Light Her Fire Read online

  “Really, Josh?” she said his name slowly, then deliberately flashed him a wider smile and leaned closer. “Are you thinking you’ll scare me off? You won’t. And if I’m going to make a trip to church, these sins you have in mind better involve my whole body.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. He had no clue what had gotten into Miss Bluelick tonight, but she turned a shopping trip into a roller-coaster ride. First, she hit him with the naked, hungry, completely uncensored gaze. The longing he’d sensed behind her eyes had made him fantasize about giving her every damn thing she was silently asking for, even as his better judgment warned him away. Then her chat with the old lady had sucked the fire right out of her. He could have sworn she’d been about to wheel her cart away and leave him alone with his better judgment and his aching balls. Now she’d surprised him again—and he really didn’t surprise easily—with her deliberate seduction. Determination and a hint of something else blazed in her eyes, and his better judgment was slowly going down in flames.

  “There’s nothing I’d like better than to give you a reason to go to church. But I left a couple of guys at the firehouse with one Gatorade and a couple of energy bars between them.” He tipped his head toward his cart. “I’ve got to drop this stuff at the station before they riot for food.”

  She batted her long eyelashes and ran her fingertip along the flap of his chest pocket. “You know, I’ve never been to the firehouse before.”

  His dick twitched as he imagined that finger trailing along the center of his chest, down his abdomen, and into his pants. “It’s a historic landmark, not to mention an impressive structure.”

  “Hmm.” The soft noise hummed in his ear, making him wonder what other noises she might make for him, given the right inspiration. “Why don’t you invite me for a hands-on, behind-the-scenes tour of your impressive…structure?”

  Her suggestion pushed him past the point of reason. A man could only withstand so much. Her mouth hovered close to his, her lips as full and ripe as the cherries on special this week. He grabbed her basket and dropped it into his cart. “Come on.”

  They were checked out and standing in the parking lot in record time. He hit the button on his key and unlocked his Yukon. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride back to your car once we’ve completed our…tour.”

  She hung back and chewed her lip, then shook her head. “No. I’ll follow in my car. After giving me such extensive access and satisfying all my raging…curiosity…you’ll be exhausted. There’s no need to drag you back here to drop me off when I’m perfectly capable of driving.”

  A part of him felt duty-bound to debate the exhausted part, but he shrugged instead. She wanted the ability to bring the evening to a quick, clean close? Fine with him. He appreciated an independent woman. “Okay. You know the way.”

  “That I do, Chief.” Her cat-with-a-mouse expression made him want to start the tour right then and there, in the back of his truck.

  …

  Melody followed Josh into the redbrick firehouse while her heart did its best to break out of her rib cage. Bravado and a decade’s worth of desperation had gotten her this far, but some of the ’tude had leaked away during the drive. Roger had been her one and only, and she’d been his. Talk about the blind leading the blind. All evidence suggested she sucked at seduction.

  Roger had insisted that wasn’t the case, and nothing she’d done, or failed to do, sexually, had contributed to his change in orientation or their breakup, but deep down she found it hard to ignore one cold, hard fact—he hadn’t been physically attracted to her. What if something about her repelled men? No matter how vehemently Roger denied it, no matter how much her rational side knew better, a small, insecure part of her couldn’t help wondering if she’d turned the one and only man she’d ever slept with gay.

  Josh glanced back at her just then, and the hunger in his eyes sent a flare of excitement straight through her. He looked ready to devour her, and certain highly personal and mostly neglected parts tingled in anticipation of being devoured. If this guy switched teams after being with her, she’d have no choice but to join a convent—no matter that she wasn’t Catholic.

  He held the red front door open, and their bodies brushed as she walked through. Her pulse spiked at his hard muscles and coiled energy momentarily pressed against her. Before she could tell her hyperactive hormones to settle, he gestured for her to precede him down the hall and up a staircase to the living quarters on the second level. She climbed the steep wooden stairs, trying to put some sway into her hips, and wondered if he noticed the effort. A door separated the stairway from the rest of the floor. She stopped there, because she wasn’t sure about the wisdom of walking through the door unannounced, and he bumped into her. The answer to her first question prodded her right where she’d imagined him looking. Yep, he’d noticed.

