Hunting for Curves (BBW Erotic Romance) Read online

  Eventually, the rush of frantic emotions ebbed, and her breathing became easier. Like a salve, the manly smell of his shirt invaded her senses, soothing the acute pain in her chest. He was warm, comforting, and for once, his silence set her mind at ease.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "Don't be."

  He gently turned her, guiding her with one arm as they left her dead car and the melted yogurt behind. Her head remained against his shoulder as they walked and a light breeze chilled the wetness on her cheeks. Like a child, she let him take the lead as she stepped numbly across the dim parking lot. Through blurry eyes, she watched him open the passenger side door of an expensive-looking sedan. But she hardly noticed any other details as he revved the car into motion.

  The drive was not as long as it seemed. And Jasmine spent the entire time berating herself for her outburst. Evan had been a perfect gentleman, which made things worse for the roiling conflict of her thoughts. He was wealthy, stable, and in a committed relationship. He shouldn't be babysitting a failure like myself.

  But she remained silent as he pulled up to a multistory, beachfront house and an automated security gate opened wide. He parked next to dark, wide windows, the headlights shining briefly over the pale beach before he switched them off.

  The smell of the ocean was strong but not unpleasant and her feet scuffed over the sand-swept driveway. Under any other circumstances, she would have been floored by the location with the waves just a stone's throw away. Instead she blindly followed Evan up the steps and into the dimly lit front room.

  It was a large space, with tall vaulted ceilings and picture windows overlooking the dark night, where she heard the gentle rumble of waves crashing beyond.

  "Please," he urged as he flicked on more lights. "Have a seat."

  "Um…" She hid her red tear-streaked faced behind her hands.

  "Oh." He turned away with a courteous smile. "Third door on your left."

  Her shoes clicked on the tile flooring as she entered the bathroom. She didn't even look in the large round mirror as she splashed water over her skin. She knew her eyes would be irritated but at least she could get the ruined makeup off. Then maybe she wouldn't look like a total mess in front of him.

  "Would you like something to drink?" Evan called from the other room. "I opened a bottle of Chardonnay for myself."

  "That's fine," she called back as she rubbed a towel over her clean face. Then she groaned as she looked at her reflection. She looked so plain without the eyeliner or blush. And of course the redness in her eyes made her look homely. But there was nothing she could do. Maybe I can convince him to turn the lights off.

  With quick hands, she undid her braid and spread her hair out. Then she walked back into the room.

  Evan stood next to a short coffee table and a leather sofa as he poured wine into crystal stemware. He glanced up and a small smile played on his lips. It wasn't his usual grin, more heartfelt and soft. Maybe even a little sad. Oh great, Jasmine thought. Now he pities me. She wasn't sure how this could get any worse.

  He patiently waited for her to sit before he offered a glass. Then he retrieved one for himself and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

  Jasmine took a sip and her gaze swept over the room, lingering over the large pieces of contemporary art on the walls. "You have a really nice place."

  His eyes closed as he gave her a slow nod. "Thank you."

  On a tall table by the window, sat a white sculpture of a naked man posing with his head on his shoulder, his arm hanging down as if he were reaching for the ground.

  "That is a beautiful piece."

  "Luke gave that to me on our second anniversary. The artist was a friend of ours."

  She glanced at him and he returned a sad smile.

  "Lung cancer. He passed away over a year ago."

  "Oh. I'm sorry." She dropped her eyes.

  "Don't be." Evan sipped his wine. He tilted his head with a faraway look in his eyes. "He didn't want anyone to mourn him. He was a brilliant man who left his mark on the world in the time he had. We should all be so lucky."

  Without the faintest clue what to say, Jasmine raised her glass and took another drink. Maybe a little too fast. Her mouth was dry and the wine tickled on its way down. Leaning forward, she cupped her mouth as she tried to stifle the cough.

  Evan reached for a box of tissue on an end table next to him, and offered it to her with a concerned look on his face.

  She coughed once more into her hand, but she waved his gesture away as she regained control of herself. He probably thought she was going to start crying again.

  "Thank you, but I'm okay." She straightened and tried to compose herself on the couch. "I didn't mean to break down right in front of you, earlier." She swirled the drink in her hand. "It wasn't exactly how I wanted the night to end."

  He sighed. "I know."

  There was a melancholy edge to his voice and Jasmine didn't know how to respond. She looked down at the coffee table. What was she supposed to do? Tell him everything would be okay?

  She barely knew him. Not enough to offer any comfort or advice. And she was sure anything she said would sound trite, like the worst sort of greeting card clichés. What could she possibly say to a man like him anyway? She couldn't presume to know anything about his life, or his relationship. This was all so out of her league.

