Games of Fire

by Airicka Phoenix

  She shook her head slowly, thinking hard. “I don’t like seafood with legs.”

  His eyebrow rose. “Seafood with legs?”

  She made a scuttling motion with her fingers across the table. “Crabs, shrimp, lobsters … things that scurry around … ugh!”

  He rolled his tongue over his teeth. “So you like fish.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Uh … no.”

  “But they don’t have legs.”

  She tactfully averted her eyes and scratched the back of her head. “They have eyes.”

  Spencer laughed, a deep, belly rumbling chuckle that infected her, making her giggle along with him.

  “And you think I’m weird?” he wheezed through choked gasps.

  “Shut up!” She poked at a mushroom on her pizza. “Fish have creepy, bulging eyes. It’s disgusting!”

  He sobered slightly, shaking his head. “You have issues.”

  “So, why did you quit Chateau Pierre?” she asked, detouring the topic.

  Spencer shrugged, going back to taking apart his pizza, which she was quickly finding endearing. “I was in a bad place. I needed change.”

  “Well, thank you for bringing me here. I really love it.”

  His fingers paused in his picking and his head came up. His eyes locked on hers. “You’re welcome.”

  For such a tense beginning, the evening ended well with Spencer leading Sophie through the restaurant, telling her all the insane mishaps he’d had while working for Pierre. Sophie was in tears by the time they reached the back door. Her sides ached and she had to beg him to stop.

  “But I’m getting to the best part!” he complained, laughing.

  Sophie stopped walking and turned to him. “Better than dumping the pasta on the woman’s head?”

  “Okay, maybe not that good, but … ” He swept open the drapes and motioned her ahead. “She came back the next day—”

  “She didn’t!” she gasped, ducking under his arm.

  The walk from the curtain to the door was much shorter now that she knew what to expect on the other side. She reached the door first and twisted it open, engulfing them in a blistering gust of wet wind. She shivered, drawing her jacket closer around her body.

  “She asked for a different server,” Spencer finished, following her down the rickety steps.

  Sophie laughed, shaking her head. “Can you blame her? You were an awful waiter!”

  “I was new and no one told me to balance out the tray.”

  “So you put all the heavy drinks on one side and the light plates on the other? Common sense need not apply, right?”

  He nudged her playfully with his elbow. “It made sense at the time.”

  She snickered, opening her mouth to respond when the ground slipped from beneath her feet, flinging her backwards. Her yelp died on her lips as she grappled for the first solid object to hang on to and caught Spencer’s arm. Caught unaware, Spencer had no time to brace his feet before he, too, was yanked down after her. They landed in a tangled heap across the black, wet asphalt, panting and groaning.

  Spencer righted himself first, rolling onto his knees. “All right?”

  “Ow!” she moaned, rubbing her backside. “You were supposed to be all heroic and catch me.”

  He snorted. “I’ll be more vigilant next time.”

  They rose gingerly to their feet, dusting off mud from their pants and jackets.

  Sophie glanced up and caught Spencer watching her with a wary look in his eyes. “What?”

  He shook his head, straightening his jacket. “Nothing. Here.” He stretched out his arm, hand splayed open.

  She didn’t mean to, but she stiffened. Her gaze dropped to the long, slender fingers reaching for her. Her stomach fluttered. Her tongue snaked out, dampening her suddenly dry lips. Her brain deliberated the wisdom of touching him.

  “I won’t bite,” he said, probably meaning it as a joke.

  “Oh if that were my only problem,” she sighed under her breath.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  She took his hand, slipping her icy fingers through his. The electric sparks tore a fiery path down the length of her arm, nearly melting the ice beneath their feet. She shivered involuntarily and felt his fingers flex.

  “All right?” Had his voice always been so husky?

  She dampened her lips. “Yeah … ” The single word died in her throat as she was pulled towards him. Her heart tripped. Her lungs stilled. The heat of his body rushed over her with the subtle scent of peppermint, leather, spices and smoke.

  A soft mist blew around them. Raindrops glistened in his hair, shimmering under the pale glow of the light post. His eyes were shadowed beneath wispy fringes, but the silver in them glinted like pools of liquid mercury. Her breath caught. It must have made a sound because his fingers tightened. His shaky exhale whispered across her face.

  “This,” he whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “Is why you are so bad for me.”

  “I’m still pretty sure that’s my line,” she murmured.

  The corner of his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “Watch your step.”

  He kept a firm grip on her hand as he edged around the frozen puddle towards the Neon parked only five feet away. It took two seconds to realize something was horribly wrong.

  The windshield was busted, a series of shattered starbursts that cobwebbed across the length. All four windows were gone, blown inward to glisten across the upholstery like bits of diamond. The back window was dented inwards, the glass splintered. Someone had torn the seats, pulling out fluff to join the debris. Long gashes were carved into the sides. The lights were busted all around and the tires were slashed. Dents pockmarked the hood as if someone had used it as a trampoline. The once beautiful car was transformed into a heaping pile of scrap metal.

  “What the hell?” Spencer released Sophie’s hand to hurry to the car, as if he could somehow save it.