  “Sorry,” he murmured and wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. She barely heard him. All her focus zoomed to the contact around back. Long, hard, unapologetic contact, from a man who was practically a stranger, and wanted her with a hunger she’d never experienced before…in her life. She couldn’t help herself. She moaned, arched her spine, and pushed back against him. Good-bye, good girl.

  He cursed under his breath, and then lowered his hand from her waist to between her thighs. At the same time, he rocked his hips. The duel sensations of his fingers stroking her from the front while the thick, insistent ridge of his erection nudged her from behind nearly did her in. A needy sound slipped from her throat.

  “Oh, sweet mercy, don’t—”

  “Don’t what? Torture you until you think you’re going to die where you stand? How do you think I feel every single time I look at you? When you come into Jiffy Java, fiddle with the top button of your blouse while you decide between an iced coffee or a sweet tea, all I want to do is tear your shirt open, shove your bra out of my way, and feast on your breasts. How do you think I feel when you lean on the bar at Rawley’s, talking to your friends while I drive myself insane wondering what you’ve got on under your good-girl dress? Tortured doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

  Those diabolical fingers made a circling motion, and her knees threatened to buckle. “How shameless of me. I’m terribly”—oh, there he went again with the fingers—“sorry.” She wasn’t. Not in the least.

  “You will be, because I can’t let behavior like yours go unpunished.”

  She closed her eyes and a pathetically small scenario of erotic punishments paraded through her head. Waves of hot and cold washed over her. It was all she could do to find her voice, and keep it even while she asked, “What did you have in mind?”

  “When I get you alone the first thing I’m going to do is give you a pillow.”

  Uh-oh. She didn’t know the pillow game. “A pillow?” she asked, and immediately wondered if she’d just given him a big hint of exactly how tame her sex life had been up until tonight.

  “Yeah. Because once I get started, you’ll need something to bury your face in so nobody hears you pleading with me to let you come. Does that answer your question?”

  Why yes. Yes it did. So much so, for a moment she could only nod. “A-and then?”

  “At that point, I’m going to tongue-whip your clit until you don’t care if the whole fucking town hears you begging. Then, if you ask nicely, will I guide my very eager cock into you”—he rocked his hips again for emphasis, coaxing another moan out of her—“and give us both the relief we’re after. Are you ready, Miss Bluelick?”

  Beyond ready. This man wanted to get down and dirty…with her. No hesitation. No reluctance bordering on squeamishness at the idea of getting her naked and sweaty. He intended to exploit every inch of her for his pleasure. And hers. The prospect left her light-headed. “Yes…”

  “Good. By the time I’m done, you’re not going to be able to look at a firehouse without—”

  “Chief, that you I hear?” Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. “Need help with the groceries?”


  Josh jerked his hand from between her trembling legs a mere half second before the door in front of her swung open and she stood face-to-face with Rusty Deemer, her older sister’s eighth-grade boyfriend and one of the two assistant chiefs in the Bluelick FD. Heat swept into her cheeks as Josh took a small step back, leaving the phantom imprint of his erection stamped on her backside.

  Rusty broke the stunned silence first. “Melody! Hey girl.” He pulled her in for a quick hug, and she hoped he couldn’t detect how hard her heart was beating or the shallowness of her breath. “Long time no see. What brings you down here?”

  “Oh, just…you know…wanted to say hi and see the place. I’ve never been to the firehouse before.”

  The tall, burly redhead backed up, held the door for her. “Past time you paid us a visit, then.” He ushered her into the brightly lit kitchen and dining area. “Are you joining us for dinner?”

  “No, no. Josh offered me a tour of the station.”

  “The rest of the bags are in the truck,” Josh said, and tossed Rusty his keys. The stocky firefighter caught them without dropping the smile.

  “Be right back.” He winked at Melody, and then headed downstairs, calling, “Don’t start the tour without me.”

