Free Circuit Breakers (Contract Negotiations) by Jordan Billingsly, Brooke Carson Page B

know I’d be running later than expected. I omitted the details about my overwhelming need to see this man, and she seemed okay with the details of “contract” talk. When she disconnected the call, I sat staring out the front windshield of my car, with my hands still on the wheel. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back, slightly, and let whatever chemistry that had started the day before, run rampant through my body.
    As I sat there, for God knows how long, I’m sure I was probably a sight, if anyone should   wander this far back into the parking lot and catch me fantasizing in my front seat. I know I was lost, because the knock that came on my passenger window had me startled and nearly gave me heart failure. Looking sharply toward the noise, I found Mitch leaning over, grinning as he watched me, one hand resting on the top of my car, the other on the door handle. I slammed my hand over my heart, took a couple of quick breaths, and unlocked the door.
    “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he drawled, smoothly, the grin never leaving his lips. He sank into the seat and placed a manila folder on the floor by his feet.
    Face flushed, I stammered, “I . . .um . . .I didn’t sleep that well last night, just resting a bit,” I lamely tried to explain.
    Mitch chuckled, then turned in his seat toward me, slightly, “Me either.”
    I still had my hands clenched on the steering wheel without realizing it, and my eyes leveled to the slightly worn spot on the knee of his jeans. Before I knew what was happening, Mitch placed his index finger under my chin, tilted my face up, and leaned in to place his lips on mine. My adrenaline rush shot through the roof.
    Soft, but firm, lips were meeting mine, and a questing tongue slipping across the seam, had me opening my mouth as I stared into his eyes, before closing them and losing myself to mind-numbing sensations. His hand moved to the nape of my neck, and I felt myself being tugged across the console onto his lap, never losing contact as our tongues tangled. I vaguely noticed when he slipped his hand between his legs and released the seat to slide farther back. I only knew, I had more freedom to move and took advantage.
    Twisting in his lap I ran my hands across his shoulders, around his neck, then through his hair before spreading them across his back. Mitch continued to kiss me like a starving man in need of food, and I was his meal. He stroked his hands up and down my back, pausing, tantalizingly slow, on the down stroke near my ass. I strained to burrow closer, my legs squirming with the need to squeeze him between them. My body tingled with the need to be touched all over then stilled as Mitch’s hand firmly molded itself to the cheek of my ass and tugged me closer on the next downward slide. The pressure was exquisite torture, but I wanted it. I moved my head to the side and arched my back to increase the feel of his contoured chest rubbing against the sensitized tips of my breasts. His lips moved to my jaw then continued to my ear lobe, where he nipped slightly before running his tongue over the same area. But Mitch still didn’t move those glorious lips where I wanted them the most.
    His lips continued their slow, torturous exploration, as he applied quick butterfly kisses down my neck. When his mouth paused at the delicate bend where neck and shoulder met, he latched on to my neck and sucked with greater force. A tidal wave traveled all the way to my sex, where moisture pooled, soaking my panties. I could feel the hard, thick length of him pressing against my hip and I whimpered with need. When his free hand reached my breast, instead of finding relief, my need for him grew. A moaned was wrenched from my body as my nipple hardened further. The electricity in the air was palpable, and I thought I might combust.
    His hand traveled down my body to my knee, making me gasp in anticipation. It inched its way under the hem of my sundress and stroked my thigh, lightly, as he