on just sex anymore.” Even as she spoke the sentiment, even fully meaning it, her tummy flipped at saying the word “sex” when Vaughn’s mouth was only a breath away. He liked hearing River say it, too. She knew by the tick-tick-tick in his cheek. “I like that we communicate that way, but we need words, too. I need words and honesty. All the time. You can’t disappear into yourself on me. I get scared, and I’ve gotten too strong to feel that way.”

  Head dipped forward, Vaughn settled a hand at her waist. “I scare you, Riv?” He started to talk, stopped, started again. “Jesus, doll. You know I’d rather die than make you scared, don’t you?”

  “You don’t do it on purpose,” she whispered, hating the misery in his voice. “I know you wouldn’t. But I can already feel us slipping backward, and I won’t let it happen. You have to talk to me.”

  Vaughn’s thumb began to strum her belly in a way she knew wasn’t conscious, but it sent shimmering lust right to her center. Made everything hidden by her panties feel heavy. Achy. “You’re the only one I’ve ever talked to. The years I spent out of Hook? Sometimes I went days without saying a word. Why the hell would I say something you couldn’t hear, you know?”

  With a vigorous twist taking place in her chest, River curled a hand in the bottom of Vaughn’s T-shirt, pulling him closer. “You told me about what happened in Afghanistan. I know it was hard, but y
ou did it.” She went up on her toes and kissed his chin. “Tell me what’s bothering you now, and we’ll work through it together.”

  Against her lips, she felt Vaughn’s jaw harden, and knew they’d hit an impasse. “I can’t change overnight, Riv. Some things are better left unsaid.”

  She rocked back on her heels. “There you go being cryptic again.”

  “I’m not leaving Hook. Not leaving you. That’s written in stone,” he grated, pressing her up against the car, frustration echoing through his big body, making hers sing nonetheless. “Let me take you somewhere. I’ll remind you of the way we work. One of us gets bent out of shape, and the other one smooths it out.”

  “That’s how we used to work,” River breathed, trapping a moan in her throat when Vaughn dipped his head to capture her earlobe with his teeth. “I love that part of us. But I’ll go crazy without more.” With a will she hadn’t been aware of possessing, River slipped out from beneath Vaughn’s crowding frame. “Figure out if you can give it to me.”

  She walked into the house on unsteady legs, feeling Vaughn’s gaze on her the whole time. But she didn’t look back, because he would see her susceptibility. And River wouldn’t allow that after the battle she’d just fought. The battle for them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Vaughn pulled up outside the motel, he couldn’t remember the drive over. He’d replayed the conversation with River so many times, he’d started saying the words out loud, responding with shit he should have said back outside the house. Apart from that one time he’d blown off dinner with her parents, he’d never seen River that pissed off. And yeah, that display of temper had gotten his dick hard, because he knew she’d put up just enough resistance in the process of getting her clothes off, the way she’d done that night on his kitchen floor so long ago.

  But he hadn’t expected actual resistance. As in, “learn to communicate or go the hell home, asshole.”

  The worst damn part of it? River was right. He doled out just enough of his thoughts to get what he wanted from people. But employing that same method of distance-keeping with River had been a big, shortsighted mistake. A mistake he’d been making since they’d gotten together as teenagers. One he didn’t have a damn clue how to correct, and one that couldn’t be blurred or ignored with sex.