Gracie Terrence has lived next door to firefighter Steve Sheldon for two years. She's lusted after his hot body since day one, but Steve is a taken man. Gracie is no home wrecker and keeps her fantasies locked safely behind closed doors. Besides, all she wants is one hot night with him.

After getting dumped by his fiancée, Steve decides it's time to have a little fun with Gracie. She makes his blood heat and his cock hard.

But when one night turns to two, and emotions complicate their simple affair, can they survive the inferno of their growing love?

"I think you have some guests," she said, keeping her voice from rising even though inside she was panicking. "And I have work to do." If he didn't leave soon, she couldn't be responsible for anything she might do. She was human after all.

She squeezed her thighs together and prayed he'd leave soon. And as soon as he was out the door she'd grab her vibrator and really take care of herself. Hard and deep. Just like he'd fuck her.

Steve cleared his throat and she ripped her eyes away from his crotch. God, he'd caught her looking. Not just looking, staring. And already starting the fantasy that would get her through the next few hours. Her cheeks flamed, but she met his gaze. "Apologize then, and be done with it."

He took a step toward her, until she could smell the beer on his breath, the spicy cologne he wore, the musky scent of his skin. "I'm sorry for grabbing your ass and being rude in front of the guys. That was uncalled for." His baby blues darkened to something menacing. Something thrilling. "I apologize for grabbing your ass now, but it's something I've got to do."

Before his words registered, she was in his arms, his big warm hands cupping her butt, his rock-hard chest against her breasts, the solid length of his cock pressed into her abdomen. And then his mouth was on hers; fulfilling half of every fantasy she'd ever had of him.

Oh God. Yes! His lips were firm, commanding. His tongue tasted of beer and lust. Primal. He took possession and thrust into her mouth again and again. More! she wanted to scream but she was too busy trying to breathe, trying to maintain some sense of sanity.

He growled into her mouth and turned with her, pressing her against the counter as he thrust his hips against her.

Her nipples ached and her pussy throbbed. She'd never come from a kiss before, but she was so damned close. So close...

"No," she groaned as she ripped her mouth away from his, which nearly killed her. "No."

He panted against her cheek but didn't release her. His hands flexed on her ass and she whimpered. "Steve. No."

"Yes."

"Erin." Saying that woman's name was like ripping her guts out. If it weren't for Erin...

After a few breath-stopping moments he let go of her, and thank God for the counter behind her or her traitorous week knees would have given way. And then the man had the audacity to laugh. Throw his head back, grab his gut and laugh.

"You're an asshole," she growled, still afraid to move in case her legs had actually turned to the jelly they felt like.

"You want me to call her up?" he asked when his fit slowed. "Tell her to come on over? Do you only get off through voyeurism?"

"Fuck you."

"That's more like it." He reached for her but she ducked under his arm and scooted around the island in the center of the kitchen.

"Don't."

"If you only meant that, Gracie dear, I'd be out the door before you could blink. But I know what you want."

His eyes glittered dangerously and she shivered. The bastard was right. He did know what she wanted.