Beguiling (Tempting #2) (20 page)

W
ith every day that passed
, I knew I needed to just sit Scarlet down, tell her how I was feeling— that I wanted to know how she thought of us. But the fact was, I was too chicken-shit to upset the perfect balance we had going. The sex at the service station had shifted something in her, I could tell. I’d catch her looking at me for longer periods of time, like she was trying to define something that she saw on my face.

Obviously, she hadn’t been able to. There was no way. Given that Scarlet had had a minor (major) freak-out about her parents finding out about us, I didn’t think she’d like it if she could correctly interpret my thoughts just by looking at me.

And the reason for that? Because I was about one smile away from blurting out that I was most likely, probably, almost falling in love with her.

Fucked up, right?

The girl who was a neighborhood friend when we were little, a stranger through high school, then the one person who made me feel like I’d never prove them wrong about me, was the only person in the world that I wanted to be thinking about, spending time with, making decisions about. Like, life decisions.

And I didn’t fucking know how to tell her that.

It should have been easier, considering how much time we were spending together. Every single day after she pulled her car into her driveway, I followed her in. Sometimes she’d help me with my homework; I was never able to help her with hers. She even started asking me about football without me bringing it up first.

One of my favorite conversations had been the day before, when she’d told me that a wide receiver was her favorite position on the team, with a cocky little smile on her face. I’d tackled her, tickling her into submission until she finally admitted, between peals of laughter, that the QB was the best. Oddly enough, it hadn’t turned into anything beyond that. I’d just settled behind her on the couch, one arm snug around her waist, and we watched reruns of Seinfeld for the next three hours.

After we got home from the city, we hadn’t talked much. I was studying for a quiz, sprawled out on her couch, and she was typing out a paper at the kitchen table.

“Hey, Scarlet?”

She hummed in response, flicking her eyes to me and then back to the blue glow of her laptop.

“When is your dad’s sabbatical over again?” Her fingers stopped clicking, but she didn’t look over at me again just yet. “Because you’re joining them for a week, right?”

Basically, I’d just admitted two things:

1. I was paying very close attention to what she’d said early on.
   
2. I was concerned about how much time we had left to play house.
   

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, picking up a pen to doodle on a piece of paper next to her. “I usually do, yeah.”

My heart skipped a couple beats at her careful tone, hammering in quick succession. “Usually?”

The pace of the pen picked up where she still gripped it in her hand. “Yeah, umm, I don’t think I’m going this year.”

“Why not?”

Finally, she looked up, locked eyes with mine. “I just don’t want to.”

It wasn’t precisely the answer I was hoping for. But I still didn’t look away, in case she wanted to amend it at all. To something like,
I don’t want to go because that means I lose a week of time with you, doing just this.

She didn’t. And I broke eye contact, looking back down to my statistics notebook in my lap. What was weirder than anything was that I didn’t feel even the tiniest shred of disappointment in her response. How could I when the most likely reason she wasn’t going to vacation with her parents for a week was because of this little game of house we’d been playing for the past four and a half weeks?

My phone screen lit up with a text, and I smiled when I read it.

“Uh-oh,” I said under my breath.

“What?”

I flipped my notebook closed and stood, stretching my arms above my head with a groan. “Drama with Adele. She wants to know if we want to meet for drinks so she can get out of the house.”

“She invited
me
?” Scarlet raised one brow skeptically. And with good reason. Adele would probably nut-punch me for bringing Scarlet, especially if she had shit going on with Nathan that she wanted to talk about. But then again, it would probably be a good distraction for her. And then I could see how the two interacted. Not like I was making sure they could be friends or anything. Or that Adele could play nice with a woman who was actually important to me. Nope. Not at all.

“
I’m
inviting you. Which is all that matters. Come on, it’ll be fun. You haven’t seen Adele in, what? Three years?”

“Something like that.” She rolled her lips in and rubbed them together, then sat up in her chair. “Okay, fine. Do I have to change?”

“Nope. You look perfect.” Scarlet rolled her eyes, but gave me a little smile. I wasn’t feeding her bullshit either. We probably wouldn’t be going anywhere fancy, and she was wearing dark jeans and a pale yellow flowy shirt that made her hair look like it was on fire. “We’ve got time though. She’s driving in from Boston, where she lives with Nathan.”

“A boyfriend, huh?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, for like six months now.”

“That’s nice,” she said kindly. “I’m sure she’ll tell me all about it.”

“
S
o Leo was telling
me you live with your boyfriend?” Scarlet asked from across the dimly lit table. Adele just narrowed her eyes, taking a long sip from her margarita.

“Adele,” I sighed.

“What?” She shrugged lightly, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder and leveling a death look in my direction. “It’s not my fault you didn’t warn me that Sister Christian would be here. I thought I was getting BFF time.”

Scarlet shifted uncomfortably in her chair and I leaned forward, resting my arms on the dark wood. I didn’t move until Adele deemed me worthy of eye contact.

“Don’t be a bitch,” I said firmly. The moment Adele cracked, lost her armor, I could see it. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, and I could see her apology when she opened them again.

