Joanne Rock - Up Close and Personal

“If you’ll just turn sideways for me, Rocco, I think we’re ready to begin.” Jessica warned her hands not to be nervous as they fluttered over his shoulders and then landed softly on either side of his neck.

Holy Mary, Mother and Joseph.

She had to hold herself rigid in order to suppress her reaction to the electric shock that traveled through her fingers, up her arms, danced around her breasts and then seared all the way down to her womb. Did the reaction show on her face? She lost her place in her spiel for a moment as she struggled to stifle the hum of sexual energy vibrating through her now.

She peered down at her fingers, planted on his shoulders, as if she could perceive some cause for the phenomenon.

“Excuse me,” she intoned finally, closing her eyes as she prayed for some memory of what the hell she’d been talking about. “I seem to have lost my place.”

Rocco cranked his neck around to see her, his blue eyes sparking with the same live current she felt through her hands. She was so completely out of her depth.

“You were discussing the right times to apply a variety of strokes.”

Jessica swore she could fall right into those eyes of his. They didn’t appear icy anymore. The crystalline blue held a white heat that threatened to singe away all her carefully rehearsed words. Already she felt herself falling into a sea of sensations, her brain failing to grasp what strokes he was talking about.

Damn it, maybe she was having a stroke. Although heart failure seemed more likely with this amount of stimulation.

“Yes, Jessica,” chimed in one of her students. Ingrid was a Hollywood director’s wife who had driven all the way to San Diego to take the class in the hope of keeping her attendance a secret from her husband. “You were just about to show us how to caress him for maximum benefit.”

The chorus of laughter began again, reminding her that she needed to keep a tight rein on the group or they would commandeer the class with racy innuendo and bawdy talk. And she had so much more to offer than that—if only she could keep her focus. She could not afford to let her unexpected reaction to Rocco derail her new business after all the years she’d worked to get this far.

“You’d just mentioned that there were different benefits to fast and slow strokes,” another woman prompted before lifting a martini to her lips.

“And could you perhaps define what you mean by ‘maximum benefit’ for a man? Is that a euphemism for climax?”

Damn. Damn. Damn.

“No.” She raised her voice enough to drown out some other helpful soul only too happy to join the discussion. “I’ve remembered my place now and I’d appreciate it if you could hold your questions until the end of the session.” She moved her fingers experimentally around Rocco’s impressive shoulders. “I was in the midst of demonstrating the difference between a friction touch and a vibration touch. Ladies, feel free to move your chairs around or walk to this side of the room if you can’t see.”

As the dynamics of the group shifted and the attendees shuffled around behind her, someone knocked into Jessica just enough to press her up against Rocco.

For one breathless second, her abdomen and her pelvic bone grazed his laterals, the whipcord muscles flexing enough to provide her with an intense secret thrill.

And oh my sweet stars. She needed to focus on her job and not the ill-timed attraction. Peeling herself off him with an effort, she half wondered what he thought of her workshop. Her.

“This is the friction touch.” She applied the necessary pressure, her hands ratcheting up the heat even though his skin burned beneath his shirt to start with. “It requires a more aggressive motion and it can draw your partner into a more sensual frame of mind.”

She’d read as much about the massage she was licensed to give, but she’d never experienced the magnetic pull on the other end. Not that she’d had reason to give many massages to men. She’d grown out of her old sexual fears a long time ago, but even as she’d been proud of herself for facing those fears, she hadn’t exactly been wowed by sex as a college student or after. Three years after her last relationship ended, she still hadn’t felt any great urge to revisit that perspective.

Until tonight.

Touching this man had her wickedly distracted as she realized she would be content for everyone else in the room to fall away. While that wouldn’t be good for her business, she thought it would be deliciously good for her.

“Next is a movement called petrissage, which is a type of kneading massage.” She spoke in order to help herself maintain focus, to lead herself through this lesson no matter how difficult it might be. “This technique involves light squeezing, gripping the muscles and rolling them under your hands.”

Rocco’s muscles were in such abundance it wasn’t hard to find a sample for her demonstration.

A student nearby cleared her throat before she spoke.

“It’s difficult to tell how much pressure you’re applying. Do you think we might be able to talk Mr. Easton into removing his shirt? Seeing your hands directly on his skin might be more helpful.”

Eight women nodded in tandem. Jessica’s knees buckled just a little at the mere thought of touching Rocco’s naked skin, as she noticed a tray full of scented massage oils waited nearby.

“I think we’ve probably detained our guest long enough as it is.” She hoped he would take the hint and sprint his sexy self right out the door before she melted all over him. “I hardly think we can ask him to—”

Rocco’s hands were already moving over the buttons of his dress shirt, his bow tie hanging loose and undone about his neck.

