Perfect Touch by Elizabeth Lowell

Author:Elizabeth Lowell
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-06-09T04:00:00+00:00

When dawn stroked gentle fingertips over Jay, he was lying on his stomach, his head turned toward the center of the bed.

No, not dawn. Sara.

He opened his eyes as he arched against the fingers sliding slowly down his spine, probing sensuously, caressing each vertebra.

“All there?” he asked, his voice husky with sleep and desire.

“Twenty-two . . . twenty-three . . . twenty-four,” she murmured. “So far so good. The last nine are harder to count, even with the curtains open and the sun pouring in. Those are fused in two sections—your vertebrae, not the curtains. Five in the lower back”—her fingers probed less gently—“and four in the coccyx, also called the tailbone. Sometimes a light touch is better for counting there.”

His body tensed as her fingertips slid to the crease in his buttocks and kept going.

“All thirty-three present and accounted for,” she said. “Plus two, oh yeah, two really fine testicles, also called balls.” Her hand massaged slowly as she admired the way his body tightened into clearly defined muscles. “And last but really not least”—her hand slid under his body—“we have one penis, which we’ve already established is truly a bronze-worthy work of art.”

“I don’t want to know how many ribs I have,” he warned her, flexing and releasing his buttocks to rub against her fingers.

“Ticklish?”

“Are you?”

“Right. No ribs.”

He rolled to his side, making it easier for her to stroke him—and for him to pet and tease her breasts.

“I could get used to waking up with you in the morning,” he said, admiring the peak he drew from her breast.

“Same goes. I’m going to enjoy you to the max before I go back home.”

His fingers paused, then resumed shaping her. “When do you have to go back?”

“I’ve been thinking about that since I woke up,” she admitted.

“And?” He rolled her nipple.

Her breath caught. “I think the Custers will show best in Jackson. There’s plenty of high-end traffic there, the kind that will be attracted to the paintings and can afford to buy. Of course, we won’t be selling. We’ll just be pumping up buzz before a future auction date. There was a space for rent across from the antler park that—”

“Antler park?”

“The place downtown that has antler arches leading to grass.”

He smiled. “Antler park. I like it. There was an empty storefront?”

“Yes. If you rent it for, say, six months, I could set up a display space for the best of the Custers. I know it’s hard to rent prime retail space for only six months, but some kind of deal could be worked out.”

“No problem. If we’re thinking of the same space,” he said as his fingers probed between her legs, “Vermilion Properties owns the building. It used to be a modern art gallery.”

“Handy,” she said breathlessly.

“Very.” His fingers slid into her. “God, I love the feel of you.”

“We’re supposed to be talking business.”

“Multitask.” He lifted her leg and rested it on his hip, opening her for his pleasure. And hers. “So assume that the space is rented.

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