by James, Julie
She shook her head. “I swear, Roberts, the more I learn about your gender, the more I think a sperm donor, a good handyman, and a great vibrator is the better way to go.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “In defense of my gender, we’re not all dogs. As a matter of fact, I happen to be friends and work with a lot of good guys.”
“Ooh. Anyone you can set me up with?”
He gave her a long, dark scowl.
She’d take that as a no.
“I just breeched the sex-buddy etiquette again, didn’t I?” she asked.
“Quite.”
Sidney fought back a laugh, thinking that Special Agent Vaughn Roberts was rather cute when irritated.
Another person joined the group next to them, pushing her closer to Vaughn. Seeing her getting crowded, he took her elbow and slid them farther along the railing, where a concrete pillar blocked them from the rest of the bachelor and bachelorette party.
“So, I’m wondering something,” she said.
“Yes, he’s a player. Next question.”
She poked him in the chest. “That wasn’t the question. What I’m wondering is how you think your mother will react when she finds out that Isabelle is pregnant. Obviously, that’s one of the main reasons they’re going through this whole secret-baby charade.”
“Funny, Simon and I were just talking about this the other day.” He contemplated her question. “Look, my mother is very traditional in her beliefs. But does she truly believe that her two unmarried adult sons have never had sex? I doubt it. Still, as long as she has no specific evidence to the contrary, she’s got plausible deniability.” He shrugged. “Once she finds out that Isabelle is pregnant after the wedding, what’s she going to say? They’ll already be married by then. Plus, she loves Isabelle. Actually, she loves both of you.”
Sidney perked up, hearing that. “Really?”
Vaughn nodded. “Every time I talk to her, she wants to know if I’ve seen you and how you’re doing.”
“That’s so sweet. It’s great how close you are with her—you’re very lucky to have that kind of relationship.”
Vaughn studied her for a moment. “What was your mother like?”
Sidney smiled fondly. “She had a wicked sense of humor. Before she got sick, she and my father used to tease each other all the time. She was a little hot-tempered—I know, the stereotypical redhead—but also very passionate and loving. Isabelle looks just like her. At times, it’s almost uncanny.”
“And what did you inherit from her?”
She’d never been asked that before. “My mother could be quite sarcastic when she wanted to be.”
Vaughn’s hand brushed against her cheek. “I think she’d be proud to see how her legacy has been carried out.”
It was partially a joke, partially a compliment—or at least, she thought it was—and part something sweet that suddenly made Sidney’s chest pull tight. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said huskily.
For a moment, he just looked at her.
“There you are!”
The voice—Simon’s—came from their left. Sidney instantly took a step back, just as an inebriated Simon nearly tackled Vaughn.
“I’ve been lookin’ all over for you,” Simon said, red-faced and slurring his words. “I need to tell you somethin’.” He threw his arm around Vaughn and squeezed. “I love you, man. This has been the best night ever. I got my friends, I’ve got my brother, I got my gir—” He blinked and then grinned as he teetered to the right. “Sidney—hey! How are you?”
Sidney smiled. Yep, definitely a happy drunk. “Probably not quite as good as you, but no complaints.”
Simon pointed his beer bottle at her. “Isabelle told me about the trick you set up with her drinks. Genius.” He threw out his arms and narrowly missed shattering the beer bottle against the concrete pillar. “Best future sister-in-law ever, folks. Right here.”
“Aw, thank you.”
Vaughn subtly shifted his brother away from the column and out of harm’s way.
Simon, still on a roll, gestured between them. “And I gotta say somethin’ else. I know, in the beginning, there was some kind of . . . friction between you two.”
Vaughn and Sidney exchanged a look.
Simon shook his head emphatically. “Don’t know why, and it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you put whatever it was aside for Izz and me. And that is truly cool.” He looked at Vaughn and tapped his bottle to his chest, spilling beer all over his shirt. “You feeling me, bro?”
“I’m feeling you, man.”
Simon turned next to Sidney, tapping his chest again. “You feeling me, Sid?”
“I’m feeling you.”
“Awesome.” He caught sight of someone across the bar. “Dude! You made it!” With a grin, he walked over and threw his arm around a guy wearing a dark blue shirt.
“He is so going to be hurting tomorrow,” Vaughn said.
“Eh, Isabelle will take care of him. Knowing those two, she’ll probably think he’s just so adorable when hungover and hurling in her toilet.”
Vaughn laughed, and then looked at her for a moment.
“What?” Sidney asked.
He cocked his head. “Come with me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Well, look how fast somebody’s dirty little mind goes into the gutter.” He took her hand. “Come on. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”
Vaughn led her across the terrace toward the main bar, where the two men with whom he’d walked in earlier were having drinks. The taller man with brown hair nudged the blond one with glasses as she and Vaughn approached.
Vaughn stopped in front of them, giving them each a stern look. “Don’t make me regret this.”
The taller man laughed. “Who? Us?”
Vaughn made the introductions. “Sidney Sinclair, this is Cade Morgan and—”
The blond man jumped in. “Seth Huxley, Vaughn’s partner.” He shook her hand.
