I raise a brow at him. “You need rest, yet here you are.”
A suave grin appears to curl on the corner of his lips that look soft, and his dimples are my downfall, causing my inner walls to tighten. “Ah, so you’re saying I won’t be getting rest?”
Swirling on the stool to face me head-on, he plants his hands down on the edges of my seat to ensure I have no escape.
“Truthfully, I’m still kind of thrown by the fact you appeared here during a storm,” I admit.
“Shall I lay it out for you?”
I nod once purely to play along.
“I think you’re more than gorgeous, and your flirting game is strong. I’m not looking for serious, not now. Not even casual. But a night is something I can do, and I enjoy that it’s a little more than that. Talking to you is easy.”
I study Vaughn for a solid few seconds. “I don’t want you to think that I do this all the time. I may enjoy a lot of things, but I’m not easy. Since my last relationship, I accepted that there is no sense in planning or defining lines. I’m more concerned these days about work, ensuring I’m first in line for the fresh cinnamon rolls at Jolly Joe’s, and trying to survive Hadley’s barre Pilates classes. I’m not a model or anything like that.” I feel like I’m in good shape, and I’m confident with my looks, yet still I don’t spend hours on my appearance.
This time it’s Vaughn who swipes a few strands of hair behind my ear.
“A girl who isn't afraid of breakfast pastry, you say?” Did he even hear me? “I dated models, and it’s not for me,” he adds.
I chortle and use my hands to indicate my outfit. “Great, your standard is models, and here I am before you in yoga pants and a sweatshirt.”
His dimples appear again from his wide smile. I really do love dimples. “Oh, but your sweatshirt literally says ‘A Simple Woman’ with an icon of a donut, wine, and a hockey puck with sticks. That indicates that you’re exactly the woman I need.”
My face falls into my hand where my arm is propped on the bar, slightly embarrassed by my outfit choice, but I’m having a blast. “Least it’s not my ‘I like life in the penalty box’ sweatshirt.”
His eyes grow bold. “We can make that happen.”
I search the room and see only a few people here, mostly watching the television or checking their phones. “Shouldn’t we seek safety or something?”
“We’re fine. Almost everyone is staying on the second floor, so not too high because of wind, and we’re okay from flooding even if it rains a lot.”
“You thought through all aspects, huh?”
“Even included snacks, flashlights, and bottled water,” Vaughn deadpans.
I lean in to whisper, “What a thoughtful person. So…” My voice turns awkward, as I’m not sure what is next—well, I’m aware what is next, but I’m trying not to appear too eager.
He answers for me. “Take my hand and let’s head upstairs.” His tone is straightforward. He’s past trying to persuade me; he knows that he has me. “But you might want to bring your suitcase so we can be kind citizens and let others have your room.”
Good judgment is way beyond me. I think I was committed the moment I turned to find him next to me.
Which is why I easily take his offered hand.
* * *
Quickly,I grabbed my things and checked myself in the mirror before I went to Vaughn’s room which was only a few doors down. I told the front desk they can have my room back very aware that I appeared in a rush and eager. Arriving, Vaughn lets me in with a sly smile. Behind him, I see he is watching the radar on the screen. It’s raining outside, and I notice the trees blowing, but it’s tame so far compared to the storm fronts that pass through Illinois.
Vaughn turns the TV off and throws the remote onto the bed before he strides my way with an overpowering heat in his eyes. My chest is on fire from my heart rate that’s higher than normal because I love the pure purpose that seems to have possessed him.
We bypass small talk, and he grabs the hair at the back of my head to yank me forward, a power move that tells me he has a dominant side. When his lips slam down on mine, I’m already sinking into this moment.
He kisses hard yet tantalizing, his tongue swiping into my mouth, and it’s the right amount of tickle against the tip of my tongue. A hum draws out from the back of my throat because I’m eager for his mouth to explore more. The feeling of his hands framing my face to ensure I can’t escape is a sexy move that I enjoy.
We gently part to lock our eyes and check in with one another, only for him to growl and meld our lips together. The man devours me through a kiss, and inside, my body screams more, more, more.
But I refuse to just stand here, which is why my hands begin to roam his body, searching for the bottom of his t-shirt so I can encourage us to keep moving. I tug then yank as we walk in a circle with our mouths never parting. That is, until we must, to pull his shirt up and off. I can’t help myself and lean slightly back so I can give him the once-over, and my pussy clenches from the view of his chiseled chest and stomach, and the tattoos on his shoulder and chest; a small black Celtic pattern. My fingers trail the lines of definition on his skin, biting my lip in the process because he is magnificent.
“Isla, you clearly see something you like, and I refuse to be the only one undressing here. Let’s get this off of you.” Vaughn begins to guide the fabric of my sweatshirt and tank top up, and when that’s off, his eyes laser in on my pink lace bra. I’ve always been lucky with my cleavage, a perfect C cup.
