Chapter Three
What a jackass! I thought to myself as I watched Mace walk himself across the road to Trip's. I was left standing on shaky legs, my nipples strained against the thin cotton of my tank while I stared after him like some lust-sick fool. How dare he touch me and make a comment like that only to walk away like it didn't affect his ass in the least! Annoyed at his cocky attitude, I decided two could play at the game he started. If he wanted me quivering at his feet, then he'd be in for one hell of a wakeup call.
Scarlett Garcia fell at the feet of no gloriously delicious man!
I turned and stomped toward my house in my “sexy as fuck” boots. I needed a nice hot shower. While I was in there, my mind was forming a plan to make him wish he’d never crossed me. Payback was going to be so sweet and it would be served with an extra side of sexy. One last eye sweep of the floor length mirror, and I’d declared myself ready to turn heads, one head in particular.
Figuring I needed something sexy as sin to get his attention but not trashy, I’d worn my favorite blood-red Mary Jane peep toe pumps so my black toenails with tiny cherries could be seen. a simple skintight sleek, black pencil skirt that accentuated my hips and ass, ending just above my knees, teamed with a silk red blouse which draped in front, giving a tiny hint of cleavage, tied with a string across my shoulder blades and another across my lower back. It barely covered my sides, leaving the rest of my back completely bare showcasing my favorite tattoo.
Happy with my image, I slowly slipped on a pair of red see-through, barely-there panties. My finishing touch that always helped to make me feel as sexy as hell. With a smile on my face, I strutted out the front door, confident with the knowledge Mace had no idea Trip had invited me to his welcome home party.
I had known Mace’s family, with the exception of Mace himself, for almost three years. I’d become fast friends with Trip after a blind date gone wrong. His mother, Marcy, was so sweet and caring; I adored her. Marcy was the mother I wished I’d had growing up rather than the stone-cold selfish woman I was given. She was everything I imagined a real mother would be, open and kind, always with a loving word to say; chastised her children when they needed it, even though they were grown, but always did it with humor and a warmth that left no doubt she loved them regardless. She was a short-framed round woman with greying hair and a soft smile. Since I’d know the family, I had been taken in as a sort of surrogate child, so when I stepped out of line, Marcy had no qualms telling me off like I was one of her own. She even insisted I call her Mom. I had been told every friend of the kids growing up had been coerced to do the same.
Trip answered the door. He looked me up and down with a knowing smirk and a head shake. Leaning forward for a one-armed hug, he quietly asked, “Scar, are you trying to kill him from loss of blood to the brain?”
“Now why would you think that?” I smiled and batted my eyelashes. Trip never missed a beat; he knew exactly what I was up to.
“God help the fucking lot of us,” he mumbled, chuckling as he walked off.
I made my way through the house and was met with the usual boisterous noise that came from the Torres family being in one house together; I stopped to kiss Milla on the cheek quickly, before being engulfed in a big soft hug from Marcy. Pulling back, I heard the rumble of a voice from somewhere behind me. “Scarlett? I didn't expect you to be here.”
His voice instantly sent a shiver running through me. I briefly wondered how a man’s voice could be so sinfully sexy, and sound so damn erotic.
I turned, looked up and was met with Mace's beautiful blue eyes flashing with mild surprise, followed by desire as he did a slow, blatant body scan. He was dressed much like he had been earlier in the day, except the jeans he wore now were well-worn and fitted to his hips and legs like they were custom made. His t-shirt had been swapped for a black long-sleeved button-down, rolled up to the middle of his thick, sinewy forearms.
I smirked, “Mace, how’s your tattoo feeling?”
To my surprise, he graced me with a thousand-watt, panty-dropping smile, the first I had seen from him, making me swoon slightly before I corrected myself.
Traitorous body!
Needing a few moments, I turned back and asked, “What do you want me to do in the kitchen, Mom?”
Marcy looked from Mace and back to me again, eyes twinkling slightly with a mischievous look before she spoke. “Dip, sweetheart. You make it better than anyone else.” She patted me on the backside as I walked past, calling out to Mace who was still watching me. “Mace, get some drinks will you, honey?”
On the way to the kitchen, I had to squeeze past Mace's bulky frame which was partially blocking the doorway. As I did, my ass gently brushed his jean-covered crotch, sending a tingle down my spine and butterflies fluttering in my belly. I’d briefly noted his intake of breath as I approached the long marble countertop which was covered in an array of dishes.
A little too pleased with myself, I was wiping down the counter top when Haven arrived. I could hear her loudly greeting the family, laughing.
Conversation was loud as I helped with the food and drinks. Seeing the perfect opportunity to mess with him, I leaned over Mace to put a big dish of potatoes on the large dining-room table when he knocked his water glass. With unbelievably quick reflexes, he righted it before it spilled. I put a hand to his enormous shoulder, leaned in close and whispered, “Careful, Mace, you don’t wanna be getting me all wet now do you?” The brazen vixen in me whooped at the opportunity to talk dirty. Score 1 to me!
