Wild Heat (Hot Shots: Men of Fire #1)(37)
Author: Bella Andre

“No,” she said, that determined glint in her eyes, “I need to focus on helping you.” Her eyelashes fluttered down. “I can never repay you for saving my life, Logan. Please, let me help you. It’s the very least I can do.”

He was helpless against her soft plea, against the warmth of her touch. She slowly ran her fingers over his shoulder blades, down his spine to his lower back, making contact with cuts and bruises and a couple of pebbles embedded in his skin.

He bit back a groan of pain. He didn’t want her to see his wounds and feel at all responsible for what had happened.

“You’re probably still in shock. Go lie down on the couch,” he instructed in a rough voice. “I’ll be right back.”

“I need to help you,” she insisted, ignoring his command as her hands found the edge of his T-shirt.

She didn’t wait for him to agree as she walked around his body. She sucked in a breath when she saw the damage his back and legs had sustained, but she didn’t faint.

“Hold still.”

He clenched his teeth as she pulled the sweat- and bloodstained CSI Tahoe shirt away from his battered skin.

“I hope this wasn’t David’s favorite shirt.”

Any other woman would have been babying him, crying over his wounds, maybe even getting sick at the sight of so much blood. But not her. Instead, she was trying to make him smile, just as he had with her. She inherently understood he needed to focus on something else.

It felt like white-hot flames were dancing across his shoulders. “His wife probably staged the explosion to get rid of the damn thing,” he said through clenched teeth.

Maya’s hand stilled on his back. “You don’t deserve this, Logan. Not any of it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s just a truck,” he said, even though he knew she was talking about much more than that. She was apologizing for doing her job and pulling him off duty. She was apologizing for coming into his home to take back samples for the lab.

“I’m sorry about your truck too,” she said in a wry tone as she lightly traced the outline of another wound with the tip of her finger. “You’re a mess. A complete mess.”

She’d barely walked away from an exploding truck. And she was worried about him.

“I’ll heal.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “The only thing that matters is finding out who did this. And staying alive.”

Her eyes met his, full of resolve. “Hotshots always were some of the toughest people I’d ever met.” She searched his kitchen cupboards for a dish towel. “You’d better take your pants off too.”

He twitched at her words, ready for action despite everything. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She pulled a blue-and-white-striped towel out of a drawer and turned on the tap, waiting several seconds for the water to grow warm. After washing her hands, she picked up a bar of soap and moved behind him again.

“This is probably going to hurt.”

He braced himself. “Go for it.”

Slowly, gently, she brushed away dirt and pine needles with the pads of her fingers down the length of his back. The soap and water stung like a mother, but her touch was the perfect distraction, far better than any drugs would have been.

He could feel her breath on his spine, the heat of her body warming his back. He wanted to turn around and heal himself with her lips, her curves, her responsive moans of pleasure.

And then her hands stilled against his skin. “You could have died trying to save me.” She laid her cheek against his back. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have gotten out as soon as you said the word.”

“No,” he said, undone by her touch.

He didn’t give a crap about control anymore, not when he’d almost lost her. He turned and threaded his bloodstained hands into her hair.

“Don’t you dare blame yourself. Not for a goddamned thing.”

All he wanted was to forget the image of her sitting in a ticking time bomb and the utter helplessness of watching smoke rise from the engine. He had to taste her, had to confirm that she was flesh and blood and not just a figment of his desperate imagination.

“I lost you once,” he said as he lowered his mouth to cover hers. “I won’t lose you again.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LOGAN’S WORDS muddled together inside Maya’s head. She tucked them away for a different time and place, when she could breathe normally, when she could think straight. Right now, all she knew was that she couldn’t stop rubbing her hands over his abs, over his pecs, over every square inch of his glorious broad, tanned chest. And that she’d die if she didn’t kiss him that very second.

She’d never been so close to death before. His warmth, his heartbeat thudding against hers, the desire she read in his eyes—they all meant life to her. Keeping her distance from Logan and staying safe in her little world suddenly meant nothing. Not when one malicious act had almost robbed her of her chance to feel joy, to feel anything at all. She wanted to sample life’s sweetness and allow herself a taste of the pleasure she’d refused for so long.

Their mouths came together and it was a blur of heat and passion. No one was in charge. Instead, they were both taking something they desperately needed, something they could only find in each other’s arms.

He backed her to the kitchen island and she opened her legs to take him in closer. He was so big, so strong, so wonderfully hot as his hips shifted into place between her thighs. Ever since she’d seen him again on top of the mountain, barely twenty-four hours earlier—no, ever since she’d kissed him six months ago—she hadn’t stopped wanting him.

The floodgates flew open as she melted in his arms.

She was discovering him all over again, just as he was discovering her. Little things like his scent and the way his stubble rubbed against her cheek sent dangerous emotions slithering in between her ribs, aiming straight for her heart.

His hands were gentle as they cupped her face and she instinctively tilted her face up as his mouth moved from her lips to the concave place between her chin and shoulder bones. Her limbs felt heavy, drugged with his kisses. Her skin buzzed and her ni**les were stiff and tight behind her bra as he nipped at her jaw.

Through it all, she worked to hold herself apart from him and deflect the strong emotions threatening to overtake her, the voice in her head that was whispering something about Logan being her soul mate.

No, that was crazy. He couldn’t be.

But when he flicked his tongue behind her ear, then pulled at her earlobe with his teeth, her body made the decision for her.

She knew the instant he felt her capitulation, by the tender way he caressed her shoulders and back muscles with deep, soothing motions. And then his fingers moved to her waistband and he pulled at her borrowed cotton T-shirt, dirty from her face-plant into the gravel. She shifted her hips slightly to give him better access, to help him strip her down.