Read Fueling Her Fire for Free Online

apartment in downtown Chicago, but I didn’t feel like
spending Christmas there, okay? Please, I’m freezing. Can you just stack the
wood?” She didn’t care if she sounded short. She nodded her head toward his
truck, not willing to move her arms, which were now wrapped firmly around her
body. Hugging herself, she tried to bolster her strength against the onslaught
of feelings Dylan had brought with him to her doorstep. Despite the warmth at
her back from the fire, her teeth started to chatter.
    “Oh.” Dylan’s eyes swept down to her chest again and she
shifted her arms, wrapping her cardigan tighter.
    His voice was soft when he said, “Oh yeah, sorry. You’re
freezing.” He reached out almost unconsciously to touch the bare skin of her
arm, below the cuff of the sweater. She jerked backward before he could touch
her.
    “Let me know when you’re done. Okay?” Her tone was sharper
than she’d intended and he stepped backward, a hurt look on his face. Or maybe
she imagined it. She didn’t care—she just wanted to get safely back inside with
him shut outside. After just having dealt with the betrayal of William, she
felt ambushed when the man who’d made her life hell in high school showed up at
her door.
    With the door safely shut, she dropped down onto the couch
in shock. She wanted to pull him into the cabin and screw him until she’d had
her fill and just as much she wanted to kick him in the balls and scream
hateful things at him. Good god.
    I will not think about him. I will not think about him… but
the thump, thump of the wood being piled onto the porch was too
distracting. All she could think about was the man stacking it. Dylan Johnson,
after all these years, right out on her front porch. Her heart was fluttering
so much so that she decided she really needed a glass of wine to calm her
nerves. A big glass of wine.
    Returning with a large glass of zinfandel, she sat back on
the couch, realizing she could see out the window to where Dylan was working.
She watched him, thinking about the man he’d turned into. He was bundled up,
but was wearing jeans and his muscular thighs were obvious underneath the worn
denim. He was strong, throwing armfuls of wood around with ease. His muscles
were the muscles of hard work, not appointments with a trainer. There was
something so utterly sexy about that.
    And there was skill in his work style. She found it
fascinating to watch. He was like a machine, powerful and efficient in his
movements. His big hands must be strong and calloused, not soft and unmarked
like William’s, and she found herself wondering how they’d feel on her skin.
    Would his rough palms scrape over the sensitive skin of her
nipples with an adrenaline-inducing bite or stimulate them with easy, skilled
strokes, stoking her lust like he would a fire? How would his hard-working
fingers feel if he pushed them inside her pussy? How skillful was he in bed after
all these years? Thinking back to her fantasy in the car, she wondered if he
could easily give her the orgasms she’d been missing. She felt a tingling
growing between her legs.
    Dylan stopped working to take his hat off—he must have
worked up a sweat, even in that cold—and looked right at her. Quickly she
ducked her head but knew it was no use—he’d caught her staring at him. Her
cheeks flushed hotly, as if he could read on her face exactly the explicit
thoughts she’d been thinking about him.
    She stood up, determined to finish decorating the Christmas
tree, even if it was only to take her mind off him. Carefully unwrapping the
remaining glass ornaments, she hung them all until the tree sparkled in
Christmas finery. Smiling up at it, she thought it looked just like she’d
always remembered it looking, year after year, though maybe a little crooked
this time.
    Just one final thing—the showpiece of the tree every
Christmas—the glittering glass star for the top. She unwrapped it reverently,
wishing again that her mom was