Too hot to sleep Read Free Page B

or a brief man.”
    What was the mystery woman’s intention? Engage in a little late-night dirty talk to entice this Rob guy to come over? “Boxer,” Ken blurted, then swallowed and leaned back onto his requisite three-pillow stack. Had he lost his mind? Or more appropriately, had he lost his shame?
    “Mmm. Do you sleep in them?”
    When I sleep. He couldn’t remember such a welcome interruption though—few of his dreams were this good. He might have thought his partner was playing another practical joke on him, but even Klone wouldn’t go this far. And the woman sounded so sincere, she had to be the real thing. His job required him to make life-and-death split-second judgments, but suddenly he was gripped with indecision—’fess up, hang up, or play up.
    His body made the decision by sending a flood of desire to swell his deprived loins. What would be the harm in succumbing to one wild impulse? Before he had time to reconsider, he muttered, “Mmm-hmm.” Knowing she might realize her mistake any second, he held the mouthpiece a few inches away from his mouth. On the other hand, if she didn’t know what kind of underwear Robbie Boy wore, maybe she’d just met the man. Or maybe she was a prostitute. Ken had lived in the South for most of his adult life, but had never met a woman named Georgia.
    “I thought it was time to let you know how I feel.”
    Or maybe her boyfriend simply didn’t know how good he had it. “Okay,” he offered.
    “But not if this makes you uncomfortable.”
    He found the crack in her confidence endearing.Did she have any idea how sexy her voice sounded? And the only thing uncomfortable at the moment was his hardening erection. “I’m fine. Um…go on.” When silence followed, he was afraid she was onto him.
    “Can you shed those boxers?” she whispered.
    In for a penny, in for a pound. Ken reached beneath the warmish pilled sheet and slid off his shorts in three seconds flat, not an easy feat in a waterbed while juggling a phone. The TV remote he’d left on the bed crashed to the wood floor. “They’re gone. Are—” Ken wet his lips, “are you undressed?”
    “Not yet,” she said. “I’m wearing a white button-up blouse and a white bra.”
    Ken closed his eyes. “Take…take them off,” he urged.
    From the rustling sounds, he surmised she was stripping. His mind whirled, wondering what this woman who called herself Georgia looked like. Was she redheaded? A brunette? Blonde? Brown eyes? Blue? Hazel? Long hair? Short? Sections of his fantasy woman clicked into place like the tiles in a vertical slot machine. Long, dark hair, blue eyes, a great smile, curvy. And peeling off her clothes.
    “They’re off.”
    Ken bit his tongue to keep from asking more questions that might end the phone call. His hand slid beneath the sheet, and he imagined Georgia easing into the bed next to him.
    “It’s hot over here,” she continued, much to his relief. “And I just couldn’t sleep after leaving the club. All that nudity affected me.”
    She was a stripper? That explained the stage name.His conscience eased somewhat. At least she wasn’t some innocent lady shedding her modesty for the first time. And she must have an incredible body. Her shadow of an accent didn’t belong to a Southern belle, but in his mind, Georgia was as lush and sticky-sweet as her name implied.
    “I need to relax,” she said, sighing.
    Ken could almost feel her breath warming his neck. His answer was a low groan of encouragement.
    “Lately I’ve been hoping we could become more…intimate.”
    “I never knew,” he replied in a low tone. The truth.
    “We’ve both been a little shy, but somehow, it’s easier to talk about my fantasies on the phone like this.”
    A hot flush traveled over his skin. “Go on.”
    “My breasts,” she said, her voice suddenly tentative again.
    Round? High? Firm?
    “Sensitive. So sensitive.”
    Not as visual, but he could make it work. “Mmm-hmm.”
    She was breathing