CHAPTER 3
Will
Vaughn was good, I’d give him that. The briefest flicker of surprise, maybe unease, and then the same quiet, disinterested expression I’d seen on his face when Oakley came up to him at the party and asked about the Staunton. That he was giving it to me made me angry, and it shouldn’t have. He should have been distancing himself from me. He should have been doing everything a criminal does when the law eventually catches up with them.
Because that’s what he was. Despite his gorgeous historic home, despite the way he looked in a suit, despite the drop in my stomach when I’d shown up and thought this isn’t his wedding, is it?, Amory Vaughn was a criminal. A thief who’d stolen a valuable painting and delivered it, with a note, to the home of an FBI agent.
Not just any FBI agent either. “My name, Mr. Vaughn, is Special Agent Will Fox. I’m with the FBI’s Art Crimes Division. So you can, I’m sure, see the predicament here.”
Only there shouldn’t be one. I should be arresting him. I should have done it the second I showed up, not eaten his food and given him the time to see to his guests.
“The Art Crimes Division,” Vaughn said, sounding spectacularly unconcerned. “So you’re more than just an appreciator of art, then. You’re a defender.”
I stared at him, weighing my words as carefully as I always did. As carefully as I should have the night of Oakley’s party. “It’s my duty to recover stolen works of art and see that the perpetrators are punished to the fullest extent of the law.”
“I heard once that art is often reported stolen for the insurance money,” Vaughn said conversationally, as if we were having this discussion over drinks.
“People steal for a lot of reasons,” I said stiffly. “And they’re all illegal.”
Vaughn cocked his head and regarded me with those pale eyes. The night we’d met they’d been warm, teasing. They were neither at the moment. His gaze was steady and cool, calculating. I could see him trying to get out of this, and for reasons I didn’t want to think about, my cock twitched. I wanted so very badly to ask him how he’d managed to steal it.
“And has Mr. Oakley reported his painting missing? How do you know it’s not because he’s a terrible investor of other people’s money and needs a quick infusion of cash?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. But I was still annoyed he’d gotten the sound out of me at all. “Mr. Vaughn, please. Do you think this is my first day on the job?”
He gave me a slow once-over, just like he’d done at the party. My reaction was the same, only tinged with anger instead of awkwardness. Maybe more than tinged. The anger and the overwhelming attraction for this man that I couldn’t deny combined to make my blood heat.
“I would imagine it isn’t, William.”
“It’s Agent Fox,” I corrected. No one ever called me William, even my parents. In the back of my mind I heard his voice, warm and drowsy and thrumming with sexual promise. The pleasure was all mine, William. “Keith Oakley is out of town, and his finances are not your concern, Mr. Vaughn. His painting, on the other hand…”
“So you’re here to, what, arrest me?” Vaughn smiled at me in obvious challenge. The son of a bitch was enjoying this. “I don’t see any cuffs.”
“I’m a federal agent. What you’ve done is a serious crime, Mr. Vaughn, and it would be a good idea for you to remember that.”
“Would it?” Vaughn didn’t look in the least bit worried, but I wasn’t buying it. I’d seen that momentary flash of surprise when I’d shown my badge.
The only thing that had kept me from arresting Vaughn was the fact that Keith Oakley hadn’t technically reported the painting as stolen yet. According to his assistant, he was out of town for the next two weeks. But it was a technicality and I knew it; all I needed was probable cause, and I had that in spades.
“It would,” I said. I glanced around the elegant, well-appointed study and my eyes touched on the paintings displayed on the walls. They weren’t the kind I normally enjoyed: stuffy portraits of old-fashioned, wealthy white men on horses and the like. Less art than narcissism. I glanced back at Vaughn.
There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he said, “These paintings are all portraits of my esteemed ancestors, I assure you, William. I’m happy to put you in touch with Miranda at the Virginia Historical Society if you’d like to review their provenance.”
“What I’d like?” I glared at him, my feelings about being duped by someone I’d felt a genuine connection with momentarily overtaking my professionalism. “What I’d like, Vaughn, is to not be here at all. What I’d like is for you to stop trying to play me and realize that I am holding all the cards, and you are facing a charge of grand theft larceny.”
“William, William,” he tsked, shaking his head. “You don’t admit you’re holding all the cards if you want to win the game.”
Anger sluiced through me, and I took a step forward. I was not a threatening man, though I was trained to be one if I needed to. “This isn’t a game, Vaughn.”
