Fuck.
It’d have been great if the woman I got stuck with babysitting was plain and boring, and not an infuriating brat with the mouth of a sailor that begged to be properly and thoroughly fucked.
Crossing my arms over themselves, I leaned back against the counter. “I was thinking we could stay here another day. Enjoy Vegas in all its wretched glory before setting on the road tomorrow.”
She left a telling pause hanging between us. “Why?”
“Well, I was supposed to start my vacation today before your father put me on this assignment. I’d like to have some semblance of vacation before sitting in a car for another two days. It’s a win-win how I see it.” Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “I get a day off. You get a bit of freedom. So long as you promise you’ll be back here by the end of the day.”
As much as she could, she sat up in bed, never giving me a break from the skepticism in her stare.
“You really trust me to come back here?”
“You did last night,” I replied coolly.
She watched me, waiting to see what the catch was. After several seconds of inspection, Scarlett eased back against the bed, seemingly satisfied.
“All right. Fine.” She nodded up to her captured wrist. “You gonna uncuff me or do you wanna give me my bobby pin back?”
“I broke it.”
She shrugged. “I could still make it work.”
And that I did not doubt. I got the keys and unlocked her cuffs, giving her arm back. She worked it back and forth, getting the blood running back through. Behind me, the coffee pot was sputtering with life as I observed her rolling her wrists around before pushing her legs out of the sheets.
“Woah!” I snapped around so fast to face the other way, I got a headrush. “Pants. Put on some fucking pants.”
“Why?” She rummaged around behind me. “I need to grab a shower. That’d be going in reverse order to get dressed again.”
“How in the hell did you even take your pants off? You were cuffed.”
“I shimmied out of them in the middle of the night. Calm down.”
Calm down. Calm down?
How could I calm down when I could hear her walking around behind me in that tiny stitch of black fabric she called underwear? All I’d seen was a peek of the fabric squeezed between her legs, and the headrush I got seconds prior had already traveled south.
“You can’t walk around half-dressed around me. You’re a child compared to me, and I don’t need your dad thinking I’m a fucking pedophile after this trip.”
“I’m 21. Legal. It’s okay to look.”
Her voice trailed up over my shoulder, a seductress’ caress that prickled the hair on the back of my neck. She came around in front of me, catching my gaze in hers, and literally my entire body clenched.
Don’t look down. Don’t you fucking look down.
Only Scarlett would take off more clothes when I’m hanging by the tips of my fingers, pleading with her to put more on. Now her body was free of the shirt she’d gone to bed in, leaving her in two tiny pieces of black clothing to cover those intimate parts of her body. Parts I should have nothing to do with. Parts I should never have seen and certainly should never fucking touch.
“Scarlett,” I spoke, deep and warning. She held my stare, teasing fingers up to the strap of her bra.
She popped an eyebrow up. “Agent?”
And then those teasing little fingers moved her strap off of her shoulder. The thing fell, and then she brought the other side down to match. Her bra hung off of her shoulders, only held up by the swell of her breasts.
I shifted feet, angling my stance to something that would take off the pressure of the problem growing stiff in my pants. I may be allowed to legally be attracted to her, but that didn’t mean shit if I could act on it.
She was off-limits. Too young. Too problematic. Too dangerous.
“Get… in… the shower,” I spoke slowly, not trusting my voice.