Tangled (Playing With Fire)

She laughed, trying to fight the arousal that threatened to swamp her. This was damn insane. “You’re sick.”

“Sick for you.”

Scarlett didn’t know if she should believe him. She knew he was a player of the utmost degree. He’d gone off and scored with Drake immediately after being with her.

Could she really blame him though? That night had been a challenge, a fight. A battle that she thought she’d won, letting him get her off and then walking away without a backwards glance. Now that she knew he’d been with Drake, had consoled himself with the man she originally wanted, it made her realize that she hadn’t won the battle at all.

She was a big, fat loser. And it sucked.

“Come on, Scarlett. Come over and let’s get naked together.”

She was silent, released a slow trembling breath and she heard him sigh.

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. Come over. Let me make it good for you.”

So tempting, his words, his promises. Promises she knew he could deliver. The man was a master in bed, a master of her body. He knew just how to touch her to make her wet, make her wild, make her want him. The thought of going home to another lonely night in her bed didn’t appeal. At all.

“Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Trevor opened his front door twenty minutes later to find Scarlett standing on his doorstep, looking agitated and gorgeous. Her hair was a wild mass—billowing around her head in windblown curls he wanted to bury his hands in. Her skin was flushed, her dark eyes sparkling and she wore a form-fitting red T-shirt with a black skirt that hit her just above the knee, showing off her pretty tanned legs, her tantalizing curves. The sight of her made his mouth water, his cock harden.

She was hesitant, her steps careful as he opened the door wider and she walked inside, her low-heeled black sandals clicking and clacking against the entryway’s tile floor. She slipped out of them, kicking them off under a table that sat by the door and she set her purse down beside them.

“Make yourself at home,” he joked as he shut the door, secretly thrilled she felt comfortable enough to settle right in.

Turning to face him, she glared, her expression wounded, a little vulnerable. Instantly he wanted to reach for her and hold her close. Offer her comfort, something he usually wasn’t good at. This woman was a puzzle. And he was desperate to figure her out. She kept herself closed off, never giving him a clue as to what made her tick.

He wanted to know if he could be the one who would make her happy.

It had come to him last night, long after she left him. He had lain in bed alone, unable to sleep, naked and with a hard-on that wouldn’t stop. He’d stroked himself, thought of Scarlett, and realized that he wanted her almost as much as he needed his next breath.

And for once in his life, the thought of wanting a woman so much, so constantly didn’t scare him. It thrilled him, excited him, made him want to spend all of his time with her and yet…

She didn’t want to spend any time with him. Behaved as if most of the time, she couldn’t stand him. Then she’d gone and found out about his little interlude with Drake.

Huge mistake, that one. He normally had no regrets. It was his motto. But he regretted fucking around with Drake.

“I almost turned around and went home,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “I probably shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m glad you are.”

She swallowed, he saw her throat work and he wanted to kiss her there. Drag his lips across her whispery soft skin, lick the spot where her pulse throbbed. Nibble her neck, leave a mark and let everyone know she was his.

His.

“So tell me.” She threw her arms up into the air and then let them fall slowly to her sides. “What do you want to know?”

“About?” He cocked a brow.

“About me. You said you wanted to find out things about me. Go ahead. Ask your questions.”

“Okay,” he drawled, shock coursing through him. He didn’t expect this. He thought he’d be able to fuck her first and get that out of the way. His dick was so hard it made it painful to walk. “Uh, what’s your favorite color?”

“Red.” She waved her fingers toward her shirt.

Trevor smiled. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”