“You’re right. There’s nothing comforting about what happens when we touch, is there?” His thumb brushed her nipple, and she jerked between his body and the car, sucking air in between her teeth. “Will you settle for wet and worked up?”
River had no time to respond because Vaughn tilted his head a few degrees, those deep, brown eyes blazing, and went in for the kill. The impact of the kiss didn’t occur just at her mouth. No, she felt it square in the chest, deep in her midsection, closing in from all sides. Every single component of her being rose like a tiny phoenix and clamored toward the man who’d awakened her once upon a time, each ready to beg for another round. All of that took place with their mouths fused close, so tight, but not moving. And when Vaughn’s sturdy frame shuddered and he widened his lips along with hers, teasing the tips of their tongues together, her center of gravity tilted and dropped, right along with her belly.
He pulled back. “Your scar is beautiful,” he said, his low declaration shimmying through her fingers and toes.
And then he invaded her mouth like he owned it, like he’d never been gone, not for a second—as if they’d been suspended within the kiss for four years, just waiting to proceed. His hand closed around her breast, the opposite arm tightening at her lower back, pulling her against him. They groaned into the contact, thighs shifting in restless, writhing motions against one another, mouths beginning to move with feverish intent.
A jagged warning slashed in River’s head when his hips began to roll, one booted foot edging between hers to widen her stance. So he could take her outside, in broad daylight? Ahhh. Heat rushed between her legs, preparing, even as common sense attempted to intrude, reminding her a coworker could emerge at any moment. A car could—
Vaughn changed tactics, giving her a gasp-inducing upthrust, elevating her against the car, rocking the vehicle as he growled. “I don’t know what to do with this fucking urge, Riv.” His words were agonized against her swollen mouth. “It’s like my body needs to thank yours for bearing our child. Just want to get between those legs and give. Give.”
River’s vision doubled before everything swooped back together. Reality was unwelcome when her body sang for more touching, more touching from this specific man, because apparently her hormones and her heart didn’t regularly communicate. And forget common sense—that traitor had taken a vacation. “No. No, Vaughn.” It took an effort to squirm free of his determined grip, but when she finally managed it, her hand moved of its own accord, cracking against Vaughn’s cheek. Any other time, she would have been shocked by her own violence, but anger built with a vengeance, leaving room for nothing else. When she spoke, her voice was whisper-thin. “How dare you kiss me like that?”
“Riv…”
She could see the scene play out behind his eyes, although she only knew it from her own point of view: Vaughn, dead-eyed and unfeeling, turning his back on her and walking out, leaving her in the motel room—their motel room—where she hadn’t moved until the manager booted her out two days later. Not that he knew it. Not that she would tell him. She didn’t need to. Not with the meaning behind her question hanging in the air like rotten fruit. How dare you kiss me like that when you left me shattered, without even glancing back over your shoulder?
He would walk away from their child without looking back, too.
When shame began to filter into his expression, River turned away, walking on shaky legs toward the bumper. “I don’t need to be thanked. I don’t want it either. Being a mother to her has been all the reward I need.” She took a deep breath and met his hooded gaze. “But I’ll make you a deal.”
His throat muscles shifted. “Do I want to hear this?”
She ignored his question, focusing on the dull thump of her heartbeat. “I’ll let you meet Marcy. But only if you leave town afterward and don’t come back.”
Chapter Five
A significant part of Vaughn had hoped the Third Shift, Hook’s resident dive bar, would have bitten the dust by now. But no. The scene of countless fistfights—starring him—still hung on by a thread, neon signs flickering in the window. Yeah, he’d thrown so many punches in the place, he’d earned the distinct honor of Hook’s first banned customer. That title had been bestowed the year before he’d joined the army, when he’d spent countless nights propped on a creaky stool, attempting to deaden the guilt over keeping River as his girlfriend. Those evenings she’d been taking night classes at the closest junior college? secure in the rightness of her course.