Tina Beckett - To Play With Fire

Wow. So it was okay for him to ask about her family, but not the other way around. Well, great. The man burned hot and cold, and she could never predict which one he might be at any given moment. If she felt this way after almost seven months of working with him, she doubted if the next few would bring any serious changes.

He glanced at his watch and swore softly. “It’s almost five. Do you mind missing the last session? We need to catch the subway—rush hour in São Paulo is best avoided if at all possible.”

“Oh, no, of course not.” In actuality, it was a relief to get away. She wasn’t sure she understood his hurry, though, since they had taken the subway, rather than his car. How would rush hour matter one way or the other if you weren’t actually driving?

She soon found out. People getting off work streamed through the turnstiles at the metro station and swarmed down the escalators to reach the lower levels. A faint sense of claustrophobia began to press in around her, and Marcos stopped to take her hand after five or six people came between them, threatening to make her lose sight of him all together.

“You have to be aggressive,” he murmured, gripping her fingers and towing her along. “It only gets worse from now until about eight at night.”

“Worse?”

He grinned down at her. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? But it’s exhilarating, no? The life, the movement...the noise.”

The noise? No, she found it kind of unsettling. Chaotic. Her instinct was to cling to the railing on the side of the wall and hang on for dear life as the crowds swept around her. She clung to Marcos’s hand instead.

And prayed she’d live to see another day.

CHAPTER FIVE

DAMN. HE’D MEANT to leave the conference earlier.

He knew how crowded the metró could get at rush hour. Despite how calm she’d seemed during the trip this morning, he could tell Maggie was not enjoying how tightly packed the station was now. Looking at it through the eyes of a foreigner, he could see how it might seem frightening—dangerous even.

Keeping a tight hold on her hand, he forced her to keep up, knowing if he didn’t they’d get pushed further and further back, and the conditions behind them would grow worse as rush hour shifted into full swing.

They finally reached the platform, and Marcos eyed the lines, calculating exactly which one would give them the best chance of getting on the next train. Briefcases and purses the size of small suitcases were the norm with passengers. As were boxes and shopping bags. People from all walks of life—and from all socioeconomic levels—relied on public transport, especially on the one day of the week when they were prohibited from driving. His day was Monday. When he’d explained the traffic rotation system to Maggie, she’d stared at him in disbelief. “You mean you’re only allowed to drive downtown on four of the five business days? How do people get to work on their off day?”

You made do. Just like he’d done as a kid, when his family hadn’t had a car at all...or a game console or even a computer. Just a two-roomed shack in the middle of a favela.

And without the license-plate restrictions, what were already snarled traffic conditions in São Paulo would grow even worse.

But it also meant that public transport was busy every single day of the week, because those who couldn’t drive rode the bus and subway.

A train whooshed past them, leaving a warm breeze in its wake before pulling to a stop with a drawn-out screech. Gripping her hand once again, Marcos hauled her after him the second the doors opened. They were six stops from their destination, so he headed for the far side of the car to let others board, not even bothering to look for a seat. There would be none at this hour.

And the commuters kept coming—people jamming in all around them. Marcos saw someone jostle Maggie and push past her. She seemed to cringe into herself, edging closer to him. “Come here,” he said.

He shifted, turning Maggie around until she gripped the metal pole in front of her, then he bracketed her in, his arms going around her to hold on to the same pole. He then widened his stance a bit to shield her legs with his own. He figured between the solid bar in front of her and him at her back, she would be relatively protected, and he could give her a bit more breathing space than some of the other passengers had.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to feel as if he were holding her in his arms, or the way the back of her head rested against his chest, doing strange things to his insides. She wasn’t doing it on purpose, there just wasn’t anywhere else for her to go. It also meant her rounded bottom was pressed against his upper thighs.

The doors slid closed and things went from merely uncomfortable to nightmare proportions as the sudden motion of the train pulling away from the platform threw Maggie against him, her body snugging to his in a way that had him spiraling down a dark rabbit hole and putting him on high alert.

“Sorry,” she gasped. But every bump and curve in the track had that delectable ass sliding over and into him time and time again.

He’d been trying to protect her. What about protecting himself? Because by the time they got off this train, his situation was going to be very noticeable.

The train began slowing rapidly as it reached its first stop, and Marcos braced one arm on the pole while sliding his other around her waist to keep her anchored against him, and to prevent the people behind him from squeezing Maggie further against the metal bar.

People shifted...some getting off, new passengers crowding closer. Things should get better after the third or fourth stop when they moved further away from the downtown district.

Maggie twisted her head to the side and looked up at him. “Sé Station...isn’t this the shopping district? Where I came with Sophia?”

“It is.”

The train pulled out again, preventing any further talk as he concentrated on keeping his body under control as the sweet assault from hers continued to grind away at his senses. The clean scent of her hair rose around him, cutting through the other less agreeable smells on the subway, and without realizing what he was doing he pulled it deep into his lungs, leaning closer...until all he smelled was Maggie.

And that’s all he felt as well as he leaned into the turns, his arm still wrapped around her, still holding her in place.

Had she just pressed closer?

It had to be his deranged imagination that had her butt nestled between his legs, the small of her back pressing on a very sensitive—and very dangerous—area of his anatomy. And up that area came, right on cue.

Damn.

It was too late to do anything about it now, other than grit his teeth and enjoy the ride.

Except this was one ride that wouldn’t be made to completion but would just leave him hungry for more.

Third stop. Three more to go.

If he survived this, he’d need to do some serious penance afterwards. Because his body was howling at him now, and he couldn’t help using the momentum of the train to his advantage. He could have sworn that Maggie answered every bump and grind with one of her own.

Marcos closed his eyes. Just let me make it through this alive.

Fourth stop.

Maggie’s shuddered breath was not his imagination this time. Neither did she move away from him as more people filtered out and fewer people packed on. This should be their cue to start edging away from each other.

He would, when she did. And the woman hadn’t budged an inch.

No longer was he praying to make it out alive. He was praying to be dragged down to hell and be done with it.

The train exited the station, and Marcos’s hand tightened on her waist once again, his thumb doing an experimental strum down her side. Maggie’s knuckles turned white as they gripped the pole in front of her, but there was no hint of struggle or of wanting to get away.