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.
"What's wrong?" Annabelle asked, joining him. "Did your favorite horse lose an important race?"
"I'm losing something," he muttered cryptically.
She narrowed her gaze. "What's going on with you?" She placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"What makes you think something's wrong?"
"You're crankier than usual for one thing."
He snorted. "And Lola's not?"
"We aren't talking about Lola, and it's not Lola I'm worried about. It's you."
"I'm fine." He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, defiant and angry.
"Bull," she said, walking over to his chair and staring him in the eye. "You're keeping something from me. That I can handle. I'll figure it out soon enough. But you're being mean and nasty to Lola and I'm not going to stand for it."
"Damn women. You always stick together."
She pursed her lips tight. "This isn't a gender thing. By siding with Lola, I'm siding with you. She's good for you and I don't want to see you drive her away. You need her."
"I don't-"
Annabelle waved away his final words with a sweep of her hand. "Be careful what you wish for or you'll end up alone," she said, voicing her biggest fear.
Except in this case she wasn't projecting. Uncle Yank's bad behavior threatened the one person who'd kept him sane all these years. She didn't want him to suffer.
But he remained stubbornly silent. "Okay, if you don't want to talk about it, we won't." She pulled a bowl from the cabinet, Special K from the pantry, and skim milk from the refrigerator and proceeded to make herself breakfast. "Want some?" she asked him.
He shook his head. "I had coffee."
She glanced at the full mug in his hand and the empty canister on the table with the word Salt inscribed on it. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, wondering whether to mention his error or not.
Finally she said, "Did you pour salt in by mistake?"
"It's not my fault the damn stuff is side by side on the counter," he said defensively and glanced away not meeting her gaze.
She frowned and without further discussion, made him a fresh cup of coffee without being asked. Then she settled in to eat her now soggy cereal.