A strained groan came from his throat as he picked up his beer and downed the rest of it in one long gulp. “Playin’ with fire there, babe,” he ground out under his breath.
“Oh, but I like when it’s hot, Mace,” I virtually purred, biting down on my lip to stop from laughing at his reaction.
Somehow, I found myself seated next to Mace when it was time to eat, which worked perfectly considering I still had work to do. Everybody loaded up their plates with the ridiculous amount of food that could’ve fed an army, and dug in. The table was filled with Trip’s family all eating and chatting animatedly.
I noticed the appreciative spark in Mace's eyes when I leaned forward to pick up my drink, revealing the slight swell of my breast from the side of my blouse. He paused and leaned in slightly closer, whispering in a strained voice, “Not sure what's better, that shirt or those boots you had on earlier.”
I looked at him through my peripheral vision and took a slow drink, licking my lips with exaggeration. His eyes grew darker and hooded with desire. I decided it was time to up the ante. Just as he took in a mouthful of his own drink, I reached under the table and ran my manicured red-tipped fingers up the inside of his leg. A whisper soft touch starting from above his knee, up further and further, only stopping millimeters from his jean-clad cock. He went rigid with surprise. A little too surprised. He choked on his beer, coughing and sputtering, causing all four heads to pop up and stare at the intentional scene I’d caused.
Trying to hide my victory grin, Trip looked over at me with a knowing smile, tipping the corners of his lips briefly, only to look down at his food quickly.
Milla immediately asked, “You okay, Mace?”
I gave him a small pat on the back telling him as sincerely as I could muster, “You should probably be more careful there.” It earned me a delicious scowl that made his face look sexy, regardless of the incredulous expression he shot my way. I quickly changed the subject and struck up a conversation with Haven, though I didn’t miss the smile he tried hiding behind his fork full of food.
After dinner was over, I was standing in the kitchen, bent over, stacking the dishwasher when I felt a hard heat at my back. Straightening slightly, a large hand wrapped around my hip causing my heart rate to increase and my nipples to instantly pebble. Mace's head tipped to the side, lips hovering over my neck. My breathing hitched, praying for his sensual lips to touch my neck
“What are you doing?” I asked in a choked voice, unable to believe the instant effect he had on my body.
“Babe, if you don't quit it, you’re going to find yourself bent over this counter with that sexy-ass skirt around your waist, and I won’t give a shit who fucking walks in.” His breath blew on my sensitive skin sending a pool of wetness into my pretty panties.
I turned my face a fraction toward his and lied breathlessly, “Don't know what you’re talking about.”
He moved into me. His front plastered to my back. Placing his hand on the counter beside me and tightening his grip on my hip—effectively pinning me to the spot, he ground his impressive hard-on against my rear. “Oh, I think you know exactly what you’re doing. You win this round, Princess. Feel what you’ve done to me.”
Breathing heavily, I sunk into him. Just as I was about to grind my ass into him some more, he turned and walked back toward the rest of the party.
Well, shit!
I was pretty pleased knowing he was struggling with his self-control, mostly because he sure as hell wasn’t the only one on the edge.
A soft whimper escaped my lips as I gripped the cool edge of the marble counter and considered how damn good he was at this game. In three seconds flat, he’d made me want to throw him to the ground and do all sorts of nasty wicked things to his body, starting at that luscious but dirty fucking mouth of his.
I righted myself, sucked in a few deep breaths, steadied my jelly-like legs and made my way back into the living room to say goodnight.
I made it to my front door when I heard something behind me. Turning at the noise, I saw Mace step up in front of me. A million erotic thoughts passed through my equally dirty brain. I bit my lower lip slightly at the mental image of pushing him into my living room, dropping to my knees and spending a considerable amount of time and effort in finding out if he was as well-endowed as he felt to be. The idea of his thick—
Damn, girl. Get a hold of yourself!
I needed to shake those thoughts off and get my shit together; I’d only planned on messing with him a little, maybe just one night of fun; it had been far too long since I’d had a little fun. The butterflies, goose bumps and other nonsense were what concerned me. Men like Mace would only leave you heartbroken. This I knew from experience.
“Mace, what can I do for you?” I asked as I had looked up at his unusual blue eyes. I held my breath waiting for his answer.
Chapter Four
Scarlett stood there trying to play it cool, but I knew better. I could see how affected she was. Besides the fact, her nipples were making it pretty damn clear she was aroused; her eyes were reflecting exactly how I felt, which pleased me to no end.
She’d tortured me for two long Goddamn hours, from the second she walked in the door looking so sexy the devil himself would beg on his knees just for a taste of her. Her red silk shirt that only covered her front and sent glimpses of her perfect creamy breast every time she shifted a certain way, fuck me, it was a torture device. The constant crossing and uncrossing of those smooth killer legs were killing me—that was all before the vixen reached under the table, bringing back the hard-on from hell I had worked hard all night to tame.