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. “Becauseof coursethere 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.”
