Free All of You by Dee Tenorio

what the names meant. But it wasn’t as if she needed either the plants or the meals or even Dory’s innuendos to keep the man on her mind. Kyle Lonnigan was proving impossible to forget all on his own.
    How could she have gone so long without sex, yet after one night decide she couldn’t live without it? It was as if he’d slipped her some kind of permanent aphrodisiac. Sleep had all but disappeared from her radar and in its place was a constant craving for more of his touch, his taste. Her body stayed tense, sensitized. As if instead of sating her, he’d simply whetted her appetite, leaving her with an unrelenting need that grew with each thought of him. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
    Every time she dressed, the slide of silk over her skin reminded her of his palms gliding over her breasts before firmly squeezing and taking the aching tips into his mouth. The whisper of fabric reminded her of the slide of her sheets beneath their overheating bodies. Worse, her bedroom felt too big, too empty, too quiet, since he’d gone, though he’d been there only an hour.
    She’d stripped her bed, but she could still smell his cologne on her pillows. She took a sleep aid only to discover her dreams were all about him. Wanting him. Having him. Toying with him. Her subconscious never replayed what had actually happened between them. No, her imagination opted to consider all the things she’d wanted to do with him. The things she’d been deprived of when she woke up alone in a tangle of sheets and confusion.
    Even now, angry as she was, her mouth watered at the thought. Wrapping her fist around his cock, pumping him toward her open lips, letting him think she would lick, but missing her tongue by just…that…much. Then, when he least expected it, wrapping her mouth around the head and swallowing him whole, sucking him down over and over again until he gave her what she wanted. And when those fantasies ended, she moved on to the things he could have been doing to her…
    Every morning since, she’d woken up with her fingers deep in her sex, straining close to orgasm, her clit straining for a wet kiss it was never going to get.
    For that alone, she wanted to kill him.
    Almost as much as she wanted to drag him into her office and demand he finish what he started.
    The fourth morning was peculiarly quiet, which explained—she supposed—why she answered the phone while Dory was out to lunch. The caller ID left no question who was on the other side of the line. But if she had to be brutally honest with herself, the truth was she just wanted to hear him again.
    “I’m getting to you, aren’t I?” he asked without preamble.
    “Not really,” she replied in her firmest voice, staring at the crooked cushion across from her desk, wishing she could squish it further down. Along with every instinct screaming at her to see exactly how far he was willing to go for forgiveness.
    “Yes, I am. I can tell.”
    Smug schmuck. “Get to a lot of people, do you?”
    His laugh nearly curved her own lips, sending millions of little sparks of pleasure through her. Sparks she didn’t want. “If considering harassment charges means you’re getting to me, then yes, Kyle, you’re getting to me.”
    “You feel harassed?”
    Why did he sound so surprised? She longed to be a better liar. Since she wasn’t, she dodged. “I feel exhausted. I have hours of work to do. I don’t have time for your games.”
    “This isn’t a game for me, Jess.”
    She also hated how her whole body continued to preen at the hated nickname. From anyone else, it brought back memories she’d rather not rehash. From him… No, not thinking about it. “It isn’t a game for me either. It’s my life and you’re ruining it. Why can’t you just let what happened be a mistake?”
    He gave her the benefit of mulling over his answer. “Because I could never consider meeting someone like you a mistake.”
    Then, very quietly, without any kind of goodbye, he