Free Highly Charged! by Joanne Rock

pebbled at his touch.
    â€œI want your mouth on me any way I can have it.” His questing fingers dipped beneath the fabric to cup her shoulder, his palm within deliciously easy striking distance of one tight, aching nipple.
    Still, she wouldn’t waste her one opportunity to kiss him by falling on him with more hunger than finesse. She cupped his face in one hand, the bristles of late-night stubble scratching pleasurably along her palm. And, once she was certain he no longer lingered in a dream, she guided him closer. Closer.
    Her eyelids fell shut at the last moment and still her mouth landed precisely where she’d wanted it, brushing his with featherweight pressure. Her breasts knew no such restraint, however, shamelessly pressing against the solid wall of muscle of his chest.
    He groaned, and she thought she echoed it, the vibration of pleasure a mutual music that made all her nerve endings tingle. His hands speared deeper under her nightdress until they spanned her bare back and pressed her tight to him. He felt so very good. Even better than in her fevered dreams about him. The temptation to strip off her nightclothes and climb into the sheets with him was strong, but she’d only signed on for the kiss. And by God, it was going to be a good one.
    With a dart of her tongue, she massaged his lower lip. She remembered the words of the book he’d quoted about the phantom licks along a throbbing sex and wondered if he’d been equally plagued by the notion. Ah, but it was different for a man, wasn’t it?
    Parting his lips with hers, she captured his tongue and drew on it lightly. His grip on her lower back tightened, his own back arching in response.
    No question, he’d felt a few phantom strokes right where she’d wanted.
    Giving herself over to the pure pleasure of the moment, she reveled in the sensuality of that hot connection. All around her, a cool spring breeze blew against her skin wherever Brad didn’t touch her. By contrast, she burned everywhere his body grazed.
    More.
    When she pushed closer, he lifted her onto his lap.
    Her thigh met the impressive resistance of his erection. She gasped at the feel of it, as rigid and well proportioned as everything else on him. “Come here,” he urged, tugging her down to the open futon with him as he fell back onto the pillows.
    Not that she required urging. She didn’t think she could stop until she knew what it felt like to have his hand palm her breast. Everything about Brad’s kiss excited her, made her want more and more.
    She normally felt clumsy in bed, her experience limited because of her focus on her career and her reservations about romance in general. But here in this awkward futon with Brad, Nikki felt like a goddess of pleasure. Her senses roared to life. Her sex clenched with readiness until her thighs turned damp.
    And still the kiss went on and on. Languid. Delicious. She wanted more and couldn’t wait any longer, then remembered he’d promised a kiss only.
    Gladly, she ended any moral dilemma he might have had about that promise by transplanting his palm to the aching weight of her breast.
    Freed to touch her, Brad squeezed gently, circling the tight crest with his finger until she whimpered impatiently. Only then did he leave her mouth to trail kisses down her throat to the swell of cleavage above the neck of her nightgown. It required only the smallest effort to sweep aside lace to expose her nipple. He feasted on her there, treating each breast with thorough reverence.
    And still there was no moment when she wanted to stop, no natural breaking-away point when she feared what came next might be a disappointment. No, she knew now that this highly charged current between them would only get hotter and more powerful the longer they lay together. Even now, her body wept for the completion he could offer. She had to squeeze her thighs tight against it, and that only made it worse.
    â€œNik?”