Fuel the Fire (Southern Heat Book 8) Read online

  Except all that made it hard to find her keys at the best of times. Right now, at the end of a very long day, the task was almost impossible. She just counted herself lucky that she’d managed to dodge the bag of groceries as she huffed around to the side of the car to open the door.

  Or maybe not. Her foot caught on something and Rachel stumbled. Her hand holding her bag open flew out to stop her fall, but she grabbed at nothing but air. The other hand was still inside the bag in question and there was no way she was going to be able to get it in front of her in time before she hit the ground. Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced for impact, but instead of the hard ground she expected to scrape across her skin, her failing hand instead touched something soft, instinctively latching around whatever it was and grabbing on firmly. She heard a grunt of surprise followed by a low groan. What the hell?

  Her feet back under her, Rachel looked up, only to lock her eyes with her favorite client, Jeremy Halstead. Her cheeks burned when she realized the soft substance she’d gripped onto was his jacket, and she disentangled herself so fast she nearly fell again.

  His hand shot out to grab her arm, preventing her for hitting the pavement for a second time in under a minute. When her feet finally got solidly planted on the ground, she let go and stepped back, only for her eyes to widen further when she caught her first good look at Jeremy’s face. His jaw was set, forehead tense. He looked almost as if . . . no, he wasn’t angry. He was in pain. Oh, my God! She’d fallen on a patient!

  Her hands flew up again, this time as the practiced touch of her job. She shoved his jacket off over his shoulder, exposing his arm in the sling and began gently probing his shoulder, looking for any new damage. God, she was such an idiot. She was so engrossed in her study that she failed to notice Jeremy moving, until his free hand came down over hers. His fingers wrapped around her hand, cupping it against his chest. She expected him to move away from her touch but instead he seemed to almost lean into it.

  His hand was rough and calloused, but his touch was somehow still soft, the warmth of his skin heating hers. Sparks went off in her belly the longer he held her hand, with neither of them seemingly wanting to move for several seconds. It wasn’t until he hunched his shoulder upward and a small grimace crossed his face that she remembered what she’d been doing. Just how many times was she going to make an idiot of herself in one afternoon?

  She’d been attracted to Jeremy from the moment he’d walked through the doors of the treatment room. That wasn’t a surprise. She was willing to bet most of the female population of Monroe felt the same way, probably a few of the guys, too. He was good-looking without being pretty, rugged without being unkempt; a working man. His dark blond hair was longer than most men’s, curling ever so slightly at the nape of his neck. It softened his otherwise large frame, and when coupled with that smile, wow. The curls, along with the dimples, would charm anyone within fifty feet. The only problem was, she couldn’t act on any of it. The man, however good-looking he was, was her patient, and therefore off limits. Something she had to remind herself of on a daily basis. Even that was getting more difficult lately. The more she saw him, the greater the attraction grew. Shouldn’t that work the opposite way—getting used to seeing him or something? When it came to Jeremy Halstead, it seemed her heart didn’t give a shit about logic. So why’d he have to be so damn charming at the same time? If he’d been an asshole, she could have at least reminded herself occasionally that he was just a pretty face. Instead, he was a genuine good guy. He already saved lives for a living. Did he have to be so damn perfect on top?

  The man in question cleared his throat, making Rachel jump. Damn. How long had she been standing there, her hand resting against his shirt? She looked back up at his face, forcing her embarrassment away. She’d just run straight into the guy, hit him where it hurt—literally. She narrowed her eyes, assessing him. She couldn’t feel any new damage, and he hadn’t winced or made any other indications of pain when she’d probed the injury site. But the edges of his eyes were still tight, his cheeks just that little bit pale. She looked past him over his shoulder and spotted a giant pickup truck. Her embarrassment turned to surprise. What the hell? Had Jeremy really driven that monster all the way to the grocery store with only one hand? She knew from his file that he lived out of town, and so it wasn’t like all he’d done was a quick spin around the corner, and he wasn’t exactly driving a hatchback, either. She returned her gaze to his face, which now at least had the good grace to look a little guilty.