“Sorry, Jennings,” she said to Scarlet, not looking away from me. “I’m not always the most welcoming person when I have to share my best friend.”

“It’s okay, I’m not intimidated by exclusionary-based insecurity.”

Adele and I looked over at Scarlet, who was staring right back at Adele. Her face wasn’t mean, but the words rang with quiet self-assurance. I risked a glance back at Adele, whose face had split into a smile. A genuine one too.

“Touché,” Adele replied with a lifted chin. She took another sip of her drink, and Scarlet and I did the same. The block of tension had effectively snapped, and I relaxed into my chair, patting Scarlet’s thigh a couple times. She gave me a quick smile. Adele, of course, didn’t miss it. “So, Scarlet. You’re going to have to explain something to me.”

“Oh boy,” Scarlet said and took another long sip of her drink.

“You’re not like most preachers’ daughters I know. You’re sitting here on a weeknight, with your boy toy, drinking with the class whore from high school. Are you going to need to visit the confessional booth after this?”

“If I was Catholic, sure. Methodists don’t confess.”

“Ahh, of course. So that’s why you’ve got the rebel streak? The Methodist thing?”

Adele was still smiling, and so was Scarlet. I, however, was pretty stoked to hear Scarlet’s answer to this. I had already figured most preachers’ daughters didn’t make sexual to-do lists and get eaten out on the kitchen island in broad daylight, but maybe this whole thing was part of a college rebellion, and she’d go back into her normal role as soon as school started up for her again in the fall.

“No,” Scarlet said, playing with the straw in her glass. Then she shrugged. “My parents, for as much as they expect of me, have never needed me to beat people over the head with a Bible, screaming my beliefs in their face. I’m not perfect, and I never will be. Nor do I think that the God I believe in
expects
me to be perfect. And I think there’s more to your personal faith than never saying a swear word, or making sure you’re in a church pew every week, or being able to memorize scripture at the drop of a hat. I think it’s more important to treat people in a way that backs up your faith with actions, not just hyperbole that impresses people.”

“Wow.” Adele sat back in her chair, watching Scarlet with assessing eyes. “That’s pretty fuckin’ deep, Jennings. I’d listen to you preach any day, if you ever want to take over for your dad.”

We all laughed, and the subject switched to lighter things, like school and football, some of the people we went to high school with. Adele was maybe a bit more reserved than she would be if it was just me, and the subject of Nathan never came up, but maybe it was good for her that way, to just have fun and relax.

Scarlet stood after a while, excusing herself to get a glass of water from the bar, since our waitress had long since deserted us.

“Holy shit, Leo,” Adele said after she’d left, slugging me in the arm. “You might as well have heart eyes bulging from your head right now, you little skank.”

“How does that make me a skank, exactly?”

“Oh shut up, I wasn’t being literal. Obviously.” She leaned in toward me, poking a finger in my chest. “You like her. Like
, like her
like her.”

“Adele,” I swatted her hand away, “we’re not in middle school.” Denard’s advice from a couple of weeks ago flashed through my head. If I couldn’t admit to people who matter that Scarlet matters? I probably didn’t deserve her. Didn't deserve
anything
from her. So I groaned and met Adele’s eyes. “Okay, fine. Yes. I
like her
like her.”

Adele squealed, a sound that I was quite sure I’d never heard from her before. “Leo! And she’s normal! This is so huge for you!”

“Honestly, I’m never taking you anywhere ever again if you don’t chill the hell out. And Scarlet doesn’t know, so could you
please
pipe down?”

“Oh, this is too good. I’m sorry.” She laughed and wiped at her eyes. Then she sat up, leaning around me to stare at the bar. “I tell you what, Madsen. If she doesn’t know? You might want to go tell her now.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why?”

“Because someone else is about to piss on your fire hydrant.”

“What?” I turned in my chair, and then stood without thinking. Some dude, tall and thin, was grinning at Scarlet, where she was still waiting for her water. He leaned closer to her, whispered something in her ear. For a second, I waited for her to shove him back, or look at me for help, but she didn’t. She
laughed
. Not even her fake laugh. A real one. That made her toss her hair back and look fucking gorgeous.

“Oh, hell no,” I said and marched over, the sound of Adele’s delighted laughter behind me.

I
n the fourteen
steps that it took me to get from our small, round table to the bar, I probably should have formulated a plan. I didn’t.

The only thing I knew was that I
could not
get into a fight. Coach would have my ass, and would more than likely bench me for a couple games if law enforcement had to get involved. And at this moment? I was feeling murderous, so someone would have to call the cops if I let myself go that far. There was no fucking way Gumby Boy would be able to stop me.

“Hey you,” I said when I reached her side. Her face lifted in surprise, not anger, which was good. I didn’t give Gumby Boy a second of my attention. I’d only do that if he was an idiot and didn’t walk away.

Scarlet turned, a smile spreading over her finely carved features. “Hey yourself. Did you need a water too?”

I shook my head, stepping into her so that she had no choice but to back completely up to the bar.

“I’m uhh, I’ll just go,” Gumby Boy stammered before he turned and walked away. What a punk-ass. How could he not see that Scarlet was worth getting his ass beat?

