Read Online Worn Me Down (Playing With Fire, #3) by T.E. Sivec, Tara Sivec - Free Book Online Page A

pants and her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I step closer to her until I can feel the heat of her body against mine. Her hand digs into my bicep as if she’s trying to hold me in place and her mouth drops open, her breath coming out a little faster. Her lips are full and beautiful and I bet they taste even better. I can feel her breasts pressed against my chest and I want to slip my hand under her shirt and feel their fullness in my palm.
    Reaching my hand up, I brush her hair off of one shoulder with the tips of my fingers just so I can touch her. Glancing down at the bare skin of her collarbone, I see a scar marking her skin. It’s an old scar, faded and barely visible, but it’s there. It’s a thin line about three inches long that goes from her collarbone over to her shoulder, disappearing under the edge of the shirt. I’ve seen scars like that before; I have scars like this – all of them the result of being on the receiving end of a knife blade. I stare in fascination at the mark and wonder what the fuck she’s doing with something like this on her body.
    Not being able to help myself, I run my finger back and forth over the scar and ask. “Did you get into a knife fight or something?”
    I can’t hide the humor in my voice because the idea of Gwen being in any kind of a fight is funny. Not because she couldn’t handle it, but because whoever decided to fight her probably wouldn’t be breathing topside anymore. She’d kick their ass and make them sorry they ever crossed her path. I’m even a little leery of castration standing this close to her, but I’m too mesmerized by the smoothness of her skin under my fingertips to shield the boys from her imminent wrath.
    Gwen’s eyes blink in confusion and she looks away from me to crane her neck and stare down at the spot on her skin I’m still touching. I watch the softness in her face disappear as she quickly takes a step back from me. Whatever little moment we had going on just a few seconds ago is long gone. She grabs her hair and pulls it back to the front of her shoulder before turning away from me, grabbing her purse and heading for the door.
    “So, I’ll just see you tonight then at Brady’s apartment? Seven o’clock should be fine.”
    With that, she’s out the door and I’m standing here, my fingers still burning from the feel of her skin, wondering what the fuck just happened.
    Again.
    *     *     *
    “Can I put pink lipstick on you?”
    “No.”
    “What about pink nail polish?”
    “No.”
    “I think a pink bow would look really pretty in your hair.”
    “No.”
    Emma huffs and crosses her arms in front of her, so much like her mother it makes me want to laugh. “Don’t you want to do anything fun?”
    Stuffing my hands in the front pockets of my jeans, I glance around her room at the fucking sea of pink. Pink toys, pink blankets, pink stuffed animals – it looks like a bottle of Pepto exploded and it’s starting to give me hives.
    “Isn’t it time for you to go to bed?” I question.
    “It’s only seven-thirty.”
    I shrug. “And?”
    “And, I don’t go to bed until nine.”
    Jesus Christ. What the hell was I thinking offering to babysit Gwen’s kid? I don’t know how to play with kids. Shit, I didn’t even know how to play when I was a kid. My first foster mother owned a diner put me to work when I was six years old. I had to learn how to wash and dry dishes in kindergarten.
    “Um, how about we play Navy SEAL?”
    She looks at me like I’m crazy. I probably am.
    Getting down on my knees so I’m closer to her level, I look around the room cautiously and speak in a low voice. “That Barbie over there in the pink dress hiding behind the stuffed dog is a high level insurgent. Do we capture or kill, soldier?”
    Emma looks at me with wide eyes for a moment and I wonder if this is the dumbest idea ever. Then, she glances over at the Barbie in question, bends her