  Josh put the bag he’d carried upstairs on the counter and glanced at her. She read his silent message loud and clear. He hadn’t expected Rusty to be so…attentive. She smiled back and shrugged.

  Rusty lumbered in with the remaining groceries and dropped them on the counter. “You’ve come at a perfect time. Thanks to the city council, we’ve got a bunch of new gear to go with our new chief.”

  “I feel safer already.”

  Rusty made a face. “Yeah, that’s kind of the idea. It’s more for appearances than anything. Mayor Buchanan’s trying hard to convince some fancy bourbon maker to set up their main distillery here in Bluelick. They like our small-town land prices, and the credibility of a Kentucky address, but they”—he made air quotes—“expressed concern about our infrastructure and whether we had the services to help them protect their investment. Instead of pointing out our track record, Buchanan stumbles all over himself getting the council to approve a lot of unnecessary”—his eyes cut to Josh—“improvements. No offense, Chief.”

  Josh merely looked at his watch. “Don’t you and Cooper have a standing date with Pat and Vanna about now?”

  Rusty’s expression suggested he was getting the hint, and he didn’t much like the message. He’d always had a protective streak, and apparently he’d decided a woman rebounding from a long engagement needed protection from big bad Chief Bradley. In response to Josh’s not-so-subtle prompt to go join the other firefighter on shift, he just shook his head and laughed. “Not when we have a guest. C’mon, Mel.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the stairs. “We’ll check out the trucks first. I’d let you slide down our pole, but you’re in a skirt, so…”

  Yeah. It was painfully obvious she wouldn’t be sliding down anyone’s pole anytime soon. She followed him downstairs to the garage, and spent the next half hour oohing and ahhing over two shiny red trucks and a bunch of gear, while Rusty did his best impression of a junior-high dance chaperone, constantly angling to position himself between her and Josh.

  When he suggested they go upstairs and take a look around the living quarters, she spoke up. “Why don’t we save that for another time? It’s getting late, and I don’t want to keep you from your dinner.”

  “Good plan,” Josh said. “I’m off duty. I’ll walk you out.”

  “I’ll walk you out, too,” Rusty added, and shouldered his way between them.

  “I’ve got it covered,” Josh said at the same time she insisted, “I know my way.”

  “Say hey to your folks for me,” Rusty called, a bit pointedly, as Josh put a hand to the small of her back and steered her toward the door.

  “Will do,” she called back, and waved, until Josh unceremoniously shut the door, leaving them suddenly alone on the firehouse stoop.

  “Holy shit, what a nightmare. There’s only two guys on shift. I thought they’d be so absorbed with dinner and Wheel of Fortune they’d ignore us and we could use my office to—”

  “I don’t suppose…” Oh boy, was she really going to suggest this?

  “You don’t suppose?” His lips curved into a smile and he toyed with the top button of her blouse.

  She remembered the feel of those long, capable fingers between her legs, and licked her suddenly dry lips. Apparently yes, she was really going to suggest this. “I don’t suppose you’d like to take a tour of my workplace? It’s not far.”

  “How far?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of desperation that sent her system into overdrive.

  “Just across the square.” She gestured in the vague direction of the medical offices of Dr. Ellie Swann, Bluelick’s newest, and only, general practitioner.

  He stepped closer. “I’m guessing all the patients are gone this time of night?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, wondering exactly when her lungs had sprung a leak. “It should be completely deserted.”

  His slow grin weakened her knees. “Sounds like the perfect time for a fire inspection.”

  Chapter Three

  Josh stood behind Melody, waiting not-so-patiently while she dug her keys out of her purse. Both of them were slightly winded from their mad dash across the town square, and the sound of her quick breaths had his brain fast-forwarding to the moment he’d be inside her, thrusting for all he was worth, and she’d have her head thrown back, panting like that just for him. The image sent another powerful surge of lust through him, and he gave in to the compulsion to touch her. He ran his hand along her back, starting with the nape of her neck and trailing down, down, all the way down, until her keys clattered on the polished oak floors.

