Charlie All Night by Jennifer Cruise Page A

thinking about him. She wanted him. She
physically
itched for him.
This wasn't the gauzy need she'd always assumed women
felt for the men they lusted after. This
was unpleasant and
uncomfortable and would require full body contact to satiate.

And he'd already said no once.

Suppose she just strolled out there.

And then what? Took off her nightgown? Did the dance of the seven
veils? That would never work.
She was a lousy dancer. Production was
her specialty, not seduction. Maybe if she made up some
cue cards:
"Yes, Allie, I'd love to Sleep with you. Take off your clothes."

Right, that would work.

Besides, he was probably already asleep.

She put her head on her knees and moaned softly. She was never going to
get to sleep.
    *  *  *
Charlie sat up and put his head in his hands. He was never going to get
to sleep. He wanted her
so much now, he hrobbed with it. How the hell
had this happened?

What difference did it make?

He threw off the covers and stood up.

He'd just knock on her door. She was probably asleep. Fhen he'd go back
to the couch and go to sleep.

Right.

He picked up his shaving kit and pulled out a strip of con-loms,
shoving them in the pocket of his
sweats before he went :o her door.

He knocked softly. "Allie?"

"Come in," she said.

She was sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped around her cnees and her
glossy brown hair tangled
around her face. "I can't sleep," she said.

"Me, neither." He sat down beside her. "You and your one last kisses."
He cradled her cheek in his
hand. "Do you still want that one-night
stand?"

"Yes," she breathed, and the heat flared in him.

"Thank God." He slid his arm around her. "Move over."
    3
Charlie moved pretty fast for a big guy, shoving off his sweatpants and
sliding her nightgown over
her head while she drew a sharp breath at
his touch. The heat flared in her when the shock of his
skin touched
hers, and he touched her everywhere. She clutched him to her, tipping
her head back
for his mouth as if the muscles in her neck had given
way. His hands moved over her, stroking her
back, her sides, sliding
down to pull her close to the hardness of his hips, and all the while
he
tormented her mouth with his tongue. He was everywhere, and wherever
he was, there was heat.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her mouth, and she clung
to him and whispered
back, "You,"

He moved down her throat to the hollow between her neck and shoulder,
making her squirm as he
found the nerve there. He trailed more hot
kisses down her shoulder until his mouth found her breast
and she
forgot who she was. He dallied there, sucking hard until she could feel
the pull and tingle deep inside her. She moved against him
convulsively, pressing him to her, and he moved his mouth to her
other
breast and made her moan again.

Allie drowned in the heat; waves of it washed over her as Charlie moved
against her. Then his mouth found hers again and he was kissing her
hard, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he pulled her on
top of
him and pressed her head to his so that she couldn't escape his kiss.
She stretched against him, drunk with desire, and he rolled over so she
was under him again and moved his hand between them, lower this time.

His whisper tickled her ear and made her squirm. "You have a beautiful
body, Allie. You were made
for love." He slid his hand between her legs
and she gasped and arched up to meet him.

"Don't ever stop touching me," she said thickly. Her skin prickled, and
the pounding came stronger,
in rhythm with his hand. "Don't ever, ever
stop."

But he did, rolling away from her to reach for something on the floor.
She heard foil tearing.

"Charlie."

She struggled to sit up and then his mouth was on hers again, his hands
on her hips, his body against
hers. He pulled her under him and then he
was inside her, sliding into her, and she felt her entire body clench
and throb as he rocked into her, felt herself drawn into the pounding
in her blood, in his blood,
the pounding