Tangled (Playing With Fire)

“Anyone?” His brows lifted. That was a challenge if he ever heard one. His pinky finger reached, until it met the elastic leg of her underwear. “So if I dived beneath your panties you wouldn’t be wet.”

“Um…” She looked flustered. And guilty. “Anyone, remember?”

“Right, so any guy could be sitting here with his fingers on you and you’d react sexually. Maybe if it was Drake.” Her lids fluttered, and he didn’t doubt Drake could cause this reaction. Her crush proved she had a thing for him.

Jesus. Why had he even mentioned Drake’s name?

“How about…” He thought, his mind reaching, searching for a name of someone they knew. Someone about as sexy as a lump of cold mashed potatoes. “Keith.” Austin’s sometimes lighting assistant. The guy had beady eyes and a cold disposition. He gave the girls at the theatre the creeps.

Hell, he gave Trevor the creeps. Austin justified keeping him around because the guy was damn good at his job.

The disgusted shudder was unmistakable, the look of horror on her face equally so. “You would have to pick the biggest asshole in the world.”

“He’s not bad.” He let his fingers drift across her mound, the unmistakable heat underneath nearly burning him. “Would you react the same if it was him touching you? If I was Keith?”

She released a shuddering breath, her gaze locked with his, dark and irritated. Her entire body tensed, and he wondered if he’d pushed her too far. “Of course not.”

“That’s what I thought.” He played with the elastic, touched bare flesh, the silk of her pubic hair and holy hell he wished he could see her.

“I don’t want you to touch me.” She didn’t sound very convincing though. He wasn’t one to push himself on a woman, he’d never had to but something told him she was lying. She wanted his touch as badly as he wanted to touch her.

Scarlett was fighting it, fighting him. And he didn’t quite understand why.

“Say the word, and I’ll stop.” He slipped further, felt her plump pussy lips, a hint of wetness, and heat. Such heat. He bet she was creamy and sweet, so sweet. He wanted a taste. Wanted to push her skirt up to her hips, tear her panties off and place his head between her legs.

For now, he’d settle with his hand.

“You’re too arrogant.” She whimpered when his fingers slid between her pussy lips, drifted over her hard little clit. “You think all women want you.”

“You claim you don’t.” Ah yeah, just as he thought, her juices coated his fingers. She was so wet he slid through her with ease, searching her delicate folds.

Scarlett bit her lower lip, her gaze slithering away from his. “I don’t. Really I don’t.”

“I know, sweetheart. I believe you.” That’s why she was wet for him. Why her entire body trembled. For him. Because of him.

But she didn’t want him, nope, not at all.

He surged a finger inside her, her swollen tissues grasping him tight. She moaned, her legs spreading as wide as they could, but her skirt restricted her.

Such a shame. He wanted to see her but there was something illicit, taboo sitting with her on the couch, his hand up her skirt, his finger inside her hot pussy. He felt like a teenager getting off his first serious girlfriend, sneaking around on her parents’ couch late at night.

Trevor rubbed her clit with his thumb, again and again, circling, flicking, making her gasp. “Want me to stop?”

She didn’t answer. She glared at him, anger and arousal flushing her face, her cheeks a rosy pink. He could actually see her struggle, wanting to tell him no yet her body wanting him to continue. He flicked her clit again, building a faster rhythm and her gaze never left his though her lids lowered, her lips trembled. She was desperate to keep control.

He was just as desperate to make her lose control. He wanted her writhing. He wanted to watch her come. He wanted to know what she looked like at that moment when her climax took over her body.

Fuck, he was greedy. He wanted it all.

“Do you, Scarlett?” He thrust his finger deep, added another finger and thrust again and she bucked her hips against his hand.

“What?” Her voice rasped, as if her throat was dry, and he pumped his fingers inside her tight heat, his thumb circling her clit.

She was close. He knew it. He could feel it.

“Do you want me to stop? Or do you want to come?” His cock surged, thick and hard and ready to make an appearance. He’d give anything to be inside her, at this very moment, but he’d have to settle for this.

Next time. He’d have her. In minutes if she let him.