He didn’t move away. It was a strange reversal of the night we’d met, when he’d moved so boldly into my personal space. “Of course it is,” he said softly, a hint of something strange flickering across his striking features. “If you don’t want to be here,” he continued, “then you’re free to leave.”
“That’s the thing,” I said, ignoring how good he smelled, that sharp citrus-and-woodsy smell mixed with the fresh outdoors. “The person who can’t leave isn’t me.”
“Am I making a run for it? Resisting arrest?”
He reached up, and I reacted on instinct, grabbing his wrist. “Don’t touch me.”
“No?” Vaughn didn’t move, but his fair skin flushed, and his eyes began to thaw like melted ice. “You seemed to like my touching you a great deal the night we met. When I kissed you. When I shoved my hand in your pants and stroked your hard cock until you were writhing against the wall.”
Goddamn it. My breathing came faster, and I still held Vaughn’s wrist. We were standing too close together, and I couldn’t seem to push him away even though I knew I should. He was a few inches taller than I was, but lanky. I had muscle on my side, and years of training…and yet I did nothing but stand there.
Vaughn was relentless. “When I played with your dick and you fucked my hand until you were so turned on you would have done anything. When I swallowed your gorgeous cock, on my knees in public, and you came down my throat so hard you almost screamed for me.”
Two things happened at once. I pulled him closer without meaning to, and he moved to press himself against me. I was hard, and I could feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal against my thigh. But I wasn’t turned on as much as I was angry—or maybe that was why I was turned on.
I forced him backward, toward the large desk beneath the windows. Night had fallen, but I could see the glimmering fairy lights from the tent, twinkling like stars beyond the dark glass. “Let me explain something to you, Amory. I’m very good at my job, and no matter how good you are at sucking cock, it won’t stop me from doing it if I need to.”
This time when he reached for me, I didn’t stop him. He tilted my chin up, which was both infuriating and erotic. “Then arrest me, Agent Fox. Go on.” He was practically purring.
“Amory Vaughn,” I started, trapping him against the desk, my body on fire with want and my heart pulsing like I’d just run a marathon, “you’re—”
Infuriating. Attractive. And I want you so goddamn bad.
“I’m what, William?” He was breathing fast too, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes hot. He leaned back with absolute insolence, palms flat on the desk, deceptively at ease.
Under arrest. I couldn’t say it. Instead, I made a frustrated sound and grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulled him close and kissed him. The kiss said everything I couldn’t—How dare you be what I want and what I can’t have? How dare you play with me like you know you’ll get away with it just because of who you are? How dare I want to let you just because you feel so good against me?—and I found myself reaching down to rub the bulge in his pants as we kissed.
Vaughn shuddered hard and groaned into my mouth, his hands coming up to grab my shoulders. He pulled away and tried to say something, but I wouldn’t let him. I chased his mouth with my own, biting hard on his lower lip as I struggled to get his belt free, his pants undone.
“Put your hands on the desk and don’t fucking move them,” I growled against his mouth, and before he could say anything, I dropped to my knees in front of him.
I didn’t know why I was doing this, only that the haze of lust and anger—both at Vaughn and myself—was too much for me to fight. I yanked his pants down hard, glaring up at him in case he thought to argue, and took his cock in my hand, giving it several rough strokes.
I slid my mouth over his erection and started sucking him, fast and hard and deep, using my hand as I did it. It was the messiest blowjob I’d ever given. There was no finesse, no teasing, no drawing it out. There was just me, on my knees, sucking Vaughn’s cock and ignoring the painful throb of my own, my tongue working the underside of his shaft.
Vaughn groaned when I swallowed around him, one of his hands coming up to slide into my hair and hold me still. His hips moved, and I grabbed them, shoving him back. I pulled off his dick and glared hotly up at him, my breathing fucked up and my eyes narrowed. “I said, put your hands on the desk and keep them there.” My voice sounded…well, like I’d been choking on cock. Rough and angry, just how I felt.
Vaughn’s head was thrown back, and he was panting harshly. When he glanced down at me, he seemed to be considering the pros and cons of doing what I’d said. In the end, getting off won out and he did as instructed.
“Fuck, William,” he moaned, as I went back to deep-throating him. I wanted him to come and I wanted it to never end. He tasted as good as he smelled, and the reason I didn’t want his hands in my hair to help him fuck my throat is because I knew just how much I would like it.
I reached down and rubbed my free hand over my own erection, sparks of pleasure flaring at the touch. I forced myself to stop and redoubled my efforts to get Vaughn off. It didn’t take long before I felt him tense, felt his cock throb before he came in my mouth. I swallowed the same way I’d sucked him off, like I was trying to prove something.