  He stepped back, his good hand held up in submission. “I know, I know,” he said. “But everyone I know well enough to bug for the millionth ride somewhere are on shift today, and a man’s gotta eat.”

  “You could have asked me.” The words were out before she could stop them. What the hell had possessed her to say that? She was pretty sure Jeremy had no idea how attractive she found him. Thankfully, she’d managed to cover it pretty well. Until right then.

  That time, it was Jeremy’s turn to look surprised. “But . . . what . . . I figured that wouldn’t be appropriate,” he said. “Knowing how highly you value the doctor slash patient relationship.”

  Well, if she was going to jump, she may as well make it a good one. “I’m not your doctor. I’m a physiotherapist.”

  Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up at her statement, seconds before the corner of his mouth tipped up in a crooked smile. “Well then, Rachel the physiotherapist, could you possibly drive me home? I seem to have further injured my shoulder in some kind of nasty accident.” For a second, she worried that she really had hurt him further, until she saw the twinkle in his eyes. Here went nothing. The one good part about being one of the only physiotherapists without a private practice in town? She’d probably just get her wrist slapped by her boss. Spending time with the wickedly handsome man before her would be worth it. She reached into his pants pocket, grinning when her hand came into contact with his keys and praying her face didn’t look as hot as it felt when her fingers brushed up against something else . . . sizeable. She pulled her hand out and dangled the keys in front of his face, watching Jeremy’s half smile grow larger. “It would be the least I can do.”

  Jeremy turned, sweeping up her last bag of groceries off the ground and throwing it in the back of his truck. Further injured . . . yeah, right. She grinned at the sight of him transferring her entire load of shopping into the truck, her mouth dropping open at what he mumbled under his breath. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  3

  Rachel

  Rachel slid behind the wheel of Jeremy’s truck. Geez, how long were his legs? She’d been admiring them from afar for months, but she still hadn’t anticipated quiet how much she’d have to adjust the seat in his truck before she felt comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you could get with a lady boner for the hot-as-hell guy sitting next to her. He clearly wasn’t grievously injured by her misstep with the—something she was already nicknaming “the key incident”—as he’d managed to haul every single one of her shopping bags into the back of his truck, even the one containing the several cartons of cans of soda . . . her guilty pleasure. She kept only a water bottle on hand at work, trying to set a good example and all that, but at the end of crazy days, water wasn’t going to cut it. She tried not to drink more than maybe a glass of wine, except for the rare occasions there was no way she’d be called into work for an emergency, and so sugary goodness it was.

  Still, despite probably being completely fine, Jeremy seemed happy to let her drive him home. Not that she should really object. Even without further injury, he shouldn’t be driving himself around town with one hand. Besides, how the hell did he manage to change gears? She glanced at the column shift and then shot him a look. Yeah, technically it was on the steering column, but he was either letting go of the wheel entirely to change gears, or using his bum arm.

  “What?” Jeremy asked, his face the picture of innocence.

  “Nothing,” Rachel muttered in reply. She had the fee
ling Jeremy knew exactly what she was thinking by the path her gaze had taken, and even if he didn’t, there’s no way he was going to stop simply because she told him to. He’d been pushing to go harder right from the beginning of his therapy, culminating in asking her earlier that day to sign his fit for work papers weeks earlier than she would be ready to. Though, even there she couldn’t fault him. Rachel wasn’t sure she’d ever had a patient who worked so hard. Jeremy got plenty frustrated, particularly in the early days, but he’d never let it slow him down or impede his progress, even a little bit, and his results showed it.

