Playing with Fire_Shen

by Shen, L. J.

  “You also told me to come here.” I sighed.

  “True.” She shrugged. “We’ve never done this before, and I really wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

  I shouldered my way to the first row of viewers as Karlie trailed behind me, changing the topic to her workload at school. I tried to tell myself that it was better that way. West wasn’t mine. His body belonged to everyone else, and his heart was unreachable to anyone on the planet, himself included.

  The fight in front of us came to an end.

  Then the drumrolls came.

  Max Riviera stepped onto an actual soap box and cupped the sides of his mouth.

  “And now, ladies and gents, to our main event. Knox Mason against the one and only. The man, the legend, the panty dropper who gives King David a run for his money”—he allowed a comical pause in which people snickered—“WEST. ST. CLAIRE!”

  People pumped their fists in the air as both men entered the ring. West’s shoulder brushed mine, the familiar scent of winter and male trickling into my nostrils, but he didn’t notice me. I clutched my Solo cup to my heart.

  Karlie elbowed me. “Well, if nothing else, it’ll be fun seeing him getting bitch-slapped a time or two.”

  “West’s goin’ to annihilate the poor guy.”

  But I was wrong.

  West didn’t annihilate Knox.

  He dang near killed him.

  Every time Knox tried to throw a punch, West dodged it and countered with something to knock his opponent out for five to eight seconds. A kick. A jab. Sometimes he grabbed the dude—and there was a lot of that dude—and threw him on the mat WWE style, for funsies.

  Fighting wasn’t a sport to West. It wasn’t even a hobby. It was akin to him changing his sheets or brushing his teeth. Just another mundane act that didn’t require any special effort. His body language was bored, languid. At some point, when Knox was on the mat folded into himself, holding his stomach and shaking in pain, West turned around and strolled in my direction. His eyes skimmed over the audience like he was looking for something—probably his fling for the night—and halted on me.

  Everything stopped.

  The room went quiet.

  Or maybe it didn’t, but I certainly blocked all the background noise as his eyes widened, first in shock—and then in anger. His brows drew together. Every muscle in his body tightened.

  Now he was looking like he was ready for a fight.

  “What the fuck are you doin—” He began with a low, gravelly hiss so dark and depraved it sent chills down my spine, but he never got to finish the sentence. Knox took the opportunity and threw a hook to the back of West’s head. It snapped sideways from the impact, and blood began to trickle out of his mouth. I yelped. West swiveled on his heel, and with a swift kick to the liver, followed by a sucker punch to the side of his face, sent Knox across the ring. The fighter hit a few crates, rolling around several times before falling headfirst onto the mat, undoubtedly knocked out.

  The crowd burst with cheers and whistles as Max ran toward Knox and crouched down, counting to ten.

  West didn’t bother staying in the ring to be announced as the winner. He charged toward me like a bat outta hell. I stumbled back, bumping into people as I tried to retreat. A tanked guy behind me burped, shoving me into West’s arms carelessly.

  “Dang, St. Claire’s horny tonight. Usually he waits until he splits the cash with Riviera.”

  “Whoa,” Karlie whispered, her eyes growing impossibly large.

  I was now tucked firmly in West’s arms, courtesy of the drunk guy. West shoved me back with open disgust, looking at me like I’d committed the worst crime on planet Earth.

  “Who let her in?” He let out a roar that ripped through the air and made everybody take a collective step back.

  Gingerly, the guy who’d sold us the tickets took a step forward, lifting his arm. “I … I did, bro. I recognized them from Sher U?”

  West’s eyes were still on me when he spoke. “You’re fired.”

  “But I …”

  “Fired,” West repeated with icy venom.

  My eyes burned with humiliation, and my entire face was so hot I felt dizzy with anger. “You promised not to draw attention to me,” I gritted between my teeth, barely a whisper.

  West threw me an impersonal glance, tsking. “I don’t promise. I told you not to come here. The moment you stepped foot in my realm—you fucking asked for attention, and now you’re going to get the wrong kind of it.”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “You’re un-fucking-welcome.”

