Page 82 of Scarred Souls

Coming to my senses, I bucked against him. “You’re a pig. You don’t get to play with me like this anymore. We’re done.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Vaughn’s grin vanished, and something shifted in his eyes. “We’re not done until I say so.”

Then his lips crashed against mine.

30

VAUGHN

Hope fought like a wild woman beneath me, but her mouth moved against mine, meeting my advances lash for lash.

What the fuck was I doing?

I didn’t kiss. Ever. At least not since returning from Venezuela. Although you could hardly call this fierce clashing of lips, teeth, and tongues a kiss. This? This was a raw, highly charged venting of pent-up sexual energy. It didn’t feel like any kiss I’d ever had. It felt like we were going to war, battling for dominance with our lips.

Hope’s tongue invaded my mouth, seeking more. Then the little minx bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

Surprised, I pulled back and took in her flushed cheeks, heated eyes, and crimson-stained lips. She’d never been more beautiful.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I said, looking down upon her with bewilderment.

“I hate you,” she growled with murder in her eyes.

“Liar. The only thing you hate is that you want me.”

“Shut up, you son of a bitch.” She yanked my mouth back to hers in another bruising kiss.

I didn’t notice I’d released Hope’s hands until she dug them into my hair, the only safe place for them. She clutched the strands like she never wanted to let go. And fuck me, I didn’t want her to. If she needed me to stop, all she had to do was push against the scars on my chest and the spell would be broken.

I wanted to touch and taste her everywhere. I wanted to tear her clothes off and shove my face between her thighs. I wanted to make her come over and over again, and then I wanted to hear her beg me to fuck her. If she ever uttered those sweet words, I’d lose myself in her pussy for days.

This woman made me feel things when I couldn’t afford to feel anything. She was driving me crazy.

We had to stop this. Which begged the question: why hadn’t Hope forced me away already?

I broke off the kiss and reared back. We shared a brief moment, staring at each other in shock over what had just happened.

As if a priest had caught us fucking on a church altar, Hope’s eyes went wide, and her fingers quickly untangled from my hair. Then she slapped my face so hard the sound left my ear ringing.

“Get away from me,” she hissed, chest heaving.

I rubbed my tingling jaw. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

Outrage flashed in her eyes before she quickly masked it with contempt.

“First, you and I are going to have a little talk, and if you’re thinking about slapping me again, you should know that your violent side is a real turn-on and I won’t hold myself accountable for whatever happens after. Understood?”

Her nostrils flared. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s funny, because I could’ve sworn your tongue was trying to communicate something just now.”

Her cheeks reddened. “Lapse of judgment. What’s your excuse?”

“Temporary insanity of the dick.”

Hope scoffed and turned her head, so I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger and forced her eyes back to mine. “Let me spell this out clearly, you stubborn, infuriating woman. I am not your enemy. I am not going to hurt you or put you in danger. Ever. I’m working undercover, doing jobs for la Mano Roja to get intel. I don’t like it, but once we take down the PCC, I can leave it all behind. For now, I’ll do whatever ugly things I have to do to bring the trafficking victims home and end the cartel.”

She bared her teeth. “Including handing me over to Carlos.”

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