“Why were you talking to him?” I asked, bracing my hands on the bar top on either side of her waist. The material of her shirt brushed up against my arms, I was so close to her.

“Are you jealous?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes.”

Scarlet swallowed, the smile dropping off of her face. “Why?”

While our eyes stayed locked, our faces so close that I could see the tiny specks of gold around her irises, I didn’t want to play it off, make a joke so she didn’t see what was bubbling up inside of me. “Because I don’t want you to smile at any man like that, if he’s not me.”

Obviously she thought I was kidding, attempting to play some dick boyfriend role for fun, because she shoved at my shoulder with a laugh. I didn’t budge. Actually I did, just not in the direction that she was attempting. I stepped closer until I was flush up against her. The orange juice from her drink smelled sweet on her breath, but I didn’t kiss her. All I did was let her look at me, look
in
me, so she could see how fucking serious I was.

“Leo,” she said, shaking her head in obvious confusion. “What do you expect me to say to that?”

Her question, which she had every right to ask, made me wish that I’d told her what I felt when I looked at her, when she smiled, when she kissed or touched me. I wished that she knew even a fraction of what had been building up inside of me for weeks. Because there was no way that she
could
know. But this wasn’t the place or the time.

I shook my head, taking my hands away from the bar so that I could cup her face. “I don’t expect you to say anything, Scarlet.”

Before she could respond, I shifted so that I could fit my lips to hers. Her top lip curved perfectly between both of mine, and I ran my tongue across it before moving to her bottom lip. When her hands came to rest on my biceps, I felt the tremble in her fingers.

She kissed me back, angling her head when I swept my tongue against hers. Everything around me dimmed, except her. She stayed in vivid, blinding color that I could see behind my closed eyelids.

After a few moments, the sound of catcalls and applause filtered through my brain and I pulled away. Scarlet’s mouth was red, her lips puffy, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, judging by the look in her eyes.

“Will you come home with me?” I whispered, dragging my thumb along her cheekbone, under her jaw, over her bottom lip. “The house is empty, I promise.”

It only took her a second before she nodded, never taking her eyes away from mine. I clasped her hand while we went to say a brief goodbye to Adele, who grinned at us like the cat who’d stolen the cream.

Scarlet let me drive, and the entire ride back to my place felt sacred, like neither one of us dared to open our mouth and break the spell. The whole way, I gripped her fingers between my own, sliding my thumb over the sharp, curved bones of her knuckles underneath her silk-soft skin.

My house was dark when I pulled the car into the driveway, and in silence, she followed me through the entryway and up the stairs.

When I closed the door to my bedroom, I turned to her, pinning her in place with my eyes. “No lists tonight. Just us.”

There was a desperate gleam in her eye, like she wanted to ask me what the hell was going on, but she didn’t. She just nodded, stepping into my arms when I opened them. Our mouths met frantically, kissing in the way we were used to. But for the first time, with any woman, I wanted to feel. Wanted to memorize the texture of her lips and the way her body moved under my own without the frenzied chase for orgasm clouding my head.

I slowed the kiss, teasing her with my tongue. I touched her slowly, pushed my hand up under her shirt and onto the warm, soft skin of her back. We staggered for a moment when she tripped over a pair of shoes I’d left out, and then laughed into each other’s mouths.

“Leo,” Scarlet whispered when I dragged my nose down the line of her neck, gathering her body as close to mine as humanly possible.

I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, without my heart tumbling out of my mouth. Her hands weren’t trembling anymore when she tugged my shirt up, felt down my stomach and dragged a finger through my happy trail. Red-hot lust surged through my veins, racing with my blood, but I breathed through it, pulling her shirt up and over her head. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, and I gathered it in one hand to pull it to one side.

Before I could turn her around, Scarlet reached a hand behind her back to unhook her white cotton bra. It stayed hooked up over her shoulders while I kissed her again, pulling the air from her lungs and into my own.

I was so hard, painfully hard, but this was something I refused to rush.

We fell back onto my bed together, our mouths still fused. Scarlet’s hands on my body demanded that I move faster and grip harder, break the seams on our clothes, pound and sweat and bruise.

Unbidden, my breath picked up and my hips pushed into hers when her nails dug into my scalp.

“Yes,” she hissed into my mouth, tugging on my bottom lip with her teeth.

“God, you feel so good.” I pushed my hand underneath her loosened bra, gloried in the way her flesh filled my palm.

Then her phone rang in her purse. We both froze, panting onto each other’s lips.

“They’ll leave a message if it’s important,” I whispered, panic at losing this moment making my blood run cold for one sharp moment. Indecision blanketed her face until I sank against her mouth again, groaning at the feel of her tongue against my own. She kissed me back as soon as the phone stopped ringing, the silence freeing her of uncertainty.

I ripped the bra off her arms, the slow pace from before suddenly gone. She felt it too, and her hands clawed at my belt in an attempt to undo it. I sucked one nipple into my mouth and she arched up beneath me.

Her phone rang again. The sharp trilling sound making her pull away from me.

“What the hell?” I groaned, flopping onto my back on the mattress. Scarlet heaved a sigh that made me smile, and went to answer the phone.