Every Little Thing
Page 93

 Samantha Young

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She smacked his arm, laughing. “Stop it!”
“You’re laughing,” he argued.
“But I’m being serious.”
“Bailey, your vagina is not going to break from overuse. It might get a little sore . . .” He grinned, taking a perverse kind of pleasure in the idea of “overusing” her.
“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
He had a flash memory of the night before and how hard she’d come while he fucked her with her hands tied to the bedposts. “Yes.”
She didn’t respond to that. “You can’t help with Dahlia but thank you for offering.”
“You’re welcome. As for two: Vanessa is still staying at the Grand and partying at Germaine’s. That seems to be the extent of her social life at the moment.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on things.” He reached over to squeeze her knee and instantly regretted it because all he wanted to do was slide his hand up her skirt. Seriously, the woman had him hornier than a schoolboy.
Patience.
He withdrew his hand. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or the inn.”
“I know. Thank you for that, too.”
“Again you’re welcome. Now. About three.” He shot her a look and saw her tense. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he admitted, marveling at how much easier it got daily to be honest with her about his feelings. “I feel that way, too. I’m not saying that I’m going to change overnight, because I’ve spent my whole life working too hard and I imagine it’s not going to be an easy habit to break. But I want to see you.” He shot her another look and found her smiling at him. “A lot. You know, I’ve never taken two evenings in a row off work before.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“A very good sign. We just need to take each day as it comes; try and work this thing out.”
“But now at least I know we’re on the same page,” Bailey said. “We both want to see each other more.”
Vaughn’s chest swelled with deepening emotion at the giddy, glamorous smile on her face. It felt like he’d waited forever to be the man she smiled at that way.
“So.” She wiggled in her seat and brushed her hand over the dash of his Aston Martin. “Where are you taking me in this beautiful car?”
“The movies.”
She was quiet a moment. “Um . . . the movies are back that way. You know . . . in town.”
He smirked, enjoying the little game he was playing. “The movies in Hartwell are back that way. We’re not going to the movies in Hartwell.”
“Why not?”
“Because the movies at the mall are better.”
“But farther away.”
He grinned at her growing confusion. “This is a nice night for a drive.”
“And a nice car,” she conceded. “A very nice car.”
“Do you want one?”
“What?” Bailey squeaked.
Vaughn swallowed his laughter. “Only joking.” Kind of.
“Don’t do that. You gave me heart failure.” He felt her sudden scrutiny. “You know I’m not after your money, right?”
“Yes. I think it was the constant hostility for three years that gave you away.”
She chuckled. “I like this you.”
Contentment coursed through him. “I’m glad to hear it.”
A half hour later, after discovering they had similar taste in music, they pulled up to the mall outside Johnstown.
“It’s busy tonight.” She unbuckled her seat belt.
“I got you.” He got out of the car and hurried around to her side to open the door. She gave him that huge, beautiful smile as he held out his hand to help her out of the low-sitting supercar. “What?”
“You’re such a gentleman.” She moved into him, drawing circles on his chest with her fingertips and sending blood rushing straight to his dick. “It’s very hot, Mr. Tremaine.”
All in good time, he reminded himself. Vaughn captured her wrists and gave her a tight smile. “Not here.”
Disappointment clouded her expression and he had to remind himself that she wouldn’t be disappointed in ten minutes’ time.
Taking her hand he led her into the mall. There were still a lot of people milling around, especially teenagers, and when they arrived at the movie theater it was no different.
Vaughn searched the movie listing.
“What are we going to see?”
He deduced that Bailey would know more about today’s teens than he did. “What film would you least want to see if you were fifteen?”
She frowned at the question but turned to study the listings anyway. A few seconds later she pronounced, “The French one with subtitles.”
“The French one with subtitles it is then.”
“What?”
They were next in line and Vaughn bought two tickets for the foreign movie.
“Why are we going to see this?” Bailey hissed.
“It sounds interesting,” he lied. He wasn’t a foreign movie kind of guy. In all honesty he wasn’t a movie kind of guy, period. But he wasn’t here for the actual film.
Holding her hand, he led her down the hall past the theaters that were showing movies Bailey might enjoy seeing. “Here we are.”