She shut the bathroom door and peeled out of her sweatshirt and leggings and left them in a pile on the floor. There would be no saving the sweatshirt, stained with blood and mud and ripped at the elbows as it was, but the leggings might have a shot. One knee was ripped, but they were black, so they didn’t show any stains. She took a moment to wash them out in the sink and hang them to dry over the towel bar.
As she crossed to the shower, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink and winced. No wonder she ached everywhere. She was a giant bruise. The seatbelt strap had left an outline of itself across her chest in a bright purple and black streak.
Vaughn’s pin still hung on the chain around her neck, bright against her abused skin. She rubbed it. She should probably give it back, but she still couldn’t bring herself to part with it.
Sighing at herself, she pulled the chain off and set it on the counter, then started the shower.
The water felt amazing. She tilted her head back and let it rain over her face, groaning at the pure bliss of it.
This was heaven.
The curtain scraped open, startling her out of her shower-induced daze, and Vaughn stepped into the tub behind her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he didn’t give her a chance. He swallowed her squeak of surprise, his mouth hot and hard and demanding on hers. She pressed her hands to his bare chest with every intention of shoving him away, but she couldn’t do it. Not when his kisses sparked such heat inside her, warming her faster than the hot water had.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. It was all so overwhelming, the way she imagined drowning might feel—panic, then resignation, then a weird giddiness.
He kissed her thoroughly. One moment, he was taking his time, nibbling at her lips, caressing her mouth with his tongue. And the next, he devoured her as if desperate for the taste of her.
When they finally broke apart for air, he growled and went in for another kiss and another and another. “I hate that I want you.”
“Then why do you keep kissing me?”
He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, but the harsh gesture was softened by the spark of pure lust in his blue eyes. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Because I can’t fucking stop.”
His next kiss was an attack, one she welcomed and returned with fervor as she pulled him closer and let him crowd her against the shower wall. Vaughn hated her for her lies, but he also wanted her—and that made him safe. His heart wasn’t involved, so she’d only hurt his pride when she finally escaped him and disappeared again. And she would eventually have to run again, despite her claims she was done. She’d never be able to stop. She wished she could make him understand that.
But right now, this one time, she could use her body for her own pleasure. For once, sex wouldn’t have to be a survival tactic. She could pretend she was still Lark Warren and just be with the man who, against all odds, had managed to snag her heart.
He lifted his lips off hers. “Let me wash you.”
She nodded, unable to formulate words.
He grabbed the tiny complimentary shampoo and squirted some in his hands, then rubbed it into her hair. Soap slid down her body in a caress almost as intimate as his hand. She shivered. He spread the bubbles over her shoulders, down her arms, and finally cupped her breasts in both hands. His eyes were blue fire as he watched her nipples peak under the caress of his thumbs. It was all so sexy, and she couldn’t stand still a moment longer—she had to touch him, too. She found the bottle of shampoo and used it on him, dragging her fingers through his dark, roguishly long hair. When she’d met him at Jude and Libby’s wedding, his hair had been short, cut similarly to his twin’s, but she liked it better long. It suited him.
His cock twitched against her belly, demanding attention. She raked her nails down his chest and stomach to palm the straining length of him.
He braced one hand on the wall behind her, pressed his forehead against hers, and pumped into her grip. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You keep doing that and I’m going to come all over you.”
“So?”
He grasped her wrist and made her stop. “I want inside you.”
If she’d had any chance of resisting him, it disappeared with those words. “Yes.”
“Turn around.”
She did as he asked and heard the curtain rustle, felt him leave the shower for a second. She glanced over her shoulder as he returned, watched him take himself in hand and roll on a condom. Then he gripped her hip and drew her back toward him. He didn’t enter her, instead stroked her slit with the flared head of his cock in a teasing caress, penetrating just enough to drive her crazy. She wanted more of him and tilted her hips, pushing against him, trying to urge him deeper, but he squeezed her hip, stilling her.
“Not yet,” he breathed in her ear.