Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

His intention was to go directly to the inn.

But it seemed providence was on his side because as soon as he stepped a foot onto the boardwalk he caught sight of a familiar redhead in his peripheral.

Bailey strolled down the boardwalk from the direction of Emery’s.

Blood rushed in his ears as Vaughn stalked toward her watching her eyes grow round at the sight of him coming at her. “Tremaine, what—whoa!” She startled when he took hold of her upper arm. “What are you doing?”

“We need to talk,” he said. Impatient was now an understatement. He’d never felt such a burning sense of urgency in his life.

“Okay, so let’s talk.” She pushed at his hand but he didn’t let go. “We can talk without the manhandling.”

“We need to talk in private.”

“Has something happened—ah, where are we going?” she asked as he stole her off course to the inn and into his hotel instead. “Can you slow down and tell me what the hell is going on? I haven’t seen you in days and the first time I do you accost me in the middle of the boardwalk, literally jerk me around, and haul me into your hotel and I’m just supposed to—”

“Bailey, usually the rambling is fucking cute, but can you just shut up this one time?” He was trying to work out in his head what it was he was going to say to her once he got her in his penthouse. They stopped at the elevators and she pulled at his hold.

“Vaughn.”

What were the right words? Were there right words? There had to be right words . . .

“Vaughn.” This time she moved into him, and his whole being came alive at the sensation of her soft curves pressed against his hard body.

“Your staff and guests are looking,” she whispered, her gaze appeasing. “Why don’t you let me go and I’ll promise to come upstairs with you. And while you consider that, why don’t you think about how much my having to ask you that makes you sound like a kidnapping bastard?”

Her words pierced through his single-minded determination to tell her how he felt. His grip on her eased and he found himself smirking at her teasing. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured.

Bailey’s lips parted in surprise, and her voice sounded a little breathy when she told him, “Maybe I shouldn’t be alone with you after all.”

The elevator doors opened and Vaughn placed a possessive hand on her lower back. “Or you definitely should.” He led her inside, grateful for the guests who joined them. If he’d been alone in the elevator with her, he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands off her. And she knew it. He sensed it in her appraisal, in the way her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and in the flush high on her cheeks.

Attraction raged as hot as ever between them.

Vaughn needed to keep it together long enough to tell her how he felt.

When the elevator emptied they were alone. Holding on to the last measure of his control he stopped himself from reaching for her, placed his key card in the panel by the door, and pressed the button for the top floor.

Bailey jumped out as soon as the elevator doors pinged open.

Vaughn directed her down the corridor to his penthouse. He held the door open for her, watching her face as she absorbed the space. The first thing she did was walk over to the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the ocean.

“Wow,” she said. “This is beautiful.”

So are you.

As if she heard him Bailey whirled around. “What am I doing here?”

He found himself moving toward her, unable to stop, needing to touch her. It was inexplicable how much he was feeling now that he’d given himself permission to feel it.

“Don’t.” Her lips trembled invitingly.

“Don’t what?” He continued toward her.

“Look at me like that. I’ve warned you about that smolder.”

Amusement, tenderness, love . . . need filled him. “I can’t help it when it comes to you.”

“Holy hell,” she muttered. “Vaughn . . .” She closed her eyes for a brief second. When she opened them they blazed with anger. “It’s not fair. Why does it have to be you?”