Carly Phillips - Hot Stuff

Like last night she knocked on his door. Seconds passed that felt like forever. Finally the door opened wide and Vaughn stood before her.

"Annabelle," he said gruffly, his voice filled with longing and desire. But he didn't invite her inside.

"Can we talk?" She swallowed hard.

He nodded, his big body blocking the doorway.

"Inside," she prodded. "So we don't have an audience."

With a groan, he stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. "This is crazy," he said as he shut the door behind them. "Your uncle's upstairs."

"I'm over twenty-one," she reminded him. "Uncle Yank has no say. I respect him, but I won't let you use that as an excuse to avoid me."

"It's not an excuse. I need to earn back your uncle's respect," Vaughn said.

She reached a hand out and stroked his cheek. "I'll sneak out in the morning."

His blue eyes dilated and darkened in hue but his next words smothered her hope. "I'm not sleeping with you while your uncle's under the same roof."

She admired his chivalry and old-fashioned values. "All I want to do is share your bed." She didn't want to disrespect her family any more than he did, but she wanted to be with Vaughn. Just lying next to him would be enough.

Uh-oh.

Obviously despite her self-made promises not to get attached, there was a definite emotional component to her need.

"You can stay," he said, understanding in his expression.

She'd thought his mere presence would be enough yet as she joined him in bed and Vaughn shut the light and rolled over to go to sleep, she realized it was definitely possible to be with someone and still feel alone.

VAUGHN AWOKE to the unfamiliar sounds of someone tossing and turning. It took only a second for things to register and for him to realize it was Annabelle, murmuring fitfully in her sleep while her body jerked against his.

He might have successfully fought temptation last night, but only because he hadn't touched her. Hadn't allowed himself to connect emotionally. That was then. With her this upset even in sleep, he had no choice but to break his vow to keep his distance.

Unless he wanted to watch her suffer. He didn't.

"Annie." He reached over and pulled her tight against him, shaking her gently. "Wake up, sweetheart. You're having a bad dream."

Her head turned from side to side. "We'll be good, I promise. Don't separate us," she pleaded, then suddenly jumped up and looked around with unseeing eyes.

"Annabelle," he said softly.

She turned and focused on him.

He saw in her face the exact moment she realized where she was.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, ducking her head and not meeting his gaze. "I should go." She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her leave.

"Tell me about the dream." He brushed her hair with his hand.

She eased back into his arms and her muscles seemed to relax a little. "I've had these nightmares for as long as I can remember."

Holding her tight, her lithe body molded to his, he inhaled the fragrant scent of her hair and fought his body's response and the desire building. A desire to ease her pain the only way he knew how, to bury himself deep inside her body and make her think of nothing except him.

But even he knew better than to think sex was the answer to anyone's problems. "The dreams started when your parents died?" he asked.

"Yes. I told you I wasn't even sure Uncle Yank would take us in."

He swallowed hard. "I thought you just meant you were frightened and made that assumption."

"It was more than that. I heard the social worker tell him that if he didn't take all three of us, we'd go to foster care. Separate homes."

She swallowed a sob and he thought his heart would crack at the admission. "But your uncle kept all of you."

"And I kept an eye on my sisters. I made sure they behaved, or I tried to. I figured if we were good girls, he wouldn't send us away."

He massaged her shoulder with one hand, trying to ease a pain too ingrained for mere reassurance to touch. "Yank would never have let you be separated."

She tried to laugh, but choked instead. "I was twelve and I had no way of knowing that," she said, her voice trembling.

"Good point. And these dreams?" he asked, pushing when he should let things go.

She sighed. "They come almost nightly."

His gut told him he'd regret what he was about to say next. "But you didn't have any the first night we were together. At least not that I heard."

"You didn't reject me that night." She drew a deep breath and rolled over to meet his gaze. "Look, I'm not trying to give you a guilt trip, it's just fact," she said, her tone earnest. "But last night you let me stay because I begged. You didn't want me here and I'm sure the dream came back because in my heart, I knew that."

He winced, his gut churning, his emotions too wrapped up with this woman. "I want you here. It's just that it's complicated."

A soft smile curved her lips. "Welcome to my world."

He couldn't help but laugh and at that moment, the alarm clock Annabelle had set the night before went off, signaling it was time for her to leave before her uncle or Lola woke up, ventured downstairs and found them together.

"Saved by the bell," Annabelle murmured and once again tried to roll away, this time to rise for the day.

Though he should have let her go, he allowed his heart to overrule his head. "Annabelle?" he said, pulling her back.

"Yes?"

He sucked in a deep breath, "Don't ever doubt I want you. Here. In bed with me."

She deserved to know that truth and not have old insecurities resurrected because he had his own anxieties, he thought. He laughed, shaking his head.

"What's so funny?"

He groaned. "I am. Or should I say, life is. So, same time, same place tonight?" He extended the invitation despite himself.

She answered with a huge smile and a kiss. Her lips came down on his and parted immediately, her tongue slipping deep inside his mouth. The kiss spoke of suppressed need and longing, of an emotional yearning.

And damned if he didn't respond to that. All rational thought fled and he rolled her over until his body covered hers and then he took control of the inferno between them. Or so he thought until her hand slipped into the waistband of his boxers and unerringly found him, hard, erect and wanting her.

He eased to his side, giving her better access and she curled her hand around him and began the perfect up and down gliding motion, imitating the act of him pumping into her body as they made love. He let out a strangled groan, feeling his climax building fast. His eyes shut tight and he lost track of his surroundings. All he was aware of was the incredible friction she created and the warm, rhythmic contractions pummeling his body relentlessly until he came in a scalding hot climax that left him spent and shaken.

And when he opened his eyes to deal with what had just transpired between them, he saw Annabelle leaving, the door to his room closing silently behind her.

SHOWERED AND DRESSED for the day, Annabelle made her way to the kitchen, both Boris and Spike trailing at her feet. She refused to think about her talk with Vaughn or what his face had looked like in the throes of climax, or to even analyze things too deeply. Including how she'd taken control and perhaps even advantage of him, despite knowing he was conflicted and had labeled her in his mind as complicated. What in life wasn't?

Her stomach grumbled. Cereal and milk was something she could make for breakfast without much effort. Expecting to be alone, she stopped short upon seeing her uncle sitting at the kitchen table. He held the newspaper up in front of him, first moving it to arm's length, then directly in front of his eyes, before growling in frustration and tossing the paper across the table.