Playing with Fire

I pressed my lips together, looking up at him under my lashes, waiting for his next move. I felt naked without my cap, and I hated that he watched me so intently, devouring me with his eyes.

I kept reminding myself I had a lot of makeup on, and that it was very dark. He couldn’t see much. I shook inside his arms like a leaf but met his stare.

“Having a change of heart?” I tried to taunt, my tone fragile, torn apart.

He smirked sinisterly, looking like Satan himself. “I’m not like you, Texas. Once I make up my mind, it’s a done deal.”

He darted his tongue out, tracing the seam of my lower lip ever so slowly. His hot, wet tongue felt like crushed velvet, leaving shivers in its wake. My whole body quaked, every inch of my skin turning into goose bumps that started spreading on the crown of my head, trickling to the tips of my toes. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire.

I was on fire.

And this time, I wanted to perish in his arms.

“Who is chicken shit now?” he whispered into my mouth, teasingly coaxing it open with his expert tongue. I slammed my eyelids shut. His mouth was too much. Too warm. Too inviting. Too perfect. The smell of him—apple candy and sweat and alpha male—made me press my thighs together. I felt a damp spot of need settling on my panties. I was so wet I wanted to cry.

“You’re going to break for me, like you always do, so you might as well do it with some of your pride intact,” he rasped into my lips. “Because once I decide to kiss you, nothing is going to stop me. Least of all your ass.”

The nerve of this guy.

My lips were still locked together. I let my eyes flutter open, my blues challenging his greens.

He laced his fingers through mine beside our bodies, his thumb rubbing my flame ring knowingly. He brought the ring to his lips and whispered into it, his eyes still on mine.

“I wish Gracie-Mae would let me kiss her silly.”

He noticed.

Noticed I whispered wishes into the ring. Noticed the little broken flame jewelry was my own candy apple.

I wondered what he thought happened to my face. It shocked me that he hadn’t asked once since we became close.

“Now, if you don’t open up and let me kiss the shit out of you in the next three seconds, Tex, I’m going to never try again. As I said, I never turn back on my word. Three. Two. O—”

I opened up for him.

His tongue found mine immediately, stroking it greedily. It was my first kiss since Tucker. This kiss tasted like beer and Granny Smith and West. And West, I realized to my horror, tasted like home.

I knew, with a clarity that made my gut coil into itself a thousand times over, that nothing and no one would taste like him.

He pushed his chest against mine, and we both groaned, surprised by the force of the kiss. West propped his knee between my legs, shamefully grinding his hard-on over my stomach. He was throbbing, jerking behind his jeans.

It was a molten, passionate kiss. Something I’d never experienced before. A mixture of wild and raw.

I couldn’t tell exactly when our lips disconnected from one another, but his hands were still on my cheeks after it happened. He brushed his nose against mine, up and down, in a way I found impossibly soothing. I tried to take in a ragged breath, but I found that my chest was so tight with emotions, it was hard to draw oxygen into my lungs.

“We’re playing with fire,” he croaked.

I nodded, my eyes dropping from his gaze to his mouth. I wanted more. I didn’t feel ugly in his arms, even when his hand touched my scar.

“I’ve walked through fire before, so I know what I’m getting into.” My voice shook around my words, but each of them tasted like redemption and change. Like rebirth. “I’m willing to pay the price.”

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, like it pained him to hear this. “I should walk away,” he said, mostly to himself.

“I’m not too proud to follow,” I admitted.

“If we go this route, it has to be casual, Texas. It has to. I can’t do promises. Or relationships. I’m as far from boyfriend material as humanly possible.”

“You don’t know that,” I argued.

He smiled sadly at me. “Trust me, baby, I do.”

Something in his eyes told me that he had a good reason to make that statement. I grabbed his hand and turned it over so his inner bicep was to me.

“Who is A?”

I was already jealous of her. I wanted to be A. I wanted his undying devotion and heartbreak. I wanted to have the power to ignite the celestial turmoil she’d put him through.