  “Don’t touch it!” Sophie said before he could wrench open the driver’s side door. “We have to call the police.”

  “Who the hell would do this?” he exclaimed as Sophie dug out her cell phone and began dialing.

  She never got the chance to answer as the dispatcher picked up on the other side. She gave them their location and the nature of their call. She was told to remain on scene and a cruiser would be by soon, which meant anywhere between one to ten hours. She called her mom next.

  “Get back inside the restaurant!” her mother told her as soon as Sophie told her what happened. “Stay there and I’ll come get both of you!”

  Sophie hung up. She stuffed her phone into her pocket and hurried to where Spencer stood, staring a little dazed at the destruction of his mother’s car.

  “Spencer?” She took his sleeve lightly. “Come on. My mom is on her way.”

  “I can’t just leave—”

  She tightened her hold on him. “The person who did this could still be out here. We should—”

  It was the wrong thing to say. The blank void was instantly replaced with a murderous rage. His lips curled back to bare his clenched teeth. “They won’t show themselves! They’re a coward!” His snarl echoed through the parking lot as if he were screaming into a microphone. Anyone within a mile could no doubt hear him.

  “Spencer, stop—”

  “Why else are they hiding?” He turned on the spot. “Well? Are you enjoying your handiwork? Come out and give me a try!"

  “Spencer!” She grabbed his lapel, shaking him until he stopped and turned those pools of ebony down to her face. “Come inside with me. Please. I’m scared.” It wasn’t entirely a lie.

  His nostrils flared as he growled deep in his throat. The vicious sound reverberated through the night, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the sweeping spray of winter whipping around them with the wind. But his hand settled lightly on her elbow and he was guiding her back the length of the parking lot to the door. He pushed her through
the door first before stepping in behind her and shutting them in. Sophie didn’t exhale the breath lodged in her throat until the door clicked closed, folding them in darkness.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Only his heavy breathing assured her he was there with her when he failed to respond. Sophie weighed her next decision carefully before reaching across the cramped distance and feeling through the dark for him. Her fingers brushed his chest. His heart pounded through the material of his shirt where his jacket hung open. She let her fingers slide over to his arm, grateful for the blindness keeping him from seeing just how red hot her face was. The only boy she’d ever been close to was Joe and even their friendship hadn’t reached the point of touching.

  “It’ll be all right,” she murmured.

  “That was my mom’s car,” he said evenly.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  He exhaled, filling the tight space with the scent of peppermint. His body jerked and a thump erupted around them as he slumped back into the wall. Sophie began to let her hand drop to her side, not sure what else to do with it, not sure he wanted her to keep touching him. Instead, she found her fingers captured and laced through his. Tingles erupted at every point their flesh met and zapped up her arm in currents. Fear of jolting him back to his senses kept her mouth sealed shut, even when all she wanted to do was squeal with giddy delight.

  Boy she had issues.

  “You’re shaking.”

  She hadn’t realized she was until he pointed it out, but her entire body quivered from a concoction of fear and cold and heat. The odd brew of sensations were so conflicting, she had no idea which to focus on first. Then she wasn’t worrying about anything.

  His arm slipped around her middle, the one not still cradling her hand, and she was drawn into his chest. Every nerve ending in her body crackled to life while her nervous system shut down completely, freezing her muscles into rigid slabs. Her breath wedged in her lungs, stapled there in pure refusal to be released. Its rejection spurred her heart into an erratic gallop that hurt. Beneath the hand she braced against his chest, his heart raced to match hers, threatening to burst out into her palm.

  “Sophie?” Her name was a soft tattoo of his lips brushing the curve of her cheek. Had he always been that close? The tremor in her knees assured her no, but she couldn’t be certain of anything, except how simple it would be to turn her face two inches to the left. Would he freak out? Would he push her away? Would he kiss her back? Then she realized he was waiting for her response.

  “Yes?” The single word was a choked whisper dripping from parted lips.

  The fingers laced through hers trembled. They tightened ever so slightly. She could have sworn his unsteady breaths hadn’t been that close to her mouth only moments ago. Unconsciously, her fingers curled into the soft fabric of his shirt. She was painfully aware of his thighs pressing into hers as she stood paralyzed between his parted legs and the heat burning through fabric in all the places their bodies touched. She wondered if he could feel it as well.

  “Damn it!” She heard him half groan, half growl before the hand pressed into her lower spine lifted and fisted into her hair. She barely had the chance to gasp when his mouth crashed on hers, suffocating all rational thought.

  It was war. There was no other way to describe the rage behind his attacking lips. Passion and fire seemed to roar through the tight space around them, burning them to ashes as he destroyed her senses with every desperate plunder of his tongue, every nip and tug of his teeth. The floor beneath her feet vanished. The world spun in a blur of colors and sounds so bright and beautiful it was impossible to put a name to them. Her fingers grappled at him, terrified that she would plummet into time and space if she didn’t find something constant to hold. Her arms wound their way around his neck, anchoring her to him. His height forced her onto her toes, consuming every spare inch of space between them until they were a melded knot of flesh. His fingers pressed between their bodies, groping and searching until he found the zipper on her jacket. He had it open in seconds, pushing apart the suffocating material while thrusting her away. Her back struck the opposite wall. She was allowed only a single whimper of protest before he was on her again, ripping off her jacket and molding her to him. His mouth bruised hers with every demanding entrance. She was too weak to resist the prodding of his tongue, too unwilling to make him stop. Her fingers shook and fumbled, but she managed to shove his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. He jerked it off and let it join hers at their feet. Without the bulk, the extra padding and fabric, the heat seemed to blister between them, growing nearly unbearably painful.

