What Janie Wants Read Online Free PDF Page A

stilettos, and Photoshop. Everything that flies in the face of what I wanted to give them.”
    “ Give who?”
    “ Women.”
    Janie’s gaze locked with his and, for a second, he wondered if she was holding her breath. She rolled her lips inward the way women did when trying to smooth out their lipstick, twisted as though looking for something behind her, and flicked the bottle’s top closed.
    Her back. She couldn’t reach her back with the lotion. The cut of the swimsuit was low and her barely tanned skin was on display. Talk about divine intervention.
    He stood and tugged the bottle from her grip. “Scoot up.”
    “ Huh?”
    “ Scoot up.”
    Warily, she studied him.
    He straddled the lounger behind her and sat.
    “ What are you doing?”
    He squeezed out enough lotion to make damned sure he’d have to rub for a while. “Helping you with your sunscreen.”
    “ You can’t do that.”
    “ Why not? Would you rather burn?”
    Janie twisted. “But it’s not appropri—”
    His hands connected on either side of her spine and her shoulders snapped back. “Easy,” he murmured, curling his thumbs and kneading the back of her neck. “Just relax.”
    Bit by bit, her muscles unclenched and her breathing grew choppy.
    God, what was it about this woman? Touching her felt like more than just physical contact. There was a foundation to it. A soul-deep connection and communication that made every other intimate moment he’d had with other women seem cheap in comparison.
    She let her head fall forward, and a few loose tendrils fell forward with it. A moan of satisfaction vibrated beneath his palm.
    Slow and easy, he worked the lotion into her smooth skin. Relaxed movements meant to sooth and entice. He nudged her shoulder straps a little wider apart, and dipped his fingertips under them. “When’s the last time someone touched you, Janie?”
    The pool noise faded to nothing, but the soft, peaceful pattern of wind, waves, and birds seemed to thicken and amplify.
    A tiny shiver shook her. “A long time.”
    God, he’d like to fix that. Knock those damned swimsuit straps aside and cup her breasts. He’d bet anything she’d be twice as responsive sexually as she was when talking with him. “Humans weren’t meant to be without contact. Touch can cure things words can’t even get close to.”
    She peered at him over her shoulder. “Sometimes you say the most mature things.”
    One step past young man, at least. Probably best not to rush it, though. He liked the feel of her beneath his hands too much, all pliant and loose. No way was he screwing this up.
    “ Why boudoir shots?” she asked.
    He dragged his fingers up the sides of her torso, not so far as to touch the sides of her breasts, but enough to hint. “Because women are beautiful. Perfect creatures. Because there’s nothing more powerful than when they gift someone with their intimacy. I wanted to capture it. To help every client find their own unique beauty and save it for them so they could see it later.”
    She twisted. “And they made it ugly.”
    He dropped his hands. “And they made it ugly.”
    He stood, set the lotion on the table, and stretched out on his chair.
    “ Thank you.” Her voice barely registered against the water and the wind, but it was still enough to make his dick swell and take note. All raspy, low, and decadent. “That was nice.”
    “ You seem surprised.”
    “ No. Yes. I mean…” She wiggled and gripped the armrest. “It’s inappropriate. I’m too old for you.”
    Damn. Back to that again. “No you’re not.”
    “ You don’t even know how old we’re talking about.”
    “ It wouldn’t matter if I did. Age is a number. You’re a person. I find a lot about you attractive, and when a man finds a woman who appeals to him on many levels, he generally tries to find a way to get his hands on her.”
    “ I don’t think you understand.” She splayed her arms wide. “I’m forty. As in, old enough to be your