Cade was quick to follow. “It’s nice to meet you, Sidney. Vaughn has told us”—he paused, glancing over Sidney’s head at Vaughn—“nothing. Nothing at all about you. Who are you, again? Yeah, I don’t think she’s going to buy that one, Roberts.”
“You’ll have to excuse us if we seem a little excited,” Huxley explained to her. “Vaughn doesn’t introduce us to a lot of women.” He thought about that. “Or any, really.”
Vaughn clapped his hands. “Okay . . . clearly, some people have been drinking and getting loopy while I’ve been gone.” He turned to Sidney. “Ignore them. They don’t get out much. Sad, really.” He leaned down, speaking in a low tone only she could hear. “And before you ask, they’re both taken so, no, I can’t set you up with them.”
She snapped her fingers. “Damn.”
“Just so I know: if I buy you a drink, is that likely to increase or decrease the sassiness?”
“Oh, increase, for sure.”
“Good.” His voice was low and flirty in her ear. “I look forward to it.”
Delicious sparks of heat curled low in her stomach.
He flagged down the bartender and ordered them both drinks. While chatting with his friends, she learned that Cade had just gotten engaged. The vibe among them quickly took on a celebratory tone, heightened by the fact that tonight, apparently, was one of the rare nights that Vaughn and Huxley were unarmed, having left their guns at home—per FBI policy—since they’d known they would be drinking. Then Trish joined them, and this seemed to be even more of a cause for celebration, and suddenly they were all toasting to girls’ nights out, and moms’ nights out, and special agents’ nights out, and the drinks really started flowing.
Somewhere along the way, Sidney felt Vaughn’s hand brush against hers, and then he ran his thumb lightly over he
r fingers and drew teasing circles against her palm. Feeling a little warm, she stepped away from the group and headed off to the restrooms, all private, unisex rooms. She found one that was unoccupied and was just opening the door when she felt Vaughn’s hand grab hers, tugging her the rest of the way inside.
He locked the door and instantly was on her, pinning her against the wall as his mouth hungrily claimed hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he settled against her, the hard ridge of his erection pressing between her legs.
“Are you drunk?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.
A little, yes, and so was he. “I feel good.” When his hand found the slit of her dress and slid up her bare thigh, she moaned. “Keep going.”
He slid his hand into her lace underwear and cupped her. “You’re wet, Sidney. What have you been thinking about?”
She curled her hands around the lapels of his jacket and gave him a hot, open-mouth kiss in answer.
When he pulled back, his eyes burned into hers. “I’m taking you home tonight.”
“What about your seven-day rule?”
His answer was low and gritty.
“It’s after midnight. You’re mine now.”
• • •
IN SIDNEY’S BEDROOM, Vaughn watched as she slowly unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. She stood before him in her black lace bra, underwear, and heels. He had no doubt that many men at that bar tonight had fantasized about this very image, and now she was all his.
“Lie down on the bed,” he said. He was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol, and he could tell that she was, too. But her eyes still had that saucy, confident gleam that always seemed to be challenging him.
She lay on top of the bed and crossed one high-heeled leg over the other. She gave him a coy look, as if to say she was waiting.
He took off his jacket, uncuffed the buttons on his sleeves, and walked around to the foot of the bed. He grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her toward him, then leaned down to take her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. When he pulled back, he guided her up to a sitting position and knelt between her legs.
“After I take these off,” he said, hooking his fingers into her lacy underwear and sliding them down, “you’re going to spread your legs. Then you’ll put your hands on your knees and hold yourself open for me.”
“Will I now?” she asked.
“You will if you want what comes next.”
Her eyes flashed, but she did what he asked.
His cock began to throb at the sight of her on the bed, legs spread and naked except for her bra and heels. “You are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Vaughn,” she said in a husky voice. “Touch me.”
He was all too happy to comply. He slid his hands underneath her ass and tilted her hips upward, then gave her a long, teasing lick between her legs.
She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair. He took her hands and put them back on her knees. “Keep yourself spread for me. Show me how much you want my mouth on you.”
Then he lowered his head and set about the business of driving her absolutely fucking crazy.
Only when her entire body was shaking, when she was moaning almost nonstop, did he finally relent. “Do you want to come?” He circled his tongue teasingly around her clit.
“Yes. Please, yes,” she breathed.
He slid a finger inside of her, holding her right along the razor’s edge of an orgasm. “I love it when you’re like this. So turned on. So sweet.” He sucked her clit into his mouth again, knowing that would push her over.
When she cried out and her body clenched tight around his fingers, his cock strained against his zipper from the need to be inside her. He stroked her until she came down, then he stood up and undressed.
“My turn,” she said, as he climbed onto the bed.
When he’d gotten settled against the pillows, she straddled him. She smoothed her hands over his chest, and then down his stomach, her fingernails scraping lightly across his skin.
“So it occurs to me . . . that a man like yourself probably has a particular way”—she took his erection in her hand—“he likes his cock sucked.”
Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
“You can start by wrapping those red lips around me,” he said in a guttural voice. “I’ve been thinking about that all night.”
“Hmm. And then what?” she asked, still stroking him. “Should I lick and tease you for a while? Or would you prefer I just take you as deep into my mouth as I can?”
Vaughn suddenly found his throat a little dry. “I vote for all of the above.”
“Of course that’s what you’d say.” She bent down and licked a drop of precum from the tip of his shaft, then ran her tongue along the length. True to her word, she teased him with her lips and tongue, then finally slid him all the way in.
He groaned. “That’s so damn good, Sidney . . . suck me just like that.” He tangled his hand in her hair as she used her tongue to caress the underside of his throbbing cock. With one arm tucked behind his head, he watched her, and when she brought him close to the breaking point, he gave into the possessive feeling that had been clawing at him all night. “Look at me, baby. I want to see your eyes.”
She looked up, holding his gaze while she continued to slide her mouth over him.
The moment was so goddamn hot, he nearly came right there. “You drive me so fucking wild.” He saw the flare of heat in her eyes and touched her cheek. “I need to be inside you. Now.”
She slid him out of her mouth and sat up, grabbed his pants off the floor, and tossed him his wallet. Breathing heavily, he rolled the condom on and then watched as she guided the head between her legs and lowered herself all the way onto him.
“Put your hands on my chest.” He grabbed her hips and began gliding her forward in time with his thrusts. He started slow at first, until her body adjusted to him. Then he picked up the pace, the two of them moving together as she rode him hard. “You fit me so good,” he rasped as he hurtled toward the edge. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”
She said his name, her body squeezing tight and milking his cock. His jaw clenched from the force of his orgasm, and he shuddered as wave after wave hit him, until she collapsed on top of his chest and his arms wrapped tight around her, holding her close.
Twenty-four
VAUGHN WOKE UP to the sound of water running.
His head jerked up off the pillow and he blinked, quickly getting his bearings.
Sidney’s bed.
No gun on the nightstand.
Sexy, naked redhead missing. Damn.
That covered, he fell back onto the pillow with a groan, feeling as though someone had taken a hammer to his skull.
As his eyes adjusted to the daylight, he noticed something that was on the nightstand, presumably set out for his benefit. A bottle of extra-strength Tylenol.
He smiled, thinking it was cute that Sidney had thought of him, then popped two of the pain relievers into his mouth. Slowly, the events of the night came back to him: the things said, the fun times had by all, the even better time had by him and Sidney when they’d gotten back to her place and—hold the phone—had Huxley actually said the words eye-fucking?
Clearer evidence that they’d all been good and toasted, there could not be.
The bathroom door opened, and Sidney stepped out with her hair in a bun and a towel wrapped around her. She smiled when she saw he was awake. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been wrung out and hung up to dry.” Vaughn watched as she pulled a pair of cream lace underwear out of one of her drawers and let the towel drop to the floor.
He was quickly getting better.
Sidney slid on her underwear and a bra, then pulled her hair out of the bun and let it tumble over her shoulders in auburn waves. He tucked his han
ds behind his head, thinking he could watch that move all day.
“I’m making a Starbucks run,” she said. “What do you want?”
“You are a goddess. I’ll take a venti of their dark roast.”
She pulled on a pair of jeans and winced.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Let’s just say, I woke up with scruff burn in some very interesting places.”
He laughed, rubbing his unshaven jaw as he got out of bed. “Oops.” He came up behind her and kissed her on the neck. “Mind if I use your shower while you’re gone?”
“Uh . . . no. Not at all.”
Thinking maybe he’d heard her hesitate, he tilted his head and saw that she was looking at their reflection in the mirror over the dresser.
A split second after their eyes met in the glass, she smiled. “So. Starbucks.” She slid out from his arms. “I’ll be back.” She headed for the bedroom door.
“A shirt might be good.”
“Right.” She turned around. Wasting no time, she grabbed a shirt out of her closet—not even pausing to see which one—and walked out of the room, shoving the shirt over her head as she nearly flew toward the stairs.
Vaughn watched her go, thinking that was the fastest he’d ever seen Sidney Sinclair move.
Apparently somebody really needed her Starbucks.
• • •
AS SIDNEY HURRIED down the stairs, she told herself to chill out.
So, for one teeny tiny moment while looking at her and Vaughn’s reflection in the mirror, she’d thought they looked cute together. So what? He was a very attractive man; he’d look cute standing next to a toaster. That didn’t mean she was having relationship-type thoughts about the guy—because she definitely knew better than that.
Vaughn was the guy who picked up random women in coffee shops. The guy who had a seven-day rule in order to avoid emotional entanglements, the guy who hadn’t had a serious relationship in years.
He was not a Mr. Right.
She’d made her pledge, and she was sticking to it. No more commitment-phobic men, no more player types, no more guys with issues or drama or whatever. She wanted someone who was solid and steady, someone who knew without any doubt that he was ready to go the distance.