Tangled (Playing With Fire)

He was sorely tempted to do it to see her reaction.

“You can’t take me to a private room.” She sounded indignant. Also, a little intrigued.

“Why not? You need to get off your feet, get those shoes off.”

“Once I take them off, I’m never putting them back on.” She hobbled along, the wince that appeared on her face driving him insane.

“Why do women buy shoes that torture their feet? I don’t get it.” Trevor shook his head, his hands itching to grab her.

“They’re hot right? Sexy? You said so yourself. We do it to impress you.” She said you as if he was the most disgusting thing on this planet. The expression on her face matched her inflection.

He couldn’t stand the fact that she didn’t like him. What had he ever done to her? He’d never gone out of his way to talk to her out of fear he’d make an utter ass of himself. He’d bided his time, wanted to approach her at the right moment, but now he was afraid he’d made a bad choice.

Yeah, nice choice asshole. Approaching Scarlett at the sex club she frequented. What the hell are you doing anyway? Are you really interested in a woman who actually frequented sex clubs?

“So was it worth it?”

She stopped, her delicate brows crinkling in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The shoes and looking hot for me. Were they worth it?” He slid his arm around her waist, this close to picking her up.

“I didn’t wear them for you specifically. Just for, um, someone who might notice.”

“Who? Drake?”

Scarlett sighed. “Does everyone know about my personal business?”

“Pretty much.” He smiled. “But I’ll tell you this. I definitely noticed. And I like what I see.” Deciding to go for it, he bent at the knees and swooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest.

A little squeal escaped her. She automatically circled her arms around his neck, her face so close he could feel her breath fan across his face. “What are you doing?”

“Tell me where the private rooms are.” He started walking, headed deeper inside the building. Her fingers fluttered on the back of his neck before pressing into his skin, sliding up into his hair.

“There’s a bank of them to the left, down that hall,” she offered. “Not everyone knows about them so most of them should be empty.”

Trevor followed her direction, forcing down the wave of lust that threatened to consume him at having Scarlett in his arms. She was tiny. She weighed hardly anything, and she snuggled against him as if she belonged there. With him.

She felt good. She felt right. And he didn’t want to let her go.

Chapter Two

Trevor was such a macho, unbelievable show-off with the heroic gesture he had just made. Sweeping her into his arms as if she was some sort of damsel in distress and he’d ridden in on his white steed to save the day. Her feet had been killing her but nothing too outrageous. She suffered with ache-inducing shoes all the time. It wasn’t a special occurrence.

Scarlett didn’t want to admit that deep down inside she loved it. Enjoyed the way he had picked her up with ease, his strong, capable arms carrying her down the hall, through the crowds of onlookers. He was gorgeous. He drew many appreciative glances, but he didn’t seem to notice. His soul focus was her and getting her off her feet.

She appreciated his attentiveness. She wondered if Drake would be so gallant and rush to her aid.

Not the thing to think about right now.

He approached the private rooms she had told him about and leaned over, tested one doorknob with outstretched fingers. His position caused her to slide a little, his hand close to her butt. When he opened the door and then adjusted her in his arms, she felt the delicious press of his fingers against her abundant flesh.

Trevor carried her into the room and deposited her on the loveseat that sat against the wall. She sank into the corner of the overstuffed little couch with her legs stretched out and watched as he sat at the other end. He reached for her feet and rested them in his lap, his fingers working on the back of first one shoe, then the other, tipping them both off her aching feet so they fell to the floor with a muffled thump.

Wiggling her toes, she sighed, a small murmur of approval escaping her. It felt so good—away from the constricting shoes, her feet free to stretch. In their elevated position, the blood slowly flowed back into them so she could actually feel them again, and she rotated first one ankle, then the other. She glanced up, her gaze meeting Trevor’s. He was studying her, his gray eyes darker, stormier, lids heavy. As if there were some sort of determined purpose in his gaze, and she couldn’t look away. She was snared in his trap.

She wasn’t protesting.

Scarlett didn’t realize he was going to touch her until she felt the warm press of his fingers on the underside of her left foot. They sank into her arch, circling, digging, driving every last kink out of her muscles. Her eyes slid closed, a groan escaping her.