Page 71 of Legacy of Danger
Chapter 18
Vaughn remained wide awake, fully clothed, and firmly on top of the blankets. This whole evening, from offering to accompany Mariah to the Brand ranch to helping her deal with the memories of her past to sitting mere inches away from her as she slept, hadbad decisionwritten all over it. He couldn't sleep if he wanted to. His stomach rumbled, and his power rumbled right along with it, needing to continuously seek out and destroy any danger to Mariah.
The glow from other homes nearby filtered through the window shades, stippling her skin in shadow and light. A cold wind picked up, at times creating both a light whisper and a menacing growl outside.
Her light breathing trailed like nails skimming over his soul. The tiny noises she made in her sleep airmailed inappropriate ideas to his groin. Damn it, he needed to think about something else. Anything else.
Then, with all this time on his hands, he did the singular worst thing possible.
He took stock of his life.
The grand plan to swoop into Copper River, bail his family out of their troubles, and then blast back out of town, never to be seen again? That simple strategy was crumbling under his feet.
What about the training for his upcoming bout in two—he squinted at the glowing clock digits; make that one—day? The hollowness in his gut ached. He had no idea how close he was to making weight this evening. He might lose this fight before it started.
What about his life in New York? He had the beginnings of a plum job picking stocks, and he had every intention of riding that gravy train as far as it would go. But the job would only wait so long for him.
Man, he had everything he wanted back there. Money, MMA training, fight opportunities, and freedom. No one judged him for his black past. He didn't have to deal with family responsibilities in New York. And best of all, no freakin' monster or whatever the hell that thing was.
What about his so-called noble gesture to provide comfort and security to Mariah after the visit to the Brands unearthed all her demons? He focused on the breaths of the woman on the bed next to him, and a new hunger grew inside of him. Inappropriate. Way beyond "just friends," too. How noble was he now?
Judging by a hard-on that could hammer nails, yeah, he had failed to keep his intentions chaste. He shifted in a feeble attempt to relieve pressure. When she sighed again in her sleep, his balls tightened even more, ready for action.
He ran a finger over the silk of her hair, spread out over the pillow, exactly as he'd imagined.
He was screwed.
That was the problem, wasn't it? For a guy with the ability to dodge danger, he sure kept walking into emotional minefields. Good intentions followed by bad decisions, and in the end, he still hurt everyone.
Vaughn Taggart. Like the Great Wall of China, he was such a big fuckup that he was probably visible from outer space.
He had gotten way too close to Mariah, a woman who deserved more than he could ever provide. Not with his past and not with his plans.
A future with her hadnot gonna happenwritten all over that idea.
He let his head roll back against the backboard. Studying the ceiling didn't help. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her terrified face and feel her slight weight nestled perfectly against his chest as they sat in the truck. Shit.
He stroked her arm. It wasn't enough to watch her; he needed the physical connection as a tether for his own sanity.
How had this happened? They had met—if you could call it that—only six days ago when she saved Shelby and Eric's lives.
His own personal interest included a tangible need to lay her out naked on a bed and work her over until every part of her body glistened with sweat and desire and every inch of her skin quivered at his touch. Of course that sounded swell. But his desire went way past the physical. He didn't want purely sexual. He wanted to surround and protect her both physically and with his power.
Did he care to explore that complex set of emotions further?
Fuck, no.
She made a tiny whimper, and he cursed to himself, loosening the grip that had tightened on her arm. Rolling halfway from him, she grabbed his big hand in her smaller ones and tugged his arm over her chest.
He moved with her, not willing to wake her up, scooting down the bed until her body tucked in to his—butt to groin, back to chest. With the blankets between them, of course. The two small hands now locked around his wrist felt like the best shackles in the universe.
Only because it was convenient and more comfortable, he bent his head forward, burying his nose and mouth in her hair. He inhaled mint and a vibrant feminine scent uniquely Mariah and relaxed. Being near her calmed him as if he were some pacing lion and she the tamer.
He fought the urge, but after a few minutes, he drifted into a blessed, dreamless sleep.
* * *
A large, heavy mass prevented her from moving.