When it was over, I stood up and pressed the back of my hand to my mouth. Vaughn was leaning against the desk, flushed and panting, his pants undone and his softening cock glistening wet. I wanted to fuck him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. But I turned away to regain my composure, the reality of what I’d done the only thing that was capable of cooling my ardor. When I finally had myself under a modicum of control, I turned around.
Vaughn had tucked himself back into his pants and was watching me with an expression halfway between pleased and anticipatory. Good.
“Keith Oakley,” I began, and had to clear my throat. He smiled. I ignored it. “Keith Oakley is on vacation for the next two weeks. My sister, Charlotte, still has the security code and a house key she was to return to him when he’s back from vacation. I’ll see to it the Staunton is back where it should be.”
His eyes widened a bit, and I could tell he hadn’t expected that. “Is that so?”
“I said I had all the cards. You’re the one who thought he knew what they were.” I strode over to him and pressed myself up against that lean, muscular body. I inhaled his scent, let myself remember it, and gave in to the temptation to reach out and tangle my fingers in the ponytail that secured his long hair. I pulled, not gently, and gave him a harsh, punishing kiss. “Now we’re even.”
And then I left.
* * *
I shouldn’t have been surprised when he called me a few days later, but I was. Surprised, and annoyed that the sound of his honeyed drawl in my ear was as delicious as I’d known it would be. I’d thought our encounter in his office would be the end of this…whatever it was. Association.
As soon as I’d left Vaughn’s house in Falls Church I’d returned the Staunton to Oakley’s house. If I’d been caught, it would have been the end of my career, and I reminded myself of that fact with every step I took into his opulent house. But no one was home, Charlie’s security code took care of any alarms, and the Staunton was back where it belonged: unappreciated and terribly lit.
“Mr. Vaughn.” I put an emphasis on the mister. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Oh, William,” he said, and laughed. “I thought you’d make it a little harder than that.”
I couldn’t quite believe he was a real person. I’d never met anyone in my life who spoke the way he did. I dealt with wealthy people regularly as part of my job, but none of them could turn a phrase like Vaughn. From anyone else, his manner would probably seem affected. Somehow, he made it work. He really made it work, damn him.
Of course, at the moment all he was doing was setting my teeth on edge. “How did you get this number?”
“The FBI directory, and a very helpful operator. It’s not exactly a state secret, you know. You are a public official, and I am the public.”
I snorted. Hardly. “And why is it you’re calling me, exactly?”
“Why, to thank you, of course,” he said smoothly. “For your assistance in that tricky little matter that might have caused me no end of inconvenience.”
Tricky little matter, indeed. I was still horrified at what I’d done. Not so much the blowjob as the non-arrest that came after it. Even if there was no way in hell I could have arrested a suspect after sucking him off.
Which is why you did it.
That voice, unfortunately, was not Drunk Will. It was Sensible Will. Too bad he hadn’t been around earlier. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“Don’t be silly, of course I do. Will you have dinner with me, so that I may do so properly?”
My mouth dropped open, which until that moment, I’d always thought was hyperbolic. “You must be kidding.”
He made a soft tsk sound. “Of course not; that would be incredibly rude. How about Friday?”
Was this… How could he… “You’re not asking me on a date, are you?”
“It would appear I am,” Vaughn said. “So, Friday? Or would another day work for your schedule?” His voice turned teasing. “I’m flexible.”
I had to resist the urge to slam the receiver against the desk. I took two slow, deep breaths and said, “Let me see if I can make this very, very clear to you, Mr. Vaughn. We’re done. Don’t call me again.”
Hopefully the dial tone would do better at conveying what he was so determined not to hear.
Apparently it didn’t. Because not two hours later, I got a very enthusiastic phone call from Charlotte, eager to tell me that she’d just landed an exclusive contract—with the Vaughn Foundation.
“This is huge, Will,” my sister enthused, while I seethed quietly in my chair. “Huge. If I rock this—and I will—then I’m going to make a name for myself and ah, this is it! This is totally the break I was waiting for. Did you end up talking to him at the party?”
Oh, did I ever. “Briefly.”
“What’d you think of him?”
The memory of Vaughn on his knees, his mouth on my cock, assailed me. I searched wildly for something to say that wasn’t in relation to cocksucking and said, “That he looked like Lucius Malfoy.”
She snorted. “Actually, he kinda does. But he’s raising money for the Willowbrook College art department, so I’d say he’s more a philanthropist than evil wizard.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.