Free Talk Dirty To Me by Inez Kelley, Ginny Glass

He’d turned her into some sort of orgasm-crazed monster.

    And damn Jarod Reed for being the man slowly replacing her faceless Romeo. The low ache returned with throbbing force at just the thought of Jarod pressing against her in the sharp chill of the night air, his green eyes on fire, his mouth sending hot desire charging through her. He’d wanted her tonight. She’d wanted him. He’d been tense with promise. She’d wanted to step back into his arms and take him up on his decadent offer.

    “Find a dark street and fog up the car windows…”

    It got her going instantly. Her nipples tightened and she pressed her knees together in the heated water of her bath. How was it that the sweetly seductive professor sparked the same reaction as James? James was her hardcore liberator, the man who made her feel as if sex and synapses were vastly disconnected, despite her theories. Jarod was, on the surface, a man she would compare schedules with to decide if they could steal a few sweet moments before her Advanced Chem class.

    James was fantasy sex. Jarod was practical magic. She wanted both, but the choice wasn’t as simple as it should be. She was greedy after those frigid years for what James gave her—complete freedom to let go of her inhibitions and just be. What would gentle Jarod think of a woman who got off on the phone with a stranger, who had left him standing in a soft fall of snow to rush home and do it again? What would he think if he knew the raunchy, naughty thoughts she had about him while listening to another man?

    Water lapped at the curve of her breast as she sank lower. She’d hurt him. She’d basically rejected his attention and wounded his masculine pride. Shame settled bitterly. She needed to apologize. But how? She didn’t even have Jarod’s number, that’s how new they were to one another. She couldn’t even call him and apologize—or explain.

    Toeing open the stopper on the tub, Nora slid down and let the water drain around her. With each inch that flowed out, she felt her limbs grow heavier until she lay naked against the bare, chilly porcelain, tears stinging her already damp lashes.

    Jarod’s phone woke him from a deep sleep, an exhausted sprawl he’d fallen into when he finally succumbed to frustrated fatigue. He jerked up from the pillow and fumbled toward the foot of the bed—the last-known whereabouts of his cell phone. He hung haphazardly off the edge of the mattress as he answered.

    “Hello?”

    Nothing but raspy breathing on the other end. Jarod pulled the phone away from his ear and squinted at the screen. Private number. Annoyance spiked.

    “Look, is this some kind of joke?” His voice rasped, cracked and gruff. He cleared his throat. “This is not funny. I was asleep, you little shit.”

    Jarod punched the disconnect. If he wanted to hear someone pant into the phone, he’d call Nora and put himself out of his misery. He buried his head under the comforter with a moan.

    Cold shock descended like an ocean wave, crashing with a deafening roar. Her knees buckled and her back slid down the kitchen wall.

    Jarod?

    James?

    Jarod was James?

    She’d caved under guilt, called the head of Campus Security and told a fib. The older man had commiserated over a mix-up with computer files and supplied Jarod’s phone number. Nora had screwed up her courage and dialed as soon as the clock ticked to seven on the dot Sunday morning.

    She’d expected a possible cold shoulder. She’d expected tense silence. She had not expected that gruff, husky, just-out-of-bed voice that flooded her panties with erotic warmth. Jarod was James? Oh God.

    Numbed shock faded, replaced by blistering anger. Jarod was James, the lying son of a bitch. He knew. He’d known the whole time. He’d played her like a hot tip on a race pony. Did he laugh at her? Was he chuckling under his breath at the frigid little phone nympho he’d thawed with a few whispered eroticisms? Did he sit across from her