Hotel Indigo by Aubrey Parker Read Free Book Online Page B

blouse as if the buttons are burning. Now I feel embarrassed on top of everything else. Was I really just going to strip down in front of him, as if I were giving him some sort of a peep show? The thought causes my body to betray me. My breasts feel tight and covered in gooseflesh. My sensitive nipples have hardened.  
    I pick up the robe, and walk toward the bathroom without a word. Before closing the door, I glance back at Marco. He’s still standing there, broad as a billboard, arms crossed over his thick chest, tan skin dark against the white tee. My suitcase is beside him, still open. I’m suddenly sure that while I’m in the bathroom, he’s going to rifle through all my unmentionables.  
    I shut the door, my heart hammering as if I’ve just escaped a murder.  
    There’s a house phone by the tub. I pick it up and, without thinking, I dial the front desk.  
    “Front desk,” says Kendall’s voice.  
    I open my mouth to complain. I requested a woman, so why did they send me a man? I can’t tell him to leave now that he’s here, so why did they put me in the position where I have to let him stay or submit to letting him touch me all over?  
    “Hello?” Kendall repeats. Then, because she must be able to see which room is calling, she says, “Miss White?”  
    I hang up the phone.  
    I look in the mirror.  
    And, with my hands shaking, I take off my clothes for the man waiting outside.

CHAPTER NINE
    L UCY

    I COME OUT IN THE robe. I’m not sure how this is all supposed to work, because I haven’t had a massage in forever, and certainly not since I’ve been making enough money to have one this fancy. I’ve never had a massage this private. It’s always been me and the masseuse, of course, but we’ve never been in the place where I sleep and take baths. Never behind a locked door, all alone. And never with a man.  
    He saves me the indignity of having to ask. When I’m close enough to the table, he turns around and instructs me to get under the sheets. I think he’s supposed to actually leave the room (and come to think of it, that would have made sense instead of having me don a robe anyway), but he doesn’t offer and I don’t ask. So I quickly slip off the robe and dart between the table’s two sheets.  
    “Face up or face down?” I ask.
    “Face up.”  
    My back seems to want the massage more, but I don’t argue. I’ve already given up on relaxing. Now I just want this to be over.  
    “Are you ready?” he asks.
    “I’m ready.”  
    Marco turns around. He looks down at me. And then something strange happens.  
    He laughs.  
    “What?”  
    “Have you ever had a massage before?”  
    All of a sudden I’m not intimidated; I’m defensive. “Of course I have.”  
    “You could’ve fooled me.”  
    “Why? What the hell is so funny?”  
    I hear him rubbing oil onto his hands.“Nothing.”  
    He’s behind me. I can’t see him unless I look back. I can only see the ceiling, but then there’s a deep warmth sliding across my shoulders, lubricating me. His hands are large and strong.  
    “Relax.”  
    I’m annoyed by his laughing at me for reasons unknown, so I merely shuffle a bit.
    The hands move to the top of my shoulders and push down. “I said, ‘Relax.’”  
    “I am relaxed.”  
    “These don’t say so.” Meaning my shoulders.
    “I’m fine.”
    His hands move, but seem encumbered. Like it’s a half massage. “I can work around it,” he says.  
    “What?”  
    A finger hooks under the right strap of my bra. He lifts it a little and it snaps against my skin. “I’ve never had someone get a massage with a bra on before.”  
    “I didn’t know.” Then, because he’s hardly helping me feel at ease, I sharpen my tone. “You didn’t tell me.”  
    “Hey. To each her own.”  
    I say nothing.
    “If you’re that nervous …”  
    “It’s not that I’m nervous. Maybe I just didn’t want to take it off.”  
    “You didn’t let me