  She frowned, shifting the truck into first and moving out into traffic. She probably could have signed the waiver today and he’d be perfectly fine, at least for a desk job. A couple more weeks with the same brutal regime he’d insisted on for himself and he’d likely be back to full health and ready to go, anyway. So why was she hesitating? Rachel rolled her eyes skyward as she turned the corner. It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact she wouldn’t see his smiling face every day. She wasn’t that far gone . . . she hoped. Still, maybe coming to the end of their professional relationship would be worth it if it meant she could finally accept his offer to take her out for coffee. She sighed. Though apparently she’d blown right though that anyway, driving him back to his place in his own truck, leaving her much smaller car sitting in the store’s parking lot. It had made sense to take his. Her car was small enough that she was barely fitting the groceries and her in, which is what caused the whole situation in the first place.

  She tried imagining Jeremy smushed in the front passenger seat, his long legs bunched up with the seat pushed forward to make room for the bags she hadn’t been able to fit in the trunk. A giggle escaped her lips at the thought. Yeah, his truck was a much better idea. There was actually room to move. She glanced over her shoulder at the next turn, spotting just how much room was left in the truck bed, even with her bags piled up. Her smile dropped away as heat filled her cheeks again. Yep, there was room to fit an entire person back there still. Two if they were happy to lie close together, and when it came to Jeremy, that wouldn’t be a problem.

  She cleared her throat, willing her blush to die down. “So,” she said. Her voice sounded rough—from embarrassment or something else entirely? Sitting next to the hottest guy she knew, driving his truck back to his place, the house where you couldn’t see a single other neighbor. She was so screwed. “So,” she said again, “did you have any plans for dinner?”

  Jeremy’s eyes shuttered, and Rachel swore she saw his muscles tense ever so slightly. “I’m sure we can find something for the main course in all those bags back there. Of course, then it’ll be time for my dessert.”

  She bit back a groan at his words. He didn’t mean . . . did, he? No, that was impossible. But there was no denying the spark in his eyes, or the way his body had turned toward her at the words. She risked a glance downward. Yep . . . she hadn’t been mistaken with the earlier brush of her fingers. The guy was packing, and by the looks of the shape of his jeans, he had everything to be proud of. Her mouth went dry and she swallowed, but before she could speak again, Jeremy lifted up his hand and pointed at a turn just ahead. “That’s me right here. It can be tricky to find when you’re not used to it.”

  She turned the truck into the driveway and they spent the next several minutes in silence as she steered the vehicle up a winding path. She’d been right; by the time she parked the pickup in front of Jeremy’s house, the only thing you could see were trees. Even any noise from the road was gone. The only sounds echoing in her ears were bird calls. It was incredibly peaceful. She smiled. This was why she’d moved from a big city to small town USA, and standing there in Jeremy’s yard, she finally felt at home. She turned, taking in the view. There was so much green! Some color here or there was peppered in by small flowers likely self-sowing over his lawn. Most people would probably call them weeds, but she thought they were beautiful. Rachel had never been much of a gardener; if it looked good, it stayed. That was just about the extent of her botanical knowledge.

  Tearing her gaze away from the peaceful vista in front of her, she was surprised all over again to discover that while she’d been lost in admiring nature, Jeremy had hauled all but two of her grocery bags out of the truck. It made sense, she supposed. If she left the perishables sitting out in the truck, even for as long as it took her to book an Uber to come pick her up and drive her back to town, they’d probably be ruined. Besides, he had promised her dinner, even if it was cooked with her own groceries.

  Rachel grinned as she climbed up into the truck’s bed. The last two bags were wedged right up against the back window, and she couldn’t reach them from the ground. Not all of them could be a six-foot-plus firefighter with an arm span longer than her height, after all. She was exaggerating, just a little, but the guy was tall. She wasn’t exactly short, but she felt petite next to Jeremy. What shocked her was that she liked it.

  Rachel had spent most of her career working with pro sports people just as much as those who needed rehabilitation after an accident or illness. Fit, tanned bodies weren’t exactly a new thing in her line of work. So why was she reacting so strongly to Jeremy?

  She didn’t have time to work out an answer before she felt a gentle tug on the foot of her leggings. She usually dressed casually for work, often in workout gear, as more often than not it involved getting physical with her clients. At the thought, Rachel closed her eyes. Thank God Jeremy wasn’t a mind reader. How many times was she going to make a complete fool of herself? She didn’t usually blurt out sexually suggestive things at the drop of a hat. The situation—and the guy—were clearly getting to her.

