Page 31 of Rekindle My Heart

“Why do you think all the police officers hang out there? It’s not only for the atmosphere.” He bit into his own burger. Melted cheese and BBQ sauce oozed from the edges.

“I forgot the napkins.” Before Ryan could react, a slim finger wiped the cheese from his chin and slipped it between her lips.

Ugh. He wanted to suck that digit into his mouth. He tracked the movement of her tongue as it slid out and licked her lips. Eyes closed. She fully enjoyed the taste. And he fully enjoyed watching her. Ryan needed a bigger plate.

Dazed eyes opened—drunk on the riot of flavors before she caught him watching her. “What?”

He blinked as if coming out of a stupor. “You really love these burgers.”

She swallowed hard and set the burger on her plate as if it had just hit her what she did. In true Erica fashion, she didn’t run from the room or spout excuses. Oh, her cheeks were as red as a stop sign, but she didn’t run. “Anyway. I pulled up the reports our department sent to the MFIRS. We have copies of them on file in our system.”

As a police officer, Ryan was familiar with the state fire incident reporting system, but rarely had a need to access anything from it.

They spent the next thirty minutes eating and running through the fire reports. Ryan set up his diagnostic and didn’t mention the fact she had intentionally eaten cheese from his face.

Inwardly, Erica spent the last thirty minutes berating herself for touching Ryan’s face. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it’s like the last thirteen years had just disappeared and they were back on her parent’s couch, eating McDonald’s and playing Call of Duty.

Work. He was here for work, not to throw her into a time warp and have her eat sauce and cheese off his face.

Oh God, she’d wanted to actually lick it off him with her tongue. Thankfully, she hadn’t lost all control of herself. That would have screwed their whole working relationship. And that was the only relationship they had. It had to be the only one.

She shoved a fry in her mouth and drained the last of her beer. “I’m switching to Coke if we plan on working for the evening. Do you want one?”

“Sure.”

She grabbed his plate and hightailed it into the kitchen, Karma on her heels, waiting for his treat.

“I know you love fries.” Scooping the last couple from the plate, she fed them to him. “Good boy.”

She placed the plates in the sink and reached in the fridge for the sodas.

Definitely needed to switch to pop. If she had one more beer, she’d probably do way more than just take food off of him with her finger.

Opening the freezer door, she stuck her head in. “Ahh.” A groan slipped out. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake loose the image of his face when she stuck her finger in her mouth. No doubt the man was turned on. Shit, she herself clenched her thighs a little tighter.

“Are you keeping your pop in the freezer now?”

“What?” Ouch! Her head bounced off the top of the fridge as she jumped back. The sneaky bastard. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Nope, um, I’m getting ice.”

“I don’t need ice. Thanks.” He reached out a hand for the beverage can.

Can? Right. She looked at the metal cylinder in her hand. All she had to do was extend her arm and hand it to him. Not going to happen. Last time they touched, the jolt of lust slapped her silly. Not wanting to chance the same reaction, she set the can on the counter. Whirling around, she grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Just getting a glass, that’s all. No, I’m not evading those charged hands.

By the dimple that popped out in his cheek, she didn’t think he bought her subtle attempt to avoid his touch. Was it that obvious she really, really liked his touch?

Hell, it had been torture when he rested his hand on the small of her back this morning. Even through the fabric of her shirt, heat licked up her spine.

His computer pinged in the other room, and he went to check it.

Closing her eyes, she dropped her head. “Get it together, Randall.”

She opened her eyes. “Shit.” Her nipples had come out to play. She could blame it on the cold air from the freezer, but both of them would know it was his damn testosterone. The man had truckloads of it, and she wished she was immune, but God didn’t like her that much.

Picking up her AFD sweatshirt, she slipped it on and grabbed her pop can. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling and a wave of guilt layered over her heated body. She whispered, “Sorry, Sarah.”

She pushed down the residual lust, but a kernel of what-if would never go away.

Shaking off her thoughts, she wiped her expression clean and strolled back into the living room to face her personal hell.