Switch Me On. Jule McBride

he was taking advantage; she knew what she was doing. He said, “And now for your hair ornaments.”

      That prompted another gale of giggles, since the ornaments were pencils. Having overheated while dancing, she’d taken them from the bar and used them to bind up the wild strawberry strands. As disheveled hair cascaded over her shoulders, he simply dropped the pencils, letting them clatter on the kitchen floor.

      “I’m too short,” she announced, a hank of hair falling across her cheek. Since she looked so concerned, he kissed away the stray hair, then kissed her eyes shut. Unclasping the front hook of the bra, he closed a thumb and finger on a nipple, caressing, rolling, pinching until he stifled her sigh by covering her lips with his. Plunging his tongue, he let the kiss get good and wet.

      When he pulled away, she murmured against his mouth. “Your back probably hurts from all the bending you have to do because I’m so short.”

      “It’s very painful,” he whispered.

      “Oh,” she returned contritely. That turned into oh, oh, oh, when he rustled a hand under her skirt and inside the tights. Twining long fingers in her curls then cupping her, he groaned. She was really wet. Slicking a finger, he glided it over her clit and said, “If we were lying down, I wouldn’t have to keep bending over just to kiss you.”

      “Because I’m so short...”

      He could barely talk. “Right.”

      Another shudder. “I see...”

      He pushed a thick finger inside her, watched her eyes glaze, then he settled his mouth over an aroused nipple. Her little moan sent something as hot as molten lead to his groin. Dammit, every time he thought he had a handle on this woman from the backwater, he lost his grip again. She’d gone from boring hygienist to hardened party girl, to cutie-pie-empath, and now the only thing he felt was raw desire. Her every incarnation was killing him. He could not predict TMA at all. He wasn’t even sure he was going to get her into bed tonight, in which case there would be no morning after, and that had to be a first.

      “It’s just a promise,” she whispered.

      “What?”

      “It’s never as good as the kisses.”

      Yeah, right. To prove otherwise, he thrust another finger inside. In and out until she whimpered. “It’s always better than the kisses.”

      “You’re wrong about that, Mr. Electricity.”

      “Want to bet?” Abruptly, he retrieved his hand from where it was sandwiched between her creamy skin and the body-hugging tights. He started dragging her behind him, into the hallway. “I’m feeling a strong need to show you something.”

      “What?”

      “My bedroom.”

      She giggled again. At least he’d put sheets on the bed. Not that it would have mattered at this point. Her giggle cut off abruptly when he simply pointed at the mattress. Her eyes widened, but she plopped obediently on the edge, her blouse pushed off her shoulders, the bra open in front, her breasts swaying as she scooted backward, the short skirt hiking as she moved. He considered a moment, deciding what he wanted to do first. Then he followed her, lying on top, covering her body with his. He went for slow, wet languid kisses on her breasts. He tongued the tips, lightly biting the nipples, while he kicked off her high heels and dealt with her skirt and tights. Before he got to her panties, she was undressing him, too.

      “Say something with your porno voice,” he requested.

      “Kisses are just promises,” she whispered back, slurring a little. “The rest is never as good. Never.”

      That bothered him more than it should have. But soon, she’d be teetering on the brink of orgasm, of course, and he’d keep her in agony until she retracted that statement. Yes, there were numerous things he felt compelled to do with her before getting out the condoms. Those he had unpacked. He couldn’t wait to be inside her, when everything would be reduced to wild heat and soft sensation.

      “What are you waiting for?” she whispered.

      “I’m deciding what to do to you first,” he admitted, his voice husky. Before his mouth found hers again, he said, “Tonight, we’re going to make sure kisses take a backseat to our main events.”

      * * *

      She was gone?

      Women never left TMA. Rolling over, he retrieved an earring from the sheets, then he went to the window to confirm she hadn’t tried to give herself a ride home in his helicopter. His Road Rover was still here, too, although he’d left the keys in it. You could do that here. He hadn’t heard one car alarm since he’d been in Blackwater Inlet. He frowned. He would have heard her call a cab, right? Well...maybe not, given that he’d slept like the dead. But why hadn’t she asked him to give her a ride? Most women would have used that as an excuse to get to know him better. He went to the kitchen, thinking she’d left a note. She’d probably signed it, so he’d know her name. But no...

      TMA, most women wanted sex, then breakfast. At the least, a ride to their car. The woman who’d kept calling him Mr. Electricity had left, though. He was still trying to piece together fragments he’d heard over the music last night. Something about unwelcome incidents and loving her work. He could swear, as she’d drifted off, she’d whispered, “The Learning Investment.” What was that about?

      And why hadn’t she stayed? The dental office wasn’t open today, and he’d made her come more times than even he’d thought possible, so her leaving didn’t make sense. Had she left a note in his coat pocket? His breath caught when he realized she’d taken the coat. He didn’t care about clothes, but the coat was special. A gift. He loved that coat. He quit worrying about it when he pictured the clothes she wore by day. Definitely, she had a dependable side and would return things she borrowed. Tomorrow after he asked about the coat, he was going to undress her, removing the sweater set, lab coat, and the ridiculously practical shoes she wore to her office.