Free Guard (The Underground Book 3) by Becca Jameson

Every inhale filled her senses with more of him. Every swipe of her tongue filled her with his taste.
    She molded her hands to his head and forearm, learning his feel. He was rock solid, and she loved it. She smoothed her hand down from his head to his neck and then his back. Every inch of him. Tight bundles of bulging muscles.
    He eased his hand down from her face to her torso, spreading his fingers out until they stretched around to her back and down toward her belly. His thumb grazed the edge of her breast and made her arch into him.
    He kept kissing her.
    She never wanted him to stop.
    A fire she hadn’t known existed lit inside her, warming her everywhere. She couldn’t stay still. She needed to move. Touch him everywhere. And she let her hands roam all over his back and down to his ass. So bold. The tight muscles of his butt made her even hotter.
    Her nipples abraded against the cotton. She wiggled her hips as her pussy came alive as if it had been in hibernation just waiting for the right person to come along and bring it back to life. Wetness leaked into her panties and probably through to her PJs.
    She lifted her hips involuntarily, craving the friction against his thigh.
    He obliged by pushing his knee up higher and thrusting it against her sex.
    Oh. God.
    She couldn’t breathe. So much sensation all at once firing from everywhere. She grabbed his shoulders finally and pushed, trying to break the contact. Her body was on overload, every synapse firing at once. No room to think.
    Mikhail broke the kiss when she shoved on his chest. His breathing was heavy and erratic. He set his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. His thumb stroked over the curve of her breast.
    Suddenly she was self-conscious. This man was a god. His body was a vessel of perfection. She was a skinny redhead with nowhere close to the same level of experience as he clearly had.
    After all, he’d managed to scramble her mind in seconds.
    “Mikhail…” His name rolled off her tongue so easily. Like honey. And she licked her lips as soon as she spoke. They were swollen. Wet from his kiss.
    “Stop squirming, baby. Please.” He closed his eyes, but his mouth curved into a grin.
    She froze, not realizing she was still rubbing herself against his bare thigh. The man wore nothing but boxers. “Sorry.” The word came out as a squeak. What was wrong with her?
    His eyes popped open. “Don’t be. God, never be sorry for the way you feel. Especially if it’s hot and needy. It’s just that you’re making it difficult for me to be a gentleman here.”
    His thumb. God, that thumb. He was driving her mad stroking it across the swollen globe. Every time she breathed, her chest rose up into his thumb tighter.
    She opened her mouth, though she didn’t have any idea how to respond. Her face heated. There would be red splotches everywhere, even down her chest and across her breasts. She’d never been able to control that reaction to embarrassment.
    Mikhail set a finger on her lips. “Shh. I can see the arguments running around in your head. Stop. Just let yourself feel.”
    “I don’t…” she muttered against his finger.
    He pressed harder. “I know.”
    Her belly did a flip flop. Exactly never in her life had she wanted a man as badly as she wanted this one. She longed for him to strip her clothes off and slide inside her.
    Now.
    But she wasn’t that kind of girl. She’d only known him a few weeks. It was way too soon to sleep with him. Wasn’t it?
    Someone needed to give her body the memo.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    She nodded, licking her lips. “A little too okay.”
    He chuckled, his chest reverberating against hers. “There’s no such thing.”
    “I beg to differ. I’m not the kind of person who gets carried away like that. Like this,” she amended.
    He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re like a firecracker. What are you talking about?”
    She shook her head. “Never. No. I mean, I’m not.”
    His smile spread again. “Then I