––––––––

I would like to say that the last thing I expected was that my ex-wife would show up here, dressed in the same calf-high boots and similar tight-fitting outfit she'd wore the day before, but that would be a lie. Not because I ever actually expected Liz to be on my doorstep this morning, but because the very last thing I ever expected to happen was that Vienna would be right about Liz and her misguided attempt at getting back together with me.

That's just something I didn't see coming at all.

Vienna, however, saw right through her attempt yesterday at our party, and called her out on it the only way she knew how without saying it outright. She must have channeled every ounce of attitude and sassiness she could muster in order to put on that spectacle, and she did it, not only because Liz should have never been there in the first place, but because the threat of her presence was very much real.

The deluded woman from my past wanted one last chance to make us work, despite being long since divorced and knowing that Vienna and I had made it back into each other's arms and stayed that way for the past year.

And Vienna saw that. She knew that, the way a woman just knows without needing proof.

And I reprimanded her for it, told her that her reaction was exaggerated and unwarranted.

I'm a total asshole.

I watch Liz retreat dazedly back down my front steps. She turns back and looks at me through clouded eyes. The expression that greets me isn't one of anger or confusion.

It's one of understanding. Yes, there's a rigidness in her features that shows the defeat she's succumbing to, but Liz left me all those years ago for one main reason—she accused me of still being in love with the memory of Vienna Anderson.

And there's only one part of that realization she got wrong.

I'm not in love with Vienna’s memory—I'm in love with Vienna, period.

The real Vienna. The Vienna who stood up to Liz in an attempt to protect what she loved most—me. The Vienna who loves so hard and so completely that she is willing to create waves with other people in order for us to enjoy the day that is supposed to be ours, to celebrate our love.

And I'm the jerk who gave her a hard time about it.

I step back from the doorway and close the door firmly. Then, I lock it.

I turn back into the kitchen with the intent of picking my coffee mug up again and pouring myself a warm refill. But when I turn, Vienna's eyes stare back at me from the middle of the kitchen. She's still in her tank top and pajama shorts, her hair still tousled from sleep.

But, my God, she looks gorgeous to me.

She holds my gaze steadily, not blinking. I can see it in an instant that she's just witnessed my interaction with Liz, and I can feel the tension that's built up between us. There's a long moment of silence stretching through the seconds that follow, and in the silence a mutual agreement is found without so much as a word spoken.

“I'm so sorry Vienna,” I say to her, at the exact same time “I'm sorry, Cohen,” tumbles from her lips.

Suddenly, she's running into my arms and I'm enveloping her within them, holding her to me and relishing in the warmth and firmness of her body against mine. My mouth crashes down onto hers, our tongues colliding with each other and dancing feverishly together. The desperate groan that she makes as my hands roughly maul her abdomen, raking higher up her body to squeeze the soft mounds of her breasts—it unleashes something inside me.

Moments ago, I’d been content to leave her be, let her take the time she needed to calm down and maybe try to have a rational conversation later.

But now, to hell with words. And to hell with letting her get even an inch away from me. My control is gone, replaced by a primal, hungry need I can’t ignore. I need her, and I need her now.

Vienna’s hands are tugging at the hem of my t-shirt, then fumbling desperately at the drawstring of my jogging pants—she’s just as overcome with the need for me, too.

“Let me help you,” I mumble against her lips, pulling away only long enough to reach behind my back and pull the t-shirt off with one hand. It’s one fluid movement; me tugging it off and tossing it to my floor before my hands find her hips again and press her back against the cupboard. I pull her tank top from her body without needing to ask Vienna to raise her arms—she’s racing to remove all the barriers that separate our tense bodies as well.

The desire that burns through our veins is threatening to ignite, and the rushed feverishness of our movements only fuels the fiery compulsion that drives and consumes us both.

“Cohen...” she breathes. Her head tilts back as I push down her shorts and begin to leave a damp trail of kisses along the swell of her breast, bending at the knees to graze my teeth further down her side to her hips, where I bite down hungrily and find satisfaction in the breath she sucks in sharply.

“Shh, Vi, I know.” And I do. I know exactly what she’s feeling, exactly what she’s pleading for. Because the tightness of every muscle within me and the stiff erection protruding from my jogging pants is proof that every fiber of my being is begging for her, too.

Her pajama shorts fall to the floor, and Vienna kicks them away. I keep her held in place by pushing myself against her, only letting up enough to slip my pants over my hips and discard them as well.

Her eyes flutter open, and for the fleeting moment that she looks down between us to my rigid cock, pushed against the bare skin of her abdomen, there’s a void of comprehension in her eyes, like she’s so lost, so completely consumed by the electricity in my touch and the fire in her bloodstream that she can’t fathom how she’s going to survive one more second without me inside her, filling her, taking her as my own.

Her gaze snaps back up to mine, eyes wide. Her breath comes out in long pants. “Cohen, please...”

