Slow Hand Curves (Big Girls Next Door Erotica) Read Free

-- at least until I got to the parking lot and had to watch some jerk drooling over Little Miss Satan.
    A warm, strong hand closed around my elbow. “Oh no, Hollywood. You’re coming with me.”
    Coming? Certainly I was close -- at least I thought I was. If I knew whether I really was close, I wouldn’t have been there at all. But the juncture of my thighs had never felt so electric. Muscles I’d never felt before were starting to dance and squeeze and something inside me gave a little roll that turned my knees to rubber.
    Feeling lightheaded, I closed my eyes. When I opened them, he was staring down at my face, his gaze hooded by his thick lashes.
    “Are you feeling okay?” His other hand wrapped around my opposite shoulder to steady me.
    Realizing I was about to nod again like the complete dolt I was, I gathered what little composure I had left and lightly brushed his hand from me. “I’m fine, Mr. Pepin. Why did you call me Hollywood?”
    The grin came back, my nipples instantly puckering in response. Like the rest of him, his smile was sexy as sin.
    “Because of these.” His hands, surprisingly gentle for their size, reached up, parted my blonde curls, and lifted my sunglasses off. “And call me Sam .”
    Carefully folding the glasses, he hooked one of their metallic blue arms inside the collar of his polo shirt. His hands took possession of me once more and guided me into the treatment room. Stopping in front of a padded chair, he picked up a remote and started pushing buttons.
    The chair straightened and lifted until it looked like a tall, narrow table with over-sized cushions. He folded the arms down, turned to a standing cabinet and pulled out a lightweight terry robe. He offered the robe to me, but didn’t let go when I reached to take it.
    “What kind of music relaxes you?”
    I shrugged. There was no way I was going to relax with him in the same room with me. His rich, warm voice lapped at my thighs and the way his scent curled around my senses struck a very real fear that I would do something embarrassing if he got any closer.
    His smiling gaze turned impish. “When you’re in the tub, the water all warm and bubbly…don’t you have any music playing?”
    I blushed, embarrassed that I was incapable of even taking a bath like a normal woman. “Hymns, mostly.”
    Sam’s chuckle went straight to my thighs, jolting my swollen flesh like a hard smack. “That’s a waste of a bubble bath, Hollywood. How about I line us up some Etta James?”
    “Okay.” Trying not to seem like a complete square, I gave him a tentative smile. “Is she new?”
    “New? Etta James?” His voice suddenly grew stern, only the playful tilt of his head and the twinkle of his bright green eyes stopped me from panicking. “Miss Rice, you put that robe on and prepare to be schooled.”
    He left me to change, my expression wide-eyed and slack-jawed as I wondered if he had any idea why I was there.
    *****
    I was sitting on the edge of the table-chair thingie when Sam returned, my legs demurely crossed at the ankles. I was too short for the table’s height. Even pointed down, my toes were still half a foot from the floor.
    My hands fisting the lapels of the robe, I forced a blush down as he approached. “There wasn’t a sash.”
    Watching me from the corner of his eyes, he plugged an iPod into a docking station. Just enough of his grin was visible to make me forget about the sash and meekly obey him when he told me to lie down on my belly.
    His hands dipped between my chest and the cushioned surface, catching the edge of the lapels and lifting the top half of the robe off my shoulders and down my arms. “I couldn’t do that if there was a sash, could I?”
    “No, I guess not.” I lifted my head as he slid a pillow under it.
    His fingers darted out and smoothed my curls to the side as a woman’s sultry voice started playing over the docking station’s speakers. She sang like pure sex and I wondered why I’d never heard