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NINE
Scarlet felt the heat. The lust. The high-voltage current.
It was a simple kiss, really.
Sam’s supple lips sweeping over hers.
Feathery light. A whisper of a kiss, in truth.
One that was amazingly perfect.
One that kindled every fiber of her being.
Her lids had fluttered closed for the briefest of seconds. Now she looked up at him and wondered how on earth she’d step away and go about her business. Let him go about his.
Because that wasn’t at all what she wanted to do.
Her heart stammered in her chest. Adrenaline flowed through her veins.
She waited with bated breath for him to make another move. For him to recognize that she was still standing there, open to whatever came next.
But the “next” seemed to trouble him, for Sam was the one to take the step back. Physically as well as mentally, she noted with dismay.
He said, “I’ll let you get some sleep. Don’t worry about your tire. I’ll call over to a guy I know in Lakeside and we’ll get it worked out.”
“That’s very kind of you.” What else was she going to say? He was retreating.
From the torment in his eyes, clouding the blue irises, she surmised he was torn by the idea of staying and what that might entail … and leaving when he apparently believed that was the right thing to do.
Because of his fiancée?
Because he still felt loyalty to Cassidy? And Scarlet wasn’t just a bar or a nightclub pickup?
She didn’t know of course. Could only speculate. But the uncertainty in his eyes made her heart ache for him.
To ease both their consternation, she said, “Dinner was wonderful, and I know I’m going to get a good night’s sleep. Thanks again.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.” He dragged his gaze from her. Then took the stairs to the first floor.
Scarlet watched him go, catching his reflection in the oversized windows.
Sam was definitely the soul-stirring type.
But he was clearly caught up in emotions and memories that plagued him. Didn’t loosen their hold on him.
Scarlet could relate. At the same time, a burning desire to help him assuage that pain he clung to—that continued to claim him—gnawed at her insides.
She slowly circled his room, her fingertips gliding over his books, his knickknacks, his furniture. It was a damn shame the bed wouldn’t smell like him, because she found warmth and security in his virile scent. Had the overwhelming urge to snuggle against him. To be close enough to him to be enveloped in his presence and surrounded by his muscles.
A wholly unfamiliar sensation.
Then again, when Michael had climbed into bed behind her last night and spooned her she’d been thrilled and aroused to be engulfed by him. That, too, had been a wholly unfamiliar sensation.
One she craved to feel again.
She craved a lot of forbidden pleasures when it came to these two men.
As Scarlet removed her tank top and bra and unzipped her jeans, she imagined Sam doing it. While Michael watched.