  “Too bad you don’t own this place.” I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant and hating the eyes on me. “I’m staying. In fact, I’m going to go top off my drink. So if you’ll excuse me …”

  Metaphorically picking up the scraps of my pride, I turned around and began marching to the other side of the floor, knowing Karlie would follow.

  Guess I’d gotten my answer. West and I weren’t friends. Not even close.

  The crowd parted for me, mesmerized glares following my movements, when I was snatched and lifted in the air from behind.

  “You big pain in the ass.”

  West scooped me up, fireman-style, hurling me against his shoulder as he dashed up the stairs to the third floor. “Management” as he called it.

  “Where are you taking her?” someone in the crowd yelled, laughing.

  “Giving her a good spanking, then hurling her out the window.”

  Rage pulsated in my bloodstream. Not only was he screwing other people on a weekly basis, but he thought he owned me in some way. Picking me up, ordering me around, making me feel like a reject publicly.

  I rained fists on his back and shoulders.

  “Let go of me, you asshole.”

  He ignored me, climbing up the stairs. It scared me, just how light I was to him. He breezed up, like I was nothing more than a six-pack of beer.

  I heard Karlie crying out my name and saw Reign and Easton blocking her way up with polite smiles. It looked way rape-ier than it actually was, and, knowing West and I weren’t going to do much more than fight, I felt inclined to give my best friend a secretive thumbs-up, indicating that I wasn’t going to die in his hands.

  “Karlie will call the police,” I said anyway, pulling at his hair now. Lord. I was behaving like a wild animal. At the same time, I didn’t want to be alone with him. I knew I’d yield to temptation. Take whatever he’d offer me.

  “Shut up,” he snapped.

  “Not until you let me down.”

  “No thanks. Enough people have done that in your life.”

  “Who the hell are you to judge?”

  “The only person to notice your existence.”

  “I don’t want you to!”

  “You don’t have a fucking choice in the matter, and, unfortunately, neither do I.”

  He put me down with my back flat against the wall. He popped what looked like his dislocated elbow back into place with expertise, the sound of bone clicking back into place filling the air. I winced. He acted like it was no big deal.

  “There are two ways for you to get out of here. Through the stairs or the window. They depend on how you’re going to cooperate in the next few minutes. So I suggest you answer my questions and keep your sassy comments to someone who appreciates them. Question one—what the hell are you doing here, Tex?”

  He bared his teeth like a beast.

  I folded my arms over my chest, trying to hide my raw nerves with a smirk. “Enjoyin’ the fight. Pickin’ up a hookup, if I find someone interesting. Why? What do you care? We are nothing to each other.”

  “Wrong.” He got in my face. I had a feeling even he had no idea why, exactly, he was so furious with me. “We’re not nothing. You’re my friend, and I told you I don’t want you anywhere near this garbage place.”

  “This garbage place is yours.”

  “I am garbage. You’re not. We don’t play by the same rules.”

&
nbsp; I threw my head back and laughed, hurling my arms in the air for good measure. “You don’t get to dictate the rules for me. My life is my business, not yours. I wanted to be here. And guess what?” I felt vindictive and completely out of control. Adrenaline was pumping in my veins, hard. All I wanted in that moment was to hurt him in the same way he’d hurt me. Beyond repair. Rip his heart out of his chest and watch it bleed in my fist. “I might go and find a hookup tonight. I think it is high time. There are so many people to choose from here. I get why you like it at the Plaza.” I whistled, making a show of looking around me. “It’s a great place to get laid.”

  His jaw tensed, his brows pulling together as his eyes narrowed at me.

  “If you think you’re going to come into my club and get fucked by anyone who is not me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “Why not? You do it all the time. Whatever happened to your feminist streak?”

  “I don’t pick up chicks here.”

  “Of course you don’t.” I smiled.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Not recently.”

  “Define recently, West.”

  “Keeping tabs?”

  “People talk. So, Melanie wasn’t recent?” I couldn’t help myself, even though I hated how pathetic I sounded.

