“I’m going to need a plastic bag to put over the cast,” she said as she stepped back into the hallway, still pulling her right shoulder strap up.
Sam was standing across from her, leaning back against the wall, but he pushed away as she stepped through the door. His eyes were wide.
“Wow.”
She stopped short at the look in his eyes. She might as well have been naked. He was looking at her as if memorizing every curve and prominence.
She tried to ignore the tingles that seemed to erupt everywhere as she realized that he was imagining peeling her swimming suit off of her. It was so clear, in fact, it was like reading his mind. “You going to be able to do this?” she asked.
“Definitely. I’m a little tight in my jeans, but I’m okay.”
Her eyes dropped to his fly in spite of her effort to avoid it. He was grinning when she looked back into his eyes.
“Let’s do this,” she muttered, stepping past him into the bathroom.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Washing my hair,” she clarified.
“Of course.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “The garbage bags are under the sink.”
“I’m all over it.”
She wanted him all over her. “Garbage bags.” She wasn’t sure if she said it to try to distract her own thoughts or to again clarify what he was all over.
“Right.”
She started the water running while Sam went to retrieve a plastic bag from the kitchen. She knew the moment he was back because the air temperature in the bathroom spiked and she could feel him behind her, checking out her butt.
“Isn’t that how we ended up in this mess?” she asked without looking at him.
“Yep,” he said unapologetically. “But it isn’t my fault. You can’t take someone to the edge of the Grand Canyon and expect him not to look.”
With the water the right temperature, she turned to frown at him. “My butt reminds you of the Grand Canyon?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Again, thinking too fast on my feet. How about you can’t take someone to see the Hope Diamond and expect him not to look.”
“Again, you’re comparing my butt to something that is extraordinarily big.”
He chuckled. “I can’t think of anything amazingly beautiful, but appropriately trim, firm and tiny.”
She tipped her head to one side, considering that. She, of course, didn’t think that he’d been insulting her and she couldn’t think of any other way to make him squirm so she shrugged. “Forgiven.”
She started to step into the tub and he immediately moved forward and took her good hand. Once she was standing in the warm water swirling at the bottom of the tub, he shook the plastic bag and held it out to her. She stuck her hand inside and he smoothed it over her cast, sliding a rubber band over it to hold it tight. It wasn’t going to be completely waterproof, but it would keep drops from kicking up onto the plaster. She would still, obviously, have to keep her hand up out of the water.
“Now what?” he asked.
Thankfully, she had a sprayer that could be taken down from the wall and held. “I’ll sit and then you’ll have to use that to wet my hair.”
“Sounds good.” For a guy who had been claiming to not know what to do with washing a woman’s hair, he certainly sounded confident.
He held onto her as she lowered herself carefully to the bottom of the tub. Then he knelt beside the tub on the fluffy lavender mat. He pulled up on the lever on the faucet that turned the shower on and she held her right hand up in the air.
“Here, rest your hand on my shoulder.” He moved so that she could rest her cast on his left shoulder, somehow leaning around to use his right hand to maneuver the sprayer head.
Warm water hit her scalp and coursed over her shoulders and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back at the feel of it, resisting the urge to sigh.
She felt Sam shift the sprayer to his left hand as his elbow rested on the edge of the tub, the spray angled at her feet for the moment. The gentle pressure of his right hand settled on her head, smoothing her hair back, his fingers curling gently into her scalp, massaging and wetting all the strands.
She did sigh then.
He was leaning in so close that she could smell that wonderful smell from him, and she kept her eyes closed, just absorbing the feel of him touching her, his scent and body heat around her.
“You’d better hold this.” He moved the handle of the sprayer to her left hand and shifted away.
She opened her eyes and saw him reaching for the shampoo bottle on the ledge. His eyes met hers as he poured some of the shampoo into his hand, then rubbed his hands together in small circles.
“Step two,” he said with a smile.
“So far, so good.”
He lifted his hands to her head and started a slow massage again, working the soap through her hair. She closed her eyes again. She didn’t know if he meant for the shampooing to be sensual, but it certainly was. Of course, this was Sam and it seemed that even the most innocent touch made her want him.
Her long hair was piled on top of her head and his fingers kneaded from her temples to the crown of her head, then down the back, to the base of her skull.
After a few delicious minutes, he reclaimed the sprayer and aimed it at her head, rinsing the bubbles off.
“Now?” he asked.
She thought his voice sounded hoarse, but when she looked at him he was simply watching her.
“Conditioner.” She pointed to the other bottle on the same shelf where he’d found the shampoo.
He repeated the pattern without another word, including the rinsing.
She opened her eyes again as she realized the rinsing was more than complete. “Could you…” she started, then stopped, hoping he’d let it go and knowing he wouldn’t at the same time.
“Yes, I could.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever you need.” He was suddenly so sincere.
Which made her ask hesitantly, “Could you help me wash my face too? While I’m already here and wet.”
At that Sam pulled in a quick, sharp breath, but he nodded. “Sure.”
She pointed to the bottle of foaming facial cleanser and he pumped a small amount into his palm and then spread it out with the pads of the fingers on the other hand. He lifted his hands to her face and gently began making circles on her cheeks.
“Here, I can…” she started.
He bumped her un-casted hand out of the way. “I’ve got it.”
It was strange being bathed for the first time in twenty years. Not terrible, but strange.
Sam’s fingers circled over her face, spreading cleanser over her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, over her cheeks and along her jaw and chin. He washed her face nearly two minutes longer than she ever had and Danika found it stupidly erotic. She figured Sam was just thinking what a pain in the ass this was all going to be after a few days.
Once the cleanser had been washed off, Danika realized she didn’t have any reason to linger in the tub. Other than that she just wanted to, at least.
“What about the rest?” Sam asked.
“The rest of what?”
“Your body. You have to bathe everything at some point.”
Of course she would. But…
“Are you offering to help?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned.
“If we do that,” she said directly, and out loud, “it will lead to much more than simple washing.”
“You seem pretty sure of that.”
“Completely.”
Playboy Prankster
Pamela Britton
From zero to sixty in a heartbeat—if she doesn’t throttle him first.
Extreme Racing, Book 1
When CJ Randall arrives in Nevada to cover the Celebrity Pro/Am Off Road Rally for DRIVE Magazine, she’s already stuck between a cactus
and a hard place. Her boss has made it clear if this article doesn’t measure up, her job is wrecked. Then she gets a look at the “pro” half of her “am”: Tan. Rich. Overconfident. Unsuitable. Bachelor. Lacking. Ethics.
T.R.O.U.B.L.E.
She’s sworn off tall, dark and handsome men. Too bad the desert heat is making her hyperventilate like a hormone-crazed teenager.
Despite her makeup-free face and ready-to-go attitude—a far cry from the high-maintenance women he’s used to—Bryce Danvers doesn’t expect CJ to last an hour. To his surprise, she toughs out the entire day. The least he can do is show his appreciation with some fast food and a friendly kiss.
The instant their lips connect, warning klaxons go off in CJ’s head. He’s a taste of heaven she can’t afford to sample again. Bryce finds himself wanting to give her generous curves a bumper-to-bumper inspection. And his focus on the checkered flag shot all to hell.
Warning: If you like your stories PG-13, this is not the book for you. If you like Boy Scout race car drivers with clean-cut reputations, you should pass. And if you like to breathe while reading, steer clear. Love, laughter and hot, hot, hot sex scenes will leave you gasping for air.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Playboy Prankster
Copyright © 2010 by Pamela Britton
ISBN: 978-1-60928-232-5
Edited by Tera Kleinfelter
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2010
www.samhainpublishing.com
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Playboy Prankster Page 19
