Switch Me On. Jule Mcbride

of being swept away by sensual pleasure.

      “The harsh light of reality,” she whispered hoarsely. Dammit, her short-lived attractions to men were legendary, but this had been the most promising first kiss coupled with the fastest letdown. She realized she’d probably ruined her voice tonight, too. She couldn’t afford to do that, she really couldn’t.

      He whispered, “Shut your eyes. It will help you reenter the fantasy.”

      So, he was a mind reader, too. Possessed by her usual demons, she followed the recommendation. Picking right up where he left off, his mouth claimed hers, his tongue plunging, her mind catapulting over high bars and landing in a hazy state of brownout bliss. She opened her eyes and realized he was probably the only person left in Boondocks who looked even better in harsh light.

      He said, “I don’t think you should drive.”

      She wasn’t proud of it, but she wanted to stay here forever. Exhaling on a shudder, she brushed the dark hairs near the throat of the shirt. Not too silky, not too wiry, but just right. Exactly how a man’s chest hairs ought to feel.

      “I’m going to give you a ride.”

      Her riding him. That’s what she was thinking about it. Uh-oh. But she couldn’t drive herself home. Eli Jones had been sworn in last year as sheriff, and while he’d never jail Ari for a minor infraction like being tipsy inside Boondocks, driving under the influence was another matter. Glancing at the stranger’s open shirt, she added indecent exposure to her list of crimes. Since Eli’s Unwelcome Incident, he hadn’t so much as sniffed at her—not in a boyfriend way—but he’d happily see her safely home in his cop car if she called him. Especially since she was on such good terms with the Mrs. Eli, who did hair for all the Madden women.

      She could call Urgent Care, for that matter. Doc Dickerson would send the ambulance. He always credited his attraction to medicine to Ari, saying he’d found his true calling the day they’d played doctor in the sandbox when they were five, and their mothers were trading casserole recipes.

      “I don’t even know you.”

      “You can get to know me on the way.”

      He made it sound so reasonable.

      Paulie yelled, “Pack it in, homeboys.”

      Not-a-homeboy started kissing down her neck again. The wet pad of his tongue conjured everything a female was supposed to feel when her sex drive took over, and nothing existed except the hot, handsome man making her climb to an explosive release. He wasn’t saying any dirty words, and he didn’t have to. The slow pressure of his mouth said it all. Obviously, he’d clocked as many practice hours as she when it came to first base.

      “Let’s go home.”

      He looked so persuasive. “Are you a lawyer or something?”

      “I deal with electricity.”

      Despite how he’d made her body tingle all over, or maybe because of it, she giggled. “I could have told you that.”

      He smiled. “I work with currents, surges, hubs, switches.”

      No power failure here. He was hard enough that she could feel his shape and size and heat. He was a big man all over, every inch.

      “I get it,” she whispered, her voice raspy. He’d found the switch labeled common sense and flipped it off ages ago.

      His voice was as husky as hers. “The lights in here are too bright.”

      “Too bright for what?”

      “You know. And don’t start analyzing. Those shrinks left an hour ago.”

      “Okay, Mr. Electricity,” she said. “But the last thing I need right now is another boyfriend, so you’d better man-up and take me straight home.”