  His lips thinned. “Melanie was before my dick and I had the awkward conversation in which it told me it was dead-set on you.”

  “What about Tess?”

  “What about her?” He looked momentarily confused.

  “Was she before or after you and your dick sat down for the big talk? You said you weren’t opposed to havin’ sex with her again tonight.”

  Lord. I was admitting to eavesdropping on him. West’s face hadn’t changed. It was still a stony mask of brutality. He was trying hard not to snap.

  “You … you idiot.” He closed his eyes, exasperated, rubbing at his forehead. “I wanted to rile Reign up. He’s got the hots for her, and I’m still pissed about the way he treated you.”

  “No. You’re the idiot,” I screamed in his face, not caring if people heard us. I stabbed his chest with my finger. “You are mad at me and you don’t even know why. At least I know why I hate your guts. You keep givin’ me mixed signals. Kissin’ me, but not goin’ all the way. Why is that, West? Is this Grace-is-pretty thing just an act? To help my self-esteem?” I chuckled bitterly, but there were tears coating my eyes. I could feel them.

  Now it was his turn to bark out a dark laugh.

  “You think I care about your self-esteem? Gimme a break, Tex. You’re not that important to me.”

  I didn’t even bother to be offended, because I knew whatever came out of his mouth was a lie. Everything we felt toward one another—good and bad—spun together into something that was bigger than us.

  He took a step back, giving me a silent once-over. I knew I looked the best I ever had since he’d met me, but his expression didn’t give anything away.

  “What do you want to hear? That I have dreams of lowering your pretty blonde head down inside the food truck, unzipping myself, and making you deep-throat me until you choke on it? Would it help if I admitted that I want nothing more than fucking you six ways from Sunday? That I would devour your ass in a heartbeat, if it wasn’t for the fact we’re both majorly fucked-up—sorry, Tex, it’s the truth—and I’m getting out of this shithole as soon as I get my BA, and I don’t do serious relationships? Because you seem to know all that. You know why I didn’t kiss you.

  “Tess, Mel, those chicks … they know the score. I don’t know them. I don’t care about them. The aftermath, once my dick is out of their holes, is none of my business. I can’t kiss you, Grace.” He shook his head sadly, taking another step back. “I can barely even fucking look at you.”

  I was losing him. I knew that. And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to fight. The phoenix in me pushed through the sand, struggling under its weight, revealing more of its magnificent feathers. I rubbed at the broken flame ring on my finger, tipped my chin up, and gave the most seductive smile in my arsenal.

  “It’s okay to be scared.”

  His jaw locked, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow.

  “I’m not scared,” he said drily. But I knew him well enough to feel the undercurrent of anger rising up to the surface, dimming his green eyes.

  “Sure you aren’t.” I picked up my little clutch that had fallen from my hand while we were fighting, hoisting it over my shoulder, preparing to leave. “And I get what you are sayin’. It really is a bad idea to get involved. But that doesn’t mean I’m goin’ to be a saint. Too chicken shit to start somethin’ with me? No problem. I’ll go downstairs and find me a nice Southern boy lookin’ for commitment. One who won’t get scared when things get serious. One who would be happy to make the promises you are so frightened of. A guy who …”

  He pounced on me like a panther, causing my back to smash against the wall. I let out a cry, but he shut me up with his lips as his mouth crashed on mine with punishing force. He grabbed the pink ball cap he’d bought me and tossed it to the floor. I shook my head in protest, but he held me still, his strong fingers clasping my jaw in a bruising grip.

  “How about you let me take a nice good look at you, Texas? You talk a big game, but when it’s time to show up, you’re too wishy-washy for my taste. Want a dirty hookup with the town’s favorite fuckup? You got your wish. Now open up.” It was a cruel demand, not a request.

  I pressed my lips together, looking up at him under my lashes, waiting for his next move. I felt naked without my cap, and I hated that he watched me so intently, devouring me with his eyes.

  I kept reminding myself I had a lot of makeup on, and that it was very dark. He couldn’t see much. I shook inside his arms like a leaf but met his stare.

