Page 23 of Secrets and Shadows

“Don’t you haveanythingbetter to do than annoy me?”

His grin widens, and he steps closer, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “I do. But looking at you tonight…” His gaze flicks to my sleek black dress and leather corset, and I can feel the heat of his attention. “I couldn’t resist.”

There’s a spark in his eyes that could ignite a bonfire.

Fuck.

“Compliments won’t get you anywhere with me,” I snap, though my hand betrays me as it reaches for the glass in hisfingers. If I’m going to survive this encounter, I need a drink. The liquid slides down my throat with a smooth, perfect blend of bitterness and sweetness. Damn it—he has good taste.

I clear my throat, trying to regain composure despite his proximity making my pulse race. “Look, I appreciate you showing up last night,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “but that doesn’t change anything between us. We’re not friends. We never will be.” I set the glass on a nearby table.

Vaughn leans against the wall with one arm, casually trapping me in place. His intense gaze never leaves mine, and I feel my breath hitch. He’s way too close—so close that the warm scent of sandalwood clings to the air between us. Gods, he even smells good.

“I’m not looking to be your friend,” he says softly, his voice smooth but firm. He towers over me effortlessly, his messy hair falling over his forehead in that annoyingly perfect way. His dark shirt with leather accents clings to him in a way that only makes him look more dangerous—and, much to my frustration, more alluring.

“Then what are you here for?” I whisper, refusing to break eye contact. He’s the one intruding on my space, so if anyone should look away, it’s him.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Vaughn moves closer, his body nearly brushing against mine. My heart races, and though my mind screams at me to shove him away and demand he leave, I stay frozen, caught between resisting and something else—something far more confusing.

Then, without warning, he dips his head lower, and the faintest brush of his lips grazes mine. A flood of emotions surges through me—anger, desire, frustration—all wrapped up in this maddening pull he seems to have over me.

What the hell is wrong with me?

My body reacts before my mind can catch up, my fingers tangling in his dark hair with such force that I half hope I’ll pull some of it out. He deserves it. The momentary sting seems to fuel him, drawing him even closer until his entire frame blocks out the world around us.

But that’s not enough for him. With a snap of his fingers, a dark fog swirls around us, cloaking us in a misty barrier that shuts out the curious eyes beyond. As if this fog can somehow hide the shame I feel for surrendering to, quite possibly, the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.

“I despise you,” I manage to murmur against his lips, but even as the words leave my mouth, I can’t bring myself to pull away.

His hands roam over my body with a possessive touch; one settling on my hip while the other trails up my thigh, lifting with it the hem of my dress, and igniting a fire within me. Shudders run through me, making me a prisoner to this wicked sensation.

“Mm, you can keep telling yourself that, Fox,” he taunts with a low hum against my lips. Every word he speaks only fuels my irritation toward him, so I make it a point to silence him with a kiss.

My lips devour his with such ferocity that I question my own sanity. But he responds in kind, using his body to pin me further against the wall and immobilize me completely. And yet, I find myself willingly surrendering.

And the worst part is, deep down,I want this.

I want to do this.

I need a distraction, and no one distracts me quite like he does. My mind has been racing with thoughts about what really happened in the forest, but now that he’s here, all I can focus on is him. And how much I hate that I want him.

A sly smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as his hand drifts further upward, stopping right below my throbbing center. Histouch lingers there, silently questioning how far he can go. I refuse to acknowledge any gentlemanly tendencies in him and instead, roll my hips toward him, silently urging him to go further. Without hesitation, his long fingers slide beneath the thin lace of my underwear and into my wetness.

I bite back a groan, eyelids fluttering, as he prods at my sensitive entrance.

“You despise me so much… Yet you’re so damn wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“I’m not wet for you,” I bark back, gripping his hair and yanking his head backward.

He responds by letting a finger slip inside me in one slow, deliberate stroke that makes me clench around him. I tip my head back, biting my bottom lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing me moan. My body betrays me by leaning against the wall for support while I draw in a small breath to regain my composure.

Vaughn arches an eyebrow, his lips a breath away from mine, his eyes locked on my face. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

It’s obvious he’s enjoying every damn second of seeing me squirm.

Slowly, he pulls one finger out and thrusts two in, while his thumb presses against my clit. The sudden movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through me and my vision darkens.

“I said I’m not wet for you, Vaughn,” I pant, hating the breathiness in my voice. Damn it. “So, what are you going to do about it?” I challenge, done with this back-and-forth chit-chat. Vaughn is only somewhat tolerable when he’s not talking, and I prefer to keep him that way.

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