“It’s okay,” he returned easily, his movements relaxed despite the soaring temperature of his skin. “I’m finding your workshop informative too.”

And without another word, his white cotton dress shirt slithered off his shoulders, leaving Jessica facing the bronzed expanse of wide shoulders and taut sinew. From somewhere in the room, a dreamy feminine sigh seemed to encapsulate her thoughts completely.

“Maybe a little massage oil?” Ingrid said, passing her a bottle of vanilla honeysuckle blend. “It highlights the muscle groups, you know.”

The wicked grin on the woman’s face assured Jessica she was loving every second of class so far. Just what she wanted.

Working up her courage, she squirted some oil between her palms and rubbed them together for warmth. The scent filled the air as she lifted her hands to touch him again. Forcing her fingers onto his back, she braced herself for the electric shock all over again.

This time, her breasts ached and her breath caught. Her heart pounded so hard she feared the whole class would see the palpitations given that her camisole didn’t exactly provide extensive coverage.

“This is the friction touch.” She demonstrated briefly to minimize the sweet torment of caressing him. “And now we’ll learn the vibration touch.”

Scavenging up her autopilot teaching mode to take over, Jessica’s lips moved, spouting out her lesson. But in her head, she continued to linger on the idea of a vibration touch.

Never in her life had she found a need for the battery-operated toys some women used to find pleasure. But after tonight, she would seriously investigate the options ASAP. Something about touching Rocco Easton had made her realize she would need to find a way to take the sexual edge off her thoughts or she might never think straight again.

WARDING OFF pleasure—surprisingly—wasn’t all that different from warding off pain. Rocco had to mentally travel somewhere else in order to withstand the experience, his body growing more and more susceptible to its physical reactions.

Jessica’s hands proved as seductive as her charm had been to his father. Rocco fell deeper under their spell the longer she talked, the longer she worked her lubricated fingers over his skin. Interestingly, the seduction didn’t come from her obvious assets. She didn’t employ the more expected female tactics, like brushing her half-bared breasts against his back. Instead, she simply followed the guidelines she had set out in her workshop, using her professed techniques to the letter.

There was, he thought, something honest in that at least. And he had to believe he hadn’t abandoned his mission despite the way he’d allowed himself to come into such intimate contact with his investigative subject tonight. No matter what Jessica’s financial picture might be, he believed she sincerely embraced the principles she taught in this workshop by the way she kept the class on track.

Not once in the half hour—he glanced at the clock—no, forty-five minutes that he’d been here had Jessica rested her fingers or deviated from what he suspected was a well-rehearsed lecture. She gave her students more information than they’d ever retain.

“Ladies, this is a good touch to use on a man’s inner thigh.” Jessica’s words suddenly blasted their way into his consciousness, wrenching him back to the moment before he could steel himself for the impact.

A couple of the lecture attendees asked her some follow-up questions about that statement, but Rocco’s brain kept envisioning Jessica applying her skillful hands to his thighs. She touched him with light surface caresses in a quick, upward movement. What would that feel like if she transplanted it somewhere more overtly sexual?

Rocco was thankful for his foresight in putting his shirt on his lap after he removed it, as his blood surged south like a rogue wave.

“What do you think, Rocco?” Jessica leaned down into his field of vision, half-bending around his shoulders to make eye contact. “The question was—which touch did you find most effective for relaxation and which for erotic purposes?”

For a minute, the words sounded like Greek, since the only language he wanted to speak was physical. He was more interested in making this woman sigh with pleasure and call out his name. He wanted to see how fast he could get her naked and have her splayed on the chaise underneath him.

Except that he wasn’t here to sleep with her. He was here to investigate Jessica’s character. Test the legitimacy of her business and see if it seemed to generate enough income to finance her automobile. Too bad he was too freaking distracted by the raging erection he sported to comprehend much about her other than the fact that she turned him on.

“The first touches were the most relaxing.” Either that or he’d had more control early in the evening. “I think the styles of massage increased in, uh—firepower—as we went. Perhaps Jessica designed the program that way intentionally.”

“And what about the scent?” another student pressed.

“How did vanilla honeysuckle strike you?”

Like a freaking thunderbolt?

“Good.” He nodded. “Definitely a good scent.”

He looked to Jessica mostly to take some of the class scrutiny off of him. He’d never been this publicly aroused. The only time he’d been close, he’d marched his date out of the bar to take her home with him. That didn’t seem like an option now.

“Where’s everyone going?” He blinked his way through his turned-on state as he noticed two of the women disappearing into the connected suite.

“We’ve finished the erotic-massage portion of the retreat.” Jessica’s hand slowed on his back, her fingernails scratching lightly over his skin before coming to rest in the center of his shoulders. “A few of the women had dinner reservations downstairs they didn’t want to miss, but I know they all appreciated your willingness to sit in for the demonstration.”