“You don’t do it on purpose,” she whispered, hating the misery in his voice. “I know you wouldn’t. But I can already feel us slipping backward, and I won’t let it happen. You have to talk to me.”
Vaughn’s thumb began to strum her belly in a way she knew wasn’t conscious, but it sent shimmering lust right to her center. Made everything hidden by her panties feel heavy. Achy. “You’re the only one I’ve ever talked to. The years I spent out of Hook? Sometimes I went days without saying a word. Why the hell would I say something you couldn’t hear, you know?”
With a vigorous twist taking place in her chest, River curled a hand in the bottom of Vaughn’s T-shirt, pulling him closer. “You told me about what happened in Afghanistan. I know it was hard, but you did it.” She went up on her toes and kissed his chin. “Tell me what’s bothering you now, and we’ll work through it together.”
Against her lips, she felt Vaughn’s jaw harden, and knew they’d hit an impasse. “I can’t change overnight, Riv. Some things are better left unsaid.”
She rocked back on her heels. “There you go being cryptic again.”
“I’m not leaving Hook. Not leaving you. That’s written in stone,” he grated, pressing her up against the car, frustration echoing through his big body, making hers sing nonetheless. “Let me take you somewhere. I’ll remind you of the way we work. One of us gets bent out of shape, and the other one smooths it out.”
“That’s how we used to work,” River breathed, trapping a moan in her throat when Vaughn dipped his head to capture her earlobe with his teeth. “I love that part of us. But I’ll go crazy without more.” With a will she hadn’t been aware of possessing, River slipped out from beneath Vaughn’s crowding frame. “Figure out if you can give it to me.”
She walked into the house on unsteady legs, feeling Vaughn’s gaze on her the whole time. But she didn’t look back, because he would see her susceptibility. And River wouldn’t allow that after the battle she’d just fought. The battle for them.
Chapter Nineteen
When Vaughn pulled up outside the motel, he couldn’t remember the drive over. He’d replayed the conversation with River so many times, he’d started saying the words out loud, responding with shit he should have said back outside the house. Apart from that one time he’d blown off dinner with her parents, he’d never seen River that pissed off. And yeah, that display of temper had gotten his dick hard, because he knew she’d put up just enough resistance in the process of getting her clothes off, the way she’d done that night on his kitchen floor so long ago.
But he hadn’t expected actual resistance. As in, “learn to communicate or go the hell home, asshole.”
The worst damn part of it? River was right. He doled out just enough of his thoughts to get what he wanted from people. But employing that same method of distance-keeping with River had been a big, shortsighted mistake. A mistake he’d been making since they’d gotten together as teenagers. One he didn’t have a damn clue how to correct, and one that couldn’t be blurred or ignored with sex.
Before she’d left him standing there gaping after her on the curb, she’d praised him for opening up about his experience overseas. Now he felt sick about letting her think he’d been honest for honesty’s sake. No, it had only been another instance of him doling out the truth. Telling River her father had given him no choice but to leave Hook—the actual reason behind his disappearing—would hurt her in an unimaginable way. And wasn’t that the reason he kept things from River to begin with? Saving her from feeling doubt or pain…or worse—the need to give him sympathy when comfort was something he didn’t understand.
There hadn’t been comfort for him growing up, only distractions. Well, that shit wasn’t going to fly anymore. By coaxing River into bed every time she tried to make things personal, he was actually pushing her away. The absolute last thing he ever wanted. Hell, being near her was the only thing worth fighting for in this life, but he’d been battling against himself.
Time to change that. Time to shatter the solo comfort zone he’d been living in and build it around his family instead. Unfortunately, doing so could sever the bond between River and the family who’d raised her, loved her, and helped her pick up the pieces when he bailed. Was he ready for that?
Vaughn climbed out of his truck and stopped, lifting an eyebrow at the polished black Mercedes parked in the motel lot. Identifying the vehicle didn’t take a private investigator, being that only one man in Hook owned a ride like that—Renner Bastion, the new factory owner. Vaughn wondered if the guy might be closed up in one of the rooms, working through some afternoon delight, but quickly disregarded the notion. Renner wouldn’t sully himself with the stink of ancient polyester.