Tangled (Playing With Fire)

Chapter One

She shouldn’t be here. She had told herself not to come and yet she had. And already she’d been caught.

Scarlett Goldsmith glanced toward the large double doors that led to the exit, tempted to walk right through them and never look back. If she left now, no one would be the wiser. Yes, Austin and Michaela had seen her, but Austin would keep his mouth shut and Michaela didn’t really know anyone from their inner circle so she wouldn’t be a problem.

But deep down inside, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay. She wanted to find Drake. The man she’d been chasing for the last three months. The handsome yet elusive Drake who she had found out by accident would be here tonight.

One last time, she told herself. If he ignores me again tonight, I’m done with him.

If she even found him. Tom’s was busy. She couldn’t believe her bad luck that Austin had spotted her and from behind no less. She wasn’t dressed in her normal attire. Deciding to pull out all the stops, she’d gone through the theatre’s closet, going for the stern schoolmarm look. She’d hoped it would arouse Drake if he took one look at her.

She was getting downright desperate, considering the normal Scarlett didn’t seem to do much for him. She decided to change it, explore another facet, another side to her already many-sided self. She had too many sides. She’d explored too many avenues.

That’s my problem. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I am either.

Depression wrapped around her like a wet blanket, too heavy a burden to carry. It made that exit door all the more enticing. With a sigh, she turned and headed for it as fast as her painful four-inch heels could take her. She wobbled on her feet, cursed tonight’s choice of shoes then nearly screamed out loud when she felt someone’s strong fingers wrap around her upper arm, almost sending her off balance.

Said strong fingers whirled her around and she found herself face to face with…ugh…her nemesis, the man she couldn’t stand more than anyone, Trevor Braxton.

She withdrew from his grasp, her brows lifting in disbelief at the sight of him. He smiled, cocksure, arrogant and downright smug.

She wanted to slap that smug look right off his freaking gorgeous face.

“What are you doing here?” She crossed her arms in front of her and tapped her foot, the pain shooting around her foot from the tight shoes. But she chose to ignore it, focused instead on taking the stern part of her costume to the fullest.

Trevor’s stormy gray gaze assessed her from head to toe in a slow, lingering perusal that made her skin pebble with gooseflesh. As if he could see right through her clothing, through her entire façade and to the very core of her. All of her insecurities, her problems, her fears.

She didn’t like it.

“I could ask the same of you.” His rich, honeyed voice made ladies swoon on a daily basis. Not that she ever swooned. Not over Trevor Braxton, oh no. He was an actor. And she didn’t have very high esteem for most actors, having worked with them for so many years at the theatre.

The fact that Trevor Braxton was one of the most conceited actors she’d ever met really didn’t help her feelings toward the breed whatsoever.

“I come here on a semi-regular basis.” She lifted her chin, daring him to object or make fun. She wasn’t ashamed. She refused to be, especially in front of him. “Everyone knows that. Didn’t you?”

“Actually I did.” He mimicked her position, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. Biceps bulged beneath his dark button-up shirt straining the fabric. His strong forearms, dusted with golden brown hair, were revealed by the rolled-up sleeves. “I was hoping to run into you tonight.”

Her mind blanked at his words. Huh. Why in the world did he want to run into her? He didn’t like her. Just as much as she didn’t like him.

And yes indeed, she hated every blessed, muscular, sexy, handsome, velvety smooth bit of him too.

“I hoped you could show me around. I’ve never been to one of these places before,” he continued.

She snorted. She really couldn’t help herself. He’d never been to a sex club? Well, Tom’s was technically a voyeur’s club but hey close enough. All sorts of things were going on around them even as they spoke, every single one of them sexual in nature. The unmistakable scent of sex drifted on the air, faint but present. A couple walked by them, headed toward the door with satisfied expressions on their faces. The woman’s skirt was hiked up almost to her hips. Scarlett even caught sight of her white panties and the man’s ruffled hair—as if hands had clutched at his hair, tugging and pulling maybe while he knelt in front of the woman and licked between her legs.

Damn. Yet again, her fertile imagination took over at the most inappropriate of times. She squeezed her legs together, the position made more awkward by the high heeled shoes. Trevor still stared at her as if he might be…interested. In her.

No way.

“You can’t be serious,” she finally said when she realized he was waiting for a reply.

“Why not?” He shrugged, bringing her attention to his wide shoulders. Very capable looking shoulders. Shoulders a woman could anchor herself onto and never let go. All while she rode him, his thick cock pounding swift and sure within her wet, welcoming body…

God.