  “Uh-oh, butterfingers. Better pick those up.”

  Her laugh licked along his nerve endings like a playful tongue. “If you were any kind of gentleman, you’d pick them up for me.”

  He smacked her very tempting ass. “I’m no gentleman.”

  She gasped, then turned, met his eyes, and gave him a look that grabbed him by the balls and wouldn’t let go even after she turned away. “That’s handy, because tonight, I’m no lady.”

  Small-town grapevines obviously couldn’t be trusted. Prim, proper Miss Bluelick had a wild streak, judging by… Christ, she was limber. The thought blew everything else out of his head as he watched her bend forward from the waist, effectively pushing her mouthwatering curves into his groin, and reach for the fallen keys.

  “I can see that.” He sank his fingers into her hips. “You’re a very bad girl.”

  “Now you know my secret,” she teased as she straightened, torturing every inch of his cock with the slow slide of her backside against the front of his trousers. Her hair tumbled forward, baring the nape of her neck to his lips when she shoved the key into the lock. The mechanism released, clicking loudly in the otherwise silent hall. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “This.” He pushed her through the door and into the darkened waiting room so quickly they almost fell over. Her fingers fastened onto his shirt. His tangled in her hair. His mouth found her throat and he got to work there while the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume fogged what was left of his brain. She moaned impatiently and reached for his belt buckle.

  Hell no. It’d been three long months since his good-bye party in Cincinnati, which meant three long months since anyone had hefted his main hose except him. If she touched him right now, this office tour would be over in about two seconds.

  “Uh-uh. I can see I’m going to have to teach you patience.” He took an evasive step away and banged his shin on the corner of the magazine-strewn coffee table, sending a stack of Southern Living tumbling to the floor.

  “Oh, goodness, are you okay?”

  He grunted an affirmative, maneuvered them around the table, and took stock of the options in the waiting room. Two armchairs and a small
sofa. They could do better.

  “Come on.” He pulled her through the door separating the waiting room from the rest of the office and, walking backward, hauled her down the narrow hallway. “Exam room. Now.”

  “End of the hall, on the right,” she managed while trailing a line of searing kisses along his jaw. Then she sank her teeth into his earlobe. He staggered through the door on the right, his hands busy on her blouse buttons.

  “No, my right,” seeped into his consciousness around the time he lifted his gaze from the line of alabaster skin revealed by her unbuttoned blouse. They stood in an office, not an exam room. The big, solid wood desk offered a number of interesting possibilities, to his mind, but she hooked her fingers into the waist of his pants and tugged him across the hall, into, hallelujah, an exam room. He hit the wall switch and fluorescent light poured down on them.

  She blinked against the sudden brightness. Her pupils were huge and slow to react. He took advantage of her momentary blindness and swept off her shirt, then reached behind her and unsnapped her lace-trimmed white bra. When the bra hit the floor, he stepped back to take in the view, which was staggering enough it took him a moment to realize she stood there, still as stone, staring at him like…he didn’t know…like she needed reassurance? Odd, seeing as she came on to him.

  He raked his gaze down her body, and her nipples tightened for him. Beckoned to him. And even though he wasn’t the kind of man who showered a woman with flowery words, he heard himself say, “Jesus, you’re sexy. So fucking hot, it ought to be a crime.”

  The smile she unleashed on him brightened the exam room better than a thousand fluorescent bulbs, and told him he’d guessed right. For some unfathomable reason, despite all the bravado, she genuinely lacked confidence in her allure.

  “You think so?”

  The question made him determined to convince her. “You’re beautiful. I’m sure you’ve heard that your whole life, because it’s true, but I’m not talking about your beauty. I’m talking about how you walk around town with your debutante smile, your nice manners, and your Southern breeding, and make sure nobody sees past the Miss Bluelick facade. But I do. I see past the act. Underneath the smooth, cool beauty there’s a flesh-and-blood woman who likes to get dirty. That woman is real, even though you try to keep her hidden away. You know she’s there, and now I know she’s there. And yeah, she’s sexy as hell.”