Tangled (Playing With Fire)

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” She repeated her words from four nights ago, her voice hoarse, her throat dry. Afraid he was saying some sort of rehearsed line he kept in his repertoire and brought out to seduce women.

Trevor shook his head slowly, his gaze again drifting to her mouth. As if he wanted to kiss it, drink from her, taste her over and over again. “Your opinion of me is pretty low, huh?”

“Terribly low,” she confessed, earning another chuckle.

“What can I do to rectify that?” He propped a hand on the wall behind her, his splayed fingers close to her head. His body heat reached, his broad shoulders blocked everything else and all she saw was him. She was surrounded by him. Trevor.

“Leave me alone?” Her tone was hopeful because really, her life would be easier if he did leave her alone.

A little lonely and full of regret but definitely easier.

“I can’t,” he said in an aching whisper, and her body tightened with need. “Go to dinner with me. Let me convince you I’m not such a bad guy.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said quickly.

“You want to.”

She sighed. “You’re cocky.”

“Hmm, say that again.” His lids lowered, his entire focus seemingly on her mouth.

“Say what again? Cocky?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, lids lifting, revealing his burning, hungry gaze. “Now take the ‘y’ off and say it one more time.”

“You’re bad.” She swatted at his chest, but he caught her hand, brought it to his mouth where he pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles.

Thank God for the wall. It gave her something to lean against while her legs went weak at the touch of his lips on her skin.

“You like it.”

“No, really I don’t.”

Trevor ignored her little insult, just clutched her fingers tighter. “Say yes. Say you’ll go to dinner with me. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” If she was going to do this—and really she wasn’t—then she’d prefer some time to plan an outfit, a look, something. Just plan. Spontaneous dinner dates with heartbreakers wasn’t her thing.

“Yes, tonight. After the show.”

“It’ll be late,” she protested, but he ignored that, too.

“And I’ll be starving. Say yes, Scarlett.”

She loved the way he said her name, the way he commanded her. It thrilled her right down to her toes. And elsewhere, too. “I shouldn’t.”

“You will.”

“Trevor—” she started but he shushed her, dropping her hand to press his fingers to her lips.

“You’re going.” His fingers didn’t leave her mouth. No, in fact, they started to stroke, tease, touching first one corner, then the other, and she trembled.

“My choice where we eat?” Her voice was shaky, her entire body shaky. She breathed deep, her mouth parting, his fingers dipping between her lips.

“Your choice.” He teased her some more, smoothed one finger back and forth across her lower lip. She closed her lips around it, dabbed her tongue at the tip. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad.”

Oh yeah, thank goodness for the wall. Her legs were jelly, her stomach clenched and her pussy was positively throbbing. All because he touched her mouth with his finger and looked at her as if he wanted to devour her in one swallow.

She released his finger from between her lips yet he still touched her, traced a path along her upper lip. “Okay.”