Isabelle squeezed her tight in a big hug. “Have I ever told you how glad I am that you’re back from New York?” Then the two of them headed back over to join the men, who were talking by Simon’s car.
“I heard a rumor that an e-mail went out to people about the bachelor party,” Simon was saying.
“Sure did,” Vaughn said.
“On a scale of one to ten, how worried do I need to be about whatever you have planned?”
Vaughn dismissed this with a wave. “Pfft. Like a two.”
Simon raised an eyebrow. “Your idea of a two or mine?”
“I guess you’ll find out.”
Seeing Isabelle and Sidney approaching, Simon smiled. “Everything okay?”
“Yep, we’re good,” Isabelle said. Both she and Simon said their good-byes, climbed into his car, and the two of them were off.
Sidney leaned against her own car, watching as Simon and her sister pulled away. When they were gone, she exhaled and looked around at the picturesque wide green lawn and the elegant white mansion.
“Is it tough being here?” Vaughn asked, moving to stand next to her against the car.
She debated whether to answer that. “It brings back some memories I’d rather not think about.”
He nodded. They stood there for a moment, and then he looked at her. “How many of those dresses do you have, anyway?”
“Why? What’s wrong with my dresses?”
“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with them.” His eyes traveled over her. “Not at all.” He seemed to debate something for a moment, then he moved and put his hands on each side of Sidney, trapping her against the car.
She eyed her position. “What are you doing?”
He bent his head, his words low and smooth. “Let’s just say, I know a really good way to get you thinking about something other than those unwanted memories.”
“You’re shameless,” Sidney said. Although her pulse had already begun to quicken, having him this close.
His devilish smile was his answer.
• • •
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Sidney dug her fingers into the smooth gray suede of Vaughn’s sectional couch as he pumped hard into her from behind.
“Tilt your hips back. Take me deeper,” he said in a guttural voice.
She angled her hips toward him, and moaned at the exquisite feel of having him so hard and thick inside her.
“Good . . . just like that, baby. Christ, I could f**k you forever,” he rasped.
Bracing her hands against the couch, she thrust back against him. Yes, she needed this after today. Right then, there was no thinking about the past, no worrying about the future—just wild, raw sex that made her feel good. She and Vaughn had started kissing in the stairwell of his apartment building, and by the time they’d gotten inside his loft, they’d both been so turned on they’d hadn’t even bothered to remove their clothes. Instead, he’d just bent her forward over the couch, pushed up her skirt and yanked down her underwear, and thrust deep into her with his own jeans unzipped around his hips.
She closed her eyes and gave into the sinfully erotic sensations washing over her. “Touch me,” she murmured, needing his hands on her.
“Stand up,” he said huskily, pausing to help guide her up. When she was partially upright, with his c**k still buried inside her, he reached around and shoved down the sleeves of her dress. Next, he pulled down the cups of her bra. “Let me see those gorgeous br**sts.”
Her ni**les tightened instantly in anticipation as she clenched between her legs. He slid one hand lower, to her clit. She gasped as he began to tease her, using his fingers to spread her open. When he slowly began thrusting inside her once again, she moaned so loud she feared the neighbors would hear. The feeling was so exquisitely incredible, all she could do was grip the back of the couch and hold on for the ride.
“Give me your mouth,” he said, in a grit-edged growl.
She turned her head, her lips parting as his mouth took hers in a searing kiss, his tongue swirling around hers. She rocked her hips and started coming, a slow build that peaked so hard she cried out against him. Her legs quivered, but he held her, supporting her until she was steady on her feet once again.
She opened her eyes and saw that he was looking at her with a warm, wicked gaze.
“Again?” he asked.
Criminy.
Nineteen
VAUGHN CAME OUT of the bathroom and found Sidney propped up against the pillows on his bed, looking at something on her phone.
“Already checking e-mail?” he teased. Not that it bothered him—the woman ran a four-billion-dollar private equity fund. Safe to say she was going to have to check her messages on weekends.
“Mmm,” she said distractedly.
Vaughn pulled on his boxer briefs and jeans. “Everything okay?”
She peered up at him, frowning. “What does it mean if a guy e-mails you four times in one day, and then waits a week before e-mailing again? Is he busy at work, or is he playing games?”
Vaughn stared at her. “You’re e-mailing another guy? My God, woman, the condom’s still warm in the wastebasket.”
She gave him a look. Ha, ha. “I wasn’t e-mailing another guy, I was checking for work messages. I just happened to see this other e-mail, too.” She got out of bed and strutted by him, to where her underwear lay on the floor. “And don’t act as though you’re offended. Remember, you’re”—she dropped her voice, imitating him—“‘always upfront about not looking for a long-term commitment. But if you want a good time, then I’m your man, baby.’”