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I forget why I was incensed. Those flames that licked under my skin are now a full-on, out-of-control, raging fire.

My breath snags. I catch his wrist with my hands, holding him to me. Or maybe I’m trying to hold myself steady. He hasn’t touched me like this in—since—oh, God.

He drops his lips to my ear. His pitch is wholly darker and rougher than it was when he sat behind his desk. “I’d happily eat a boiled hot dog for you.”

I don’t know what the hell is happening right now. My body is going haywire. Between my legs, there’s an ache.

I think my panties might be wet.

Holy hell…

“Holt,” his name comes out like a moan. I wince.

He inhales. I think he’s smelling me.

He growls a low and rumbly thing in his chest. It’s as threatening as it is delicious.

Yep. My panties are one thousand percent wet.

“Ask me, Faye.”

What? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My brain is short circuiting. Thoughts fizzling.

“Ask me to man the grill.”

“Oh.” Where are my words? My tongue isn’t working.

“Ask me,” he dares darkly.

“Will you?” I’m so breathless, the words come out choppy. Heat flushes under my skin and I just know I’m scarlet red in the face.

“I’ll man the grill, Faye.” His body shudders with a laugh even as his voice is thick and rough with a need I am so not ready to face.

When I attempt to shove his hand from where it palms my belly, he twists his fingers into the silk of my blouse, trapping me in the cage of him.

“Holt…”

Oh, Lord, what’s happening?

“Faye.” He dips his head into the nook between my neck and shoulder. Fireflies erupt into a tizzy inside me. At my belly, his hand knots tighter into the silk of my shirt, and then his other clamps tightly on my hip. His hand is so big, his fingertips tease over my hipbone and lower…

His heat stings me beneath the fabric of my skirt. I’m momentarily lost to the sensation of feeling like a woman again. A woman desired by a man.

Desire swims in my mind, making me dizzy and thoughtless. I can’t help myself as I push back into him—needing to feel him. He’s hard. Everywhere.

I gasp. He growls.

His lips are hot on the side of my neck, and I do moan this time.

The bells on the door jingle and we freeze. Holt’s hand is still twisted in my shirt, but when I shove it away with a totally freaked out, “Oh God, no,” he releases me.

I don’t dare look back at him as I scurry from his office. My mind is firing on all cylinders. Or maybe it’s not firing at all. Thoughts are coming at me fast, but I’m not processing a single one.

I’m totally freaking out.

Mrs. Kepler smiles at me, because she has no idea I’ve just been canoodling with my ex-lover slash brother-in-law.