The girl can’t help herself…until she helps herself to a triple-hot fantasy.
Playing With Fire, Book 2
Always wanting what she can’t have. Scarlett learned this the hard way, and this time is no different. Drake, the one guy she’s hot for, isn’t hot for her. Nope, he’s hot for Trevor, the gorgeous, arrogant actor she works with. Maybe it’s time she let loose and let the right man capture her, for a change.
Trevor wonders why she can’t see that the right man is right under her nose. He’s crushing big time on the quirky, sexually confident Scarlett—a huge turn-on for a guy who’s not your standard looking-for-vanilla-sex kind of guy.
When an argument with Trevor explodes into the hottest sex of her life, Scarlett thinks nothing has ever felt so right—until Drake joins in and kicks it into white-hot gear. Trevor is astounded that she trusts him enough to make her three-way happen for her. But suddenly he’s not so sure he wants to share…
“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.
“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…
Scarlett’s skin flushed hot, and she brushed a few stray hairs away from her forehead with shaky fingers. The position stretched her shirt tight across her bosom, and she forgot how many buttons she’d undone on the starchy white shirt. Enough buttons to show acres of naked skin, the black swirling lace of her skimpy bra.
His gaze locked right there, of course. Zoomed in on her cleavage, and she swore she saw a flash of appreciation in their brilliant depths.
Damn him, he had beautiful eyes. Eyes that could make a woman melt, and a voice that could make a woman come. At the very least shiver with awareness and bring her nipples to hard, aching life.
Yeah, she hated this guy. So very, very much.
She couldn’t answer him, couldn’t remember what he’d said. He smiled, a one-sided curve of sensual lips that was loaded with all sorts of meaning.
Sexual I-know-just-how-to-make-you-lose-your mind meaning.
“Nice outfit,” he drawled, his gaze locked on her breasts. “Love the bra especially.”
“I’m sure.” She stood tall, though she wanted to cover herself. Or bare herself completely. Take your pick.
“Kind of different from your usual look,” he continued. She glanced at him sharply, surprised that he’d even noticed. “Not that I don’t mind this particular outfit. You remind me of the librarian we had when I was in grade school. She was pretty. Hot. Young. I’d go in there and pretend to study after school just so I could sneak looks at her, maybe even talk to her.”
Scarlett couldn’t imagine Trevor Braxton as a child. He’d probably been a handsome little devil full of deviousness. Tricks and trouble and mischief—she could only surmise the torture he’d put his parents through.
“I’m sure you stood out. Someone like you hanging out in a library every day.”
Trevor’s dark brows drew together, his expression confused. “Someone like me? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, look at you.” She waved a hand at him, wondered if maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. “I’m sure you’ve never studied a day in your life. You got by on your good looks alone.”
He laughed, the sound warm and…how could this be? Inviting?
She really wanted to hate this man. But he made it hard. And that drove her nuts.
“I was a big nerd in school,” he admitted once he quit laughing. “Dressed bad, funny looking, wore glasses, had braces. The works.”
“I don’t believe you.”