  His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her sweater, creeping up to skim against the bare flesh of her waist.

  Sophie moaned. Her fingers curled into his hair as she drew him tighter against her.

  “Spencer … ” His name left her lips in a pleading whisper, only to be shattered by the door flying open and several silhouettes eclipsing the sudden flood of light.

  Sophie and Spencer flew apart as though caught robbing a bank. The cramped space didn’t allow for very much movement, but Spencer managed to press himself into the opposite wall, trying his best to appear as though nothing had just taken place. But there was no hiding their labored breathing, the rumpled state of their clothes or the complete disarray of their hair. And if that wasn’t enough to convince the intruder of the scene they’d interrupted, both their lips were swollen, their faces flushed and Sophie was trembling visibly.

  “Spencer? Sophia?” Her mother stomped into the narrow foyer.

  Sophie raised an unsteady hand and waved, keeping her face down, hiding it behind a curtain of hair. “Hey Mom!” Great timing!

  “What—”

  “Are you the two who phoned the police?” Behind her mother’s irate frame stood Jackie, a small, pale hand pressed over her mouth, probably out of shock. Behind her were two police officers.

  Willing herself not to combust on the spot, Sophie cleared her throat and faced the group, hoping she looked like she had nothing to be guilty about. “Yeah, that was me.”

  The police took their statements, asked them a million questions about enemies and if they’d seen anything out of the ordinary. They were asked if they’d recently been threatened and if they were into drugs. The later question was aimed at Spencer, who frowned and scowled at the pair. They talked to Pierre who hurried out to see what the commotion was all about. He wrung his hands frantically and insisted vehemently that things like that never happened at his establishment. The entire ordeal was determined by the surly faced officer as a random act of violence, but they would further investigate the matter and get back to them soon.

  Finally, while they took inventory of the destroyed vehicle for their report and insurance purposes, Sophie left her mother’s side for the first time since she’d been caught groping Spencer in the back entrance of the restaurant. Her mother had been watching her like a hawk, no doubt afraid Sophie might jump Spencer and continue where they’d been interrupted. As tempting as the thought was, Sophie was cold, tired and harboring the mother of all headaches. She wanted nothing more than the chance to feel her toes again. Spencer had fled the moment the police were finished interrogating him. He sat in the back of her mother’s car, head tipped back, eyes closed, looking quite comfortable. He opened his eyes and turned his head towards her when she slipped in beside him.

  She offered him a small smile. “How are you?”

  He sighed, rolling his head upright to stare at the ceiling. “This has probably been the most interesting night ever.”

  “I’m sorry about your mom’s car.”

  Spencer shrugged. “Not your fault. Wish I knew who did it.”

  Part of her was relieved he didn’t. The raw fury she’d seen scorching across his face earlier had frightened her more than the situation had. Not fear of him, but fear for the person responsible.

  “Will your mom be okay?” she asked instead,
changing the topic.

  He jerked his shoulders again. “She’s tough.”

  “Well, despite this, I really had a great time,” she said when he didn’t elaborate. “Thank you.”

  His head rolled to the side once more. A ghost of a smile twisted his lips. “Wait till you see what I have in store for next time.”

  Sophie bit her lip, restraining the full on grin threatening to split her face and the urge to ask if there would be a next time. Instead, she murmured, “Can’t wait.”

  The car doors opened before he could respond and their moms got into the front, all the while chattering about the accident. Next to Jackie’s car, a tow track was loading the battered heap onto the flatbed and strapping it into place.

  “Unbelievable,” her mother was saying as she started home.

  “It’ll be all right,” Jackie assured her, but didn’t sound fully convinced.

  “Well, you just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help!”

  Jackie said something that was drowned out by the squeak and grind of the window wipers sweeping across glass. Sophie tossed a sidelong glance in Spencer’s direction, but he had his face turned away towards his window. His arm was raised, his teeth working on his thumb nail. Something in the hard lines etched into his brow had her leaning ever so slightly towards him and whispering, “I thought that was a gross habit.”

  He blinked. His hand dropped into his lap and he turned his head towards her. “What?”

  She smiled a little, nodding with her chin towards his hand.

  He followed the gesture, confusion darkening his eyes before realization dawned. He snorted, the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a grin that erased the anxiety creasing his brow. He nudged her playfully with his elbow. “Quiet!”

  She stifled a laugh.

  In no time at all, her mother was pulling into their driveway and cutting the engine. The two in front leapt out of the car first, both making plans for the next day. Something about church for the day after that was silenced when they both slammed their doors shut, locking Sophie in the car with Spencer.