“Because you’re gasoline, and I wanna ignite.”
My entire stomach rolled around those softly spoken words, collecting them like forbidden morsels to make myself sick on. Fuck me.
“Because I wanna roll the dice and see if we’re a match.”
Thickets of water-strung lashes bowed up and down over her vibrant eyes, her gorgeous head tilting just so.
Christ. She was so goddamn beautiful and off-limits to me it hurt. The full-body ache of not being able to steal every kiss off of her lips for the rest of her life was unimaginable. Maddening.
My off-tempo heartbeat climbed up my throat, throbbing uncontrollably as she ambled up on the tips of her toes. She brought her temptation within kissable distance, all of her delirious attention hypnotized on my mouth.
“Because you’re a little bit broken, and I’m a little bit curious.”
My throaty groan collapsed halfway through execution.
“I’m more than a little bit broken, and you’re a masochist of epic proportions,” I told her, hardened eyes gripped on hers.
A kittenish simper inched the corner of her mouth.
“I think we sound perfect together.”
“I think we sound like a therapist’s fucking nightmare.”
She liked that growling exasperation even more than the last, smiling all the way up to her soul-thieving eyes. She relished the asinine sentiment like an inside joke we shared together that she absolutely fucking adored.
And it took all my leftover strength not to maul her sweet little mouth for it.
“The control freak and the girl of fire.”
A revered pairing in her mind and on her hailing tongue. Making us sound nothing like the actual nightmare we’d be together.
“Actually, you said I was your girl of fire…” Discerning eyes flashed up to me, and I knew I was beyond screwed. “Didn’t you?”
Groaning for my brainless mouth, I laid my forehead on hers and shut my tired eyes.
“I’m drunk,” I grumbled. “I don’t know what I said.”
“I do.” She moved her head, a shameless nip of teeth scraping my jawline, pulling a grunt from my chest.
Too fucking tired to think it through, I dropped a heavy arm from the wall to cage around her tiny waist so she couldn’t pull anymore cheeky shit.
The move fastened the barely covered areas of us together, my hard dick sitting transparently against her navel. Why bother pretending that I wasn’t sailing from six to midnight whenever she was within grabbable distance at this point?
She knew. I knew she knew.
I was still trying to remember to care that she knew.
I was getting worse at it by the second as she curled her arms around my neck, hanging beneath me.
“You called me yours. Your girl of fire,” she whispered in wicked excitement, pausing only enough to allow a poignant beat. “Except when I’m with you.”
My borderline obsession with the woman against me outweighed how much I knew I would regret asking.
“What do you mean?”
The elegant point of her chin lowered. Her eyelids followed, little fingers beginning to play with the hair at the back of my neck. My awareness prickled sharply.
Scarlett wasn’t a woman to fidget; she was too sure of herself. The only time I knew her fingers to need a point of distraction was when something made her uneasy.