Tina Beckett - To Play With Fire

He was doomed.

Fifth stop.

Maggie’s blouse had edged up during the trip, and when he shifted his hand, his pinky finger met bare skin. His hard-on was now a raging inferno that showed no hint of subsiding any time soon. And that warm, silky sliver of flesh tempted him to move his hand a little lower, to widen that gap between her trousers and shirt.

He didn’t. But his little finger did explore as much as it was able, dragging backwards and then retracing its steps time and time again. He swore he could hear her breath, shallow and rapid above the churning sounds of the train.

Kind of like the churning going on in his gut.

And then the nightmare came to a crashing halt as the train began to slow for the last time...way before he was ready.

He ducked his head low, until his lips almost touched her ear. “This is our stop.”

“Is—is it?”

“Yes.” Her earlobe was close—a tiny diamond glittering in the delicate flesh. All he had to do was open his mouth and draw it in, stroke his tongue across it.

The subway doors opened with an ugly hissing sound.

Marcos blinked back to awareness as folks around them began moving, exiting with quick, jerky steps, in a hurry to reach their destinations. The fire still burning strong in his belly, he forced himself to take a step back, to unwind his arm from Maggie’s waist, pinky making one last desperate pass across her skin before withdrawing completely.

Maggie’s shoulders lifted as she let go of the pole. “Ready?”

Not by any stretch of the imagination. But he would take the steps necessary to get off this train.

Both the physical one...and the mental one.

No matter how much he longed to stay.

Except the second he let Maggie move through the open door and followed her off the train, he couldn’t draw his eyes away from the soft ass in front of him, or banish the memory of it swishing against him time and time again. And a certain throbbing part of his body made sure that memory stayed painfully alive.

They rounded a corner of the station and exited near a darkened stand of trees. He needed to stop for a second and catch his breath, because if he didn’t get control of himself—right now—then the second they reached the parking lot and got into his car, he was going to do something extremely stupid. Like haul her onto his lap, unzip, and put an end to this torture once and for all. He’d done it once before—could remember every second of the time they’d spent doing just that.

Forcing the thoughts back down with a soft curse, he snagged Maggie’s hand, tugging her off the sidewalk. People continued to stream by them, oblivious to anything but getting home.

“What—?”

“Shh.”

He moved deeper into the bushes, stopping behind a large oak tree. The dark shadows played a tantalizing game of hide and seek with her features.

She blinked at him. “Is something wrong?”

Was she serious?

“Yes, Maggie. Something is terribly wrong.” Even as he said it, his back connected with the tree behind him. Taking her other hand in his, he bent his elbows to shift her a few inches closer.

Her tongue came out to dampen her lips, eyes still on his.

She knew. She had to know.

Just to make sure, he slid his hands up either side of her neck until his thumbs rested just beneath her chin, applying the barest amount of pressure to tilt her head up. “Can you guess what it is, querida?”

“I—I don’t...”

“Yes. I think you do.” He stared down at her, a strange sense of resignation sliding through him as he realized no place was safe with her. Not a subway, not a car...not even behind a tree. “Come here.”

There was a pause then she took one step toward him, then two. Something inside him twisted with a mixture of lust and exultation.

“Do you want me to show you what it is?” he continued, his thumbs caressing the edges of her jawline.

She nodded, then seemed to need to back up the gesture with her voice. “Yes.”

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