  “Leave that,” he said. “I’ll grab it.” By the time she’d turned around in the bed of the truck, Jeremy had grabbed the bag and trailed back into the house. By the time she’d picked up the last and shuffled to the edge of the tailgate, he was back. Her legs hung over the edge, Rachel preparing to drop down to the ground, when he grabbed the bag out of her hands. “Anything breakable in there?” He asked. She shook her head. “Good.” Jeremy dropped the bag on the ground. “There’s something else I’d much rather haul inside.”

  His arm snaked around her waist, getting ready to steady her while he lowered her down. Even though he’d clearly managed hauling an entire grocery shop inside one-handed, she wasn’t going to let him take her entire weight on one arm.

  Her hands moved to his shoulders, attempting to brace herself, but all it did was bring their faces so close their noses were almost touching. Her gaze locked to his. Just inches away, it was impossible to look anywhere else, but the fire burning deep in his eyes took her breath away. Her hands tightened their grip and even through his shirt she could feel his biceps tensing, the muscles in his shoulders moving and gliding under his skin as he stepped impossibly closer. And then suddenly, all the space between them disappeared in an instant as Jeremy’s lips touched hers.

  If she’d made the first move, the kiss would have been cautious, tentative, as their lips touched for the first time. Jeremy, apparently, was having none of that. His mouth pressed down to hers, nipping and sucking at her like he was a starving man. His tongue pressed forward, insisting on entrance to her mouth. She complied. It swept into her mouth, engulfing her with his masculine taste and obliterating anything other than him. His arm around her waist tightened further, pulling her flush against his hard body as he made love to her mouth. There was no other word for it. The man had taken exactly three seconds to take her over, to consume her entirely. Waves of lust crashed over her, choirs of angels, the whole bit, and all he’d done was kiss her. What the hell would sex with him be like?

  She gasped as the idea entered her mind and she pulled away slightly. Jeremy was clearly having none of it. “We’re good?” he mumbled, following her down to the truck’s bed. A snort escaped her as she realized the name. Whoever decided that was what it was called had clearly been in her exact situation.

  His finger
s traced lightly over her bare arms, touching her constantly even though his lips had fallen away for the moment. His touch left goose bumps in its wake. They were lying on their sides, Jeremy’s injured shoulder facing up, their bodies touching along the entire length. Any mystery she’d still had over the size of his cock was obliterated now, his erection pressing firmly against her thigh through his jeans. This close, there was no mistake. Jeremy was hung. Lucky her. “Rachel? You okay?”

  She looked up at his face and frowned. The lust burning in his eyes had given way to concern. There was no way she was letting that happen. She leaned forward, brushing her lips over his before whispering, so close he would be able to feel the movement of her mouth against his as she spoke. “I’m fine. More than fine. Please, continue.” Where the wanton sex kitten side of her personality had come from, she had no idea, but Jeremy clearly liked it. The burn in his eyes was back and his arm under her body hitched up around her hips as he rolled, taking her with him until he was lying on his back with her straddling his delectable body. Rachel froze above him. It was crazy. Just that morning she’d been trying to talk herself out of her attraction to Jeremy—and failing—for about the millionth time. Now here she was at second base in the back of his pickup truck. Could she get any more cliché?

  The question flew from her mind as Jeremy’s hand found its way under the hem of her shirt, caressing her bare skin. Shivers ran through her and she moved almost instinctively, grinding herself against his confined but rock-hard cock. Jeremy groaned and his fingers dug into her skin at the movement. The small bite of pain mixed in with the pleasure only made her do it again. He wore a button-down shirt, easier to get on and off when you couldn’t lift one arm. Right now, it was extremely useful. She traced her fingers along the edge of the buttons, enjoying the look on Jeremy’s face as he realized what she was doing. Ever so slowly, she slipped one button out, then two, all the while rocking slowly above him.