A ferocious gasp falls from my own lips, overwhelmed by the desolation in her voice. One more second without giving this woman what she wants—what she needs—is more than I can bear.

I grip her bare hips tightly and lift her up onto the edge of the countertop, holding her there. My mouth devours hers again as her hands slip around my neck and her fingertips graze up the back of it into my hair.

I loosen my grip on one hip only long enough to spread Vienna’s legs wider and position the engorged tip of my cock at her entrance. I’ve barely touched her there, but one roaming finger that slowly spreads her apart confirms just how wet and ready for me she is.

“Oh, Jesus, Vi...”

She whimpers as I press against her sensitive clit, and her head falls back, revealing the base of her throat. I lean forward and kiss the hollow there, then let my tongue dip into it just so I can hear that delicious sound from her throat again.

“You...are...mine.” On the last word, I thrust my hips forward, burying my rigid cock inside her to the hilt.

She cries out, followed by the faintest, “Oh God, yes.”

I pull almost the entire way out, loving how fucking tight she is, then slam back into her again. My hands grip her hips, holding her there on the countertop, preventing the force of my thrusts from driving her backward, preventing her from any chance of going anywhere but right where she is—and where she’ll stay until I coax my name from her lips in desperate cries.

Again and again, I drive my cock into Vienna’s pussy, encouraged and spurred on by how tightly her walls clench around me and by the sexy gasps and whimpers that are the only sounds audible between us.

I’m relentless, but so is she. Hooking her legs around my hips, leaning into me and spreading her thighs apart farther as she attempts to inch forward and meet my hips with each forceful thrust. Her mouth muffles the low grunts I make with the exertion, and each hiss that comes from me each time her fingernails dig into my shoulder blades.

It’s fast, and carnal, and completely mind-blowing. I can’t get close enough, can’t get deep enough.

Vienna may think that I’m taking her, owning her as I use the warm, wet tightness of her core to force the tension and release from within me, but she would be mistaken.

Vienna takes up every inch of my mind, body, and soul, and owns me to the point of begging for one more second inside her, one more thrust into the body that was made to fit perfectly with mine. I’m holding her in place, but she holds me, too, without even having to lay a finger on me.

But, right now, those fingers are digging into my back with such strength I hiss out a breath at the sharp sting.

She’s close, so close. Her core is clenching around my pulsing erection.

I don’t slow down, instead increasing the pace, pounding my hips against hers in a violent rhythm.

I’ve always loved demanding her to come for me, feeling her body let go as though succumbing to my commands. But I’m strung so tight, so taut, the only sounds I can make are the growls that escape my mouth against hers each time I slam into her.

“Co—Cohen...” Her legs tighten around me, holding on and taking each rough thrust. “Cohen!”

Vienna gasps, and her entire body constricts around me—her arms around my neck, her legs around my hips, and her core around my cock.

The shuddering and trembling of her body pushes me over the edge and I lose control, clamping my mouth over hers to muffle the groans as I come hard, deep inside her.

Vienna leans back, resting her head against the cupboard door behind her. I lean forward, letting the weight of my naked body press against hers, my face buried into the crook of her neck.

“I don’t like arguing, Vi, but I sure as hell love making up.”

She chuckles, and I can feel the vibration of her vocal cords against my cheek. “Doesn’t mean I want to argue any more than we have to.”

Sluggishly, I press my palms onto the countertop and pry myself away from her. “We shouldn’t have been arguing about this at all,” I admit. “I’m sorry, Vi,” I add quietly. “For the way I acted.”

“Don’t be,” she whispers, reaching out to brush her thumb along my jawline. “It’s over now. I just wish there was a way to simplify everything. To make your parents happy but still have our special day be just that—our special day. That’s all.”

“I know that,” I confess. “Now, anyway. Guess I’m a little slow to figure things out sometimes.” My eyes search hers, and I listen to her—really listen to what she’s saying.

Vienna just doesn't want drama. She doesn't want anyone to be angry, and she doesn't want to have to cause problems between family members purely because of our right to enjoy our wedding day as we want to.

The corners of my mouth turn upward as an idea floats into my mind, one that just might be a decent compromise and prevent hard feelings from occurring on either side of the family. “There might be a way to do that,” I state with a sly grin. “But I'm going to have to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh, and what's that?” she asks innocently.

My grin only widens. “I'm going to need you to stand up for this idea I've got if you truly believe in it. Don't back down, and don't let anybody railroad you into doing something or being something you don't want to be. Not even me.”

Vienna's eyebrows arch high on her forehead, and she smirks up at me with a crimson blush still reddening her cheeks from the exertion of our tryst. “You sure you can handle that?”

“I'm not sure, to be honest. But seeing as feisty, sassy Vienna is sexy as hell to me, I plan on spending the rest of my life finding out.”