Tangled (Playing With Fire)

With Trevor, it was all about them.

He said her name again, the sound raw as it rasped from between his lips. He began to move slowly, in and out, deeper and deeper and she moved with him. Her hips nudged against his, her legs wrapped around his waist. With a tenderness he’d never displayed before, he kissed her, drugged her with his mouth, his tongue.

She couldn’t take this. It felt too—serious. It felt too good.

So good.

He thrust within her as if he had all the time in the world. The slow drag and retreat within her body was too much, too overwhelming. She didn’t want sweet, slow lovemaking. She wanted it crazy rough—scratching an itch versus expressing their feelings.

Scarlett needed it impersonal so she wouldn’t cry. The very last thing she wanted to do when having sex was cry. She never had before.

“Faster,” she urged, sounding like a drill sergeant. But he did as she asked, moving faster, filling her so deep she cried out in pleasure.

Damn it, why was he starting to mean something to her? “Harder,” she commanded, going for impersonal.

And he did that, too. He took her with a tender savagery she’d never experienced before, and she surrendered to it, surrendered to him. Allowed him to fuck her, make love to her, whatever he wanted to call it but he did it all to her and she could only lie there and take it.

Enjoy it. Revel in it. Want more from him, so much more. And when her orgasm bore down on her, rippled through her body she sobbed his name. Clung to him as if she never wanted to let him go.

The tears that formed in the corner of her eyes she could ignore. The restless pounding of her heart she could shut out, too.

But that nagging voice in her head was hard to deny no matter how much she wanted to.

She was falling for Trevor. And she doubted he was falling for her.

Chapter Seven

Scarlett was still embarrassed by her behavior that one fateful night which occurred over a week ago. Embarrassed by that moment more than any of the sexual encounters she’d had with Trevor since this entire thing started. It was one thing to act like a complete bitch and another to allow anyone a glimpse of her real self, the one with fears and dreams and regrets.

And she’d been an emotional wreck, touched by the fact Trevor wanted to find out so much about her. Shocked at herself that she let him see bits of her. Bits she normally kept hidden from others.

He’d acted like it was no big deal. He’d pushed, but he hadn’t pushed too hard. She’d pushed back, and he’d an

swered all of her questions with ease. To the point where he was giving her information she didn’t want to know.

Because by sharing a piece of him, a personal, private piece, it made everything feel much more serious. Intimate. Like maybe they were getting deeper into a relationship or something.

And what they shared didn’t qualify as a relationship. Really hot sex, yes. Someone fun to hang out with, definitely. A serious relationship with a man she could envision spending the rest of her life with?

Scarlett breathed deep and shook her head. She honestly couldn’t answer that last question.

She shoved the thought aside and studied the sketchpad in front of her. She sat at the tiny desk in the large dressing area of the theatre, planning the next production’s costumes and makeup. It was her favorite part of her job, planning and creating. The new play was a fantasy, dark and sensual and this time Trevor wasn’t playing the lead.

Thank goodness. This production was rather sexy, and the lead actor was in plenty of intimate scenes.

I have no right to be jealous. I don’t own him.

Gah. She was being ridiculous. Pushing the sketchpad away from her, she whirled around in her wheeled chair to find Drake standing in the doorway, a cautious expression on his face.

“Hey.” She was startled to see him. He looked good, dressed simply in faded blue jeans and an even more faded pale blue T-shirt with some sort of abstract dragon sketched in white across the front. His hair was damp and pushed back from his handsome face, his green eyes friendly.

“Hi, Scarlett.” He walked into the room until he stood in the middle, his hands going into his front pockets. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Grab a chair and sit.” She waved her hand toward a few chairs not far from where he stood and he grabbed one, pulled it up to her desk and sat next to her.

He smelled good, fresh and citrusy. She breathed deep, studying him. He was incredibly good looking with smooth olive skin and the pronounced cheekbones. His body was lean, his shoulders broad, almost as broad as Trevor’s.

No comparisons, she told herself. Two completely different men, stop it.