  “Having a change of heart?” I tried to taunt, my tone fragile, torn apart.

  He smirked sinisterly, looking like Satan himself. “I’m not like you, Texas. Once I make up my mind, it’s a done deal.”

  He darted his tongue out, tracing the seam of my lower lip ever so slowly. His hot, wet tongue felt like crushed velvet, leaving shivers in its wake. My whole body quaked, every inch of my skin turning into goose bumps that started spreading on the crown of my head, trickling to the tips of my toes. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire.

  I was on fire.

  And this time, I wanted to perish in his arms.

  “Who is chicken shit now?” he whispered into my mouth, teasingly coaxing it open with his expert tongue. I slammed my eyelids shut. His mouth was too much. Too warm. Too inviting. Too perfect. The smell of him—apple candy and sweat and alpha male—made me press my thighs together. I felt a damp spot of need settling on my panties. I was so wet I wanted to cry.

  “You’re going to break for me, like you always do, so you might as well do it with some of your pride intact,” he rasped into my lips. “Because once I decide to kiss you, nothing is going to stop me. Least of all your ass.”

  The nerve of this guy.

  My lips were still locked together. I let my eyes flutter open, my blues challenging his greens.

  He laced his fingers through mine beside our bodies, his thumb rubbing my flame ring knowingly. He brought the ring to his lips and whispered into it, his eyes still on mine.

  “I wish Gracie-Mae would let me kiss her silly.”

  He noticed.

  Noticed I whispered wishes into the ring. Noticed the little broken flame jewelry was my own candy apple.

  I wondered what he thought happened to my face. It shocked me that he hadn’t asked once since we became close.

  “Now, if you don’t open up and let me kiss the shit out of you in the next three seconds, Tex, I’m going to never try again. As I said, I never turn back on my word. Three. Two. O—”

  I opened up for him.

  His tongue found mine immediately, stroking it greedily. It was my first kiss since Tucker. This kiss tasted like beer and
Granny Smith and West. And West, I realized to my horror, tasted like home.

  I knew, with a clarity that made my gut coil into itself a thousand times over, that nothing and no one would taste like him.

  He pushed his chest against mine, and we both groaned, surprised by the force of the kiss. West propped his knee between my legs, shamefully grinding his hard-on over my stomach. He was throbbing, jerking behind his jeans.

  It was a molten, passionate kiss. Something I’d never experienced before. A mixture of wild and raw.

  I couldn’t tell exactly when our lips disconnected from one another, but his hands were still on my cheeks after it happened. He brushed his nose against mine, up and down, in a way I found impossibly soothing. I tried to take in a ragged breath, but I found that my chest was so tight with emotions, it was hard to draw oxygen into my lungs.

  “We’re playing with fire,” he croaked.

  I nodded, my eyes dropping from his gaze to his mouth. I wanted more. I didn’t feel ugly in his arms, even when his hand touched my scar.

  “I’ve walked through fire before, so I know what I’m getting into.” My voice shook around my words, but each of them tasted like redemption and change. Like rebirth. “I’m willing to pay the price.”

  He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, like it pained him to hear this. “I should walk away,” he said, mostly to himself.

  “I’m not too proud to follow,” I admitted.

  “If we go this route, it has to be casual, Texas. It has to. I can’t do promises. Or relationships. I’m as far from boyfriend material as humanly possible.”

  “You don’t know that,” I argued.

  He smiled sadly at me. “Trust me, baby, I do.”

  Something in his eyes told me that he had a good reason to make that statement. I grabbed his hand and turned it over so his inner bicep was to me.

  “Who is A?”

  I was already jealous of her. I wanted to be A. I wanted his undying devotion and heartbreak. I wanted to have the power to ignite the celestial turmoil she’d put him through.

  He took a step back, putting space between us.

  “She’s the one, isn’t she?”

  He looked away, down to the floor. “No promises,” he warned steely. It felt like he’d severed my veins and was watching me bleeding out. “It’s casual or nothing.”