Gena Showalter - Playing With Fire (tales of an extra ordinary girl)

“Yeah,” he said, as if he’d understood me. “I’m turned on. Barbecue me if you don’t like it.” Now his tone held an irresistible challenge.

If I didn’t like it-puh-lease. Inability to think because of it did not equal dislike. What, he assumed I had no hormones? I might despise this entire situation, but I was (stupidly) attracted to this man. The part of me that was glad to see him urged me to spread my legs and allow him to fall into the cleft presented. He could rub me where I suddenly ached.

Come on, Jamison. Show some restraint. The admonishment from my common sense helped me remain unmoving. Deep inside I knew if I moved the tiniest bit, he’d be on me, kissing me, and I’d be on him, devouring him.

“I’m going to remove my hand again, Periodic Table Chick, and don’t you dare think about screaming. I’m pissed at you right now, and you don’t want to push me further.” Gradually, he did as he’d promised. All the while, he frowned down at me.

“I’ll push you further if I want,” I said, mouth free a second time. No reason to let him wallow in the delusion that he could intimidate me. “And don’t call me Periodic Table Chick.”

“I dare you to try something,” he said. “You won’t like what happens.”

“You won’t like what happens if you don’t get off me. You’re crushing me.” Deliciously. “I can’t breathe, damn it.”

“If you can talk, Four Elements Girl, you can breathe.”

Logic sucked. “I’m dying here, I tell you. And don’t call me Four Elements Girl. That’s stupid. Besides, I’ve only used three. Fire, air and ice.”

Rome rolled his eyes. “A technicality. I think you like me where I am just fine, and that scares you.” His frown deepened. At least he didn’t call me by another one of those ridiculous names. “I won’t press you, though. Not now. I’m going to move. But if you point your hands at me, I swear to God I’ll tie them behind your back and leave them there this time.”

“Go ahead,” I said smugly. “I can shoot fire out of my eyes.”

Intense blue eyes narrowed on me. “Thanks for the reminder. Believe me, blindfolding you won’t be a hardship, you little pyromaniac.” More exasperated than angry (I seem to have that effect on a lot of people) he shook his head. “I saw the damage you did to the apartment. That’s one hidey-hole I can mark off my list.”

My cheeks colored in embarrassment. “That was an accident. I didn’t mean to cause so much damage.”

“So a little damage would have been okay?” He lifted off me inch by inch, removing his weight just as I’d asked. Except without him, I suddenly felt cold and empty. He released my wrists, severing all contact, and crouched on his knees at the foot of the bed.

I jolted upright, very aware a thin sheet was all that separated us. Our gazes clashed as I tugged the material up and held it to my chest in a kung fu death grip. My naughty nipples were giving him a happy, so-glad-to-see-you salute, further increasing my humiliation.

“How did you get in here?” I said through clenched teeth.

“I picked the lock.” One corner of his mouth curled, but quickly fell back into place, giving his face a dark, menacing cast. “Now you answer a question for me. Who was the boy who gave you a ride?”

Oh, no. No, no, no. Not Tanner. “He’s just a kid, and if you hurt him, I’ll fry you to a crisp. You’ll taste ashes for a year.”

He arched an insolent brow. “Embracing our powers already, I see.”

“Just trying to survive.” Asshole. He made it sound like it was a crime to utilize my new abilities. And can you say hypocrite? He wanted me to use them to help hide his daughter, didn’t he?

“I’m not going to hurt the kid,” he said grudgingly. I heard the word yet linger in the air silently, and my fists tightened. “Did you tell him anything about your situation?”

“Of course not.”

Rome studied my face for a long while. “I got his tag number, which means Vincent, the man spitting tranqs at you, did, too.”

I paled, literally feeling all the color drain from my face. “Do you think Vincent will find him? He’s a nice kid and he doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“You should have thought about that before you got in his car.”

“I was desperate,” I snapped, slamming my fist against the mattress.

Rome sighed. “Don’t get mad. Bad things happen, remember?”

I closed my eyes and forced myself to draw in a calming breath.

“The kid lost his tail on the highway with that stuntman driving of his,” Rome added. “Happy now?”

I relaxed, but only slightly. “So how did you find me?”

“I’m a better tracker than most.” There was no smugness in his tone, only cold, hard truth. “I told you to stay at the apartment, Belle.”

My chin tilted, and I know I radiated pure stubbornness. “Hello, did you see the place? It was kind of smoky in there. Not to mention that cops and firemen were on their way.”

“If you hadn’t tried to escape,” he growled, “that wouldn’t have happened.”

“I needed time to think. Alone. Not that I got any,” I grumbled. “Listen. We can talk about how stupid you were in locking me up later. We’ve got to do something to protect Tanner-the boy who drove me here.”

“We?” His brows did that arch thing again, an action I was coming to hate.

My jaw clenched, and I glared at him. “Fine. Be that way. Act like a child. I’ll do it on my own. I’ll find him and I’ll protect him.” I covered my eyes with my right hand, losing my bravado. “I should have made him stay here.”

“You should have done a lot of things.” Rome plucked at the sheet, his fingers brushing my calf, my knee, then my inner thigh. It was a casual touch, and all the more sensual because of that.

I shivered, licked my lips, but didn’t move or voice a protest.

“Don’t worry about the kid.” His voice emerged hoarse, strained. “I’ve stashed his car, and he’s now sleeping in mine.”

My muscles released their viselike grip on my bones as relief coiled through me. “How-”

“Some of us actually know what we’re doing,” he interjected drily.

“That’s totally unfair!”

“Temper, temper.” He tsked again.

“You better watch how you talk to me.” Glaring, I leaned forward and pointed my finger at his chest. “You asked me for help, remember? I can assure you this is not the way to go about getting it.”

Without warning, his hand snaked out and gripped my wrist. The touch was electric, erotic. “I’ll let you do a lot of things to me with your finger.” His voice dipped low. “But poking isn’t one of them.”

Warm tingles invaded my bloodstream, slipping between my legs and rubbing in all the right places; I gulped and jerked from his clasp. Happy place, happy place. “I, uh, need to know some things about you so I can make an informed decision about what I should do.” There. A perfectly safe, nonsexual, nonthreatening subject. “Where are you from?”

All hints of emotion drained from his features, leaving him with a blank stare. He remained silent.

I tried again. “How old are you?”

Nothing.

“How old is your daughter?” Again, nothing. Grr. “I can’t trust you until I know exactly how you think I can help her.”

“Your abilities,” was all he said, but a flash of guilt filled his eyes for a split second.

There had to be more to it than that, but I didn’t press him. Stop stalling, Jamison. You’re going to trust him. Unfortunately, he was my only option at this point, and I was finally ready to admit it. Though I’d fought against it, denied it, hated it, he’d been my only option all along. I didn’t know how to hide myself (obviously). I didn’t know anything about tracking people. My talent was getting pissed and accidentally burning stuff down. Can I get a woohoo?