  "Are you sure you're all right?" Evan asked. "Or do you find architectural floor plans that fascinating?"

  Jasmine blinked. She'd been staring at the coffee table much too long, trying to compose her thoughts into something clever, or at least something that didn't sound forced. She hadn't even noticed the printouts in front of her. But she was grateful for the change of subject they offered.

  "Is this a new building?"

  Evan shook his head. "Remodeling the hotel. Starting with the ground floor next year." He leaned forward and tapped a finger thoughtfully on one of the pages. "It's in a prime location downtown but we're not taking advantage of that. The lobby looks like an overripe bank, and the meeting rooms on that level are an immense waste of space. Retail shops opening onto the street would be a better choice for foot traffic and for the vibrancy of the neighborhood. We'll also get the bar out of the basement."

  "Oh, that sounds like a huge project."

  She watched Evan's hand on the table before her gaze finally darted back up to him. He sat at the edge of the couch in a pose like Rodin's Thinker, brow furrowed as he studied the printouts. His words surprised her, but not because of his grand plans. Rather that he wanted to talk to her about this at all.

  "It is, but I've wanted to do this since I bought the place." Evan turned to her. "The hotel is too segmented from the local culture, but with the right changes, we could make it a destination instead of a very tall afterthought. Long term, I'd like to buy the building next door and turn that into a theater. But in the meantime, I'll be satisfied with an upscale wine bar with good lighting."

  "So no more peach martinis?"

  "We'll see. It's a long way off."

  Evan settled back into the couch and stretched his long legs. Jasmine took another sip of wine. Slower this time. Light had gleamed in his eyes when he spoke about his plans for the hotel, but now he seemed cool and collected again. He watched her with an indecipherable smile as he drained the last of his glass.

  "More?" He reached for the bottle.

  She extended her hand and let him top off her glass. For a moment, it felt like she was getting to know him. The man who Luke knew, not the careful image Evan liked to portray. With her courage buoyed by the alcohol, she tried again.

  "If you care about culture, like you said…" It's probably a stupid idea, she thought, her voice trailing off in a whisper.

  "I do. Go ahead."

  "Well…" She cleared her throat and took a long sip of wine, forcing herself to continue. "Have you considered putting smaller businesses in that retail space, instead of big chains? Like artisan wine and cheese, a local
coffee brewer, things like that…"

  Evan gave her a long, thoughtful look.

  "Forget it," she stammered. "Sorry. I didn't mean—I don't know anything about your business."

  "I hadn't thought that far ahead." He raised his hand to stop her from apologizing again. "No, it's a good idea. It would make the place unique, and local flavor could be a big hit with hotel guests. I think Luke would agree too. He likes standing up for the little guys."

  "You really think so?" She stared into her wine glass.

  "Yes. Don't underestimate yourself. I certainly don't."

  She let his words hang for a moment, then she sucked in her breath and took a gulp of wine for good measure. "Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me and I had a great time with you both but—" She leaned forward. "Why me?"

  He arched an eyebrow and took a slow sip before he spoke again. "Why not?"

  "I'm just an average girl who can barely pay the rent. You could have had your pick of anyone in that bar."

  A frown tugged at his mouth. "If I was seeking the company of a supermodel or a hooker, I would have just paid for it. But I'm not interested in that sort of thing." He straightened, bracing his elbows on his knees, so he looked directly into her eyes. And for a moment she was caught by the intensity of his ashen-blue stare.

  "Jasmine, you are far from average. I could tell that when I first saw you."

  She swallowed and took another drink, if for nothing else but to break the burning hold of his gaze.

  "You've never done anything like this before. I got that from the first night we were together." She looked up to face him again. "How can you know me so well? I mean, do you normally find women attractive?"

  "Truthfully?" There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "No. At least not in the conventional sense."

  "That's what I mean. How can you say that I'm special when you aren't even interested?"

  "Jasmine. You are an exception."

  "What does that even mean? I mean, am I just a game? Like a play toy for your lover?"

  Evan drank the last of his glass and set it down to refill it. Then he tilted the wine bottle over her glass.

  "That is a fair question." His eyes flicked to hers. "But, no. That is not what this is about. It might have started that way but it has evolved into something more."

  "What then?" She gave him a nod as the wine reached the rim.

  "This is not easy for me. I've been out as gay for the majority of my life." He set the bottle back down, next to his drink. "So I hope you can understand that it is difficult for me to admit that I find you attractive."

  "But you didn't even sleep with me."

  He cleared his throat. "I wanted to." A small chuckle jerked his chest. "God, I still want to."

  Her brows lowered as she leaned closer to him, trying to gauge if he was serious. "What about me is stopping you?"

  His forehead knitted as he stared back at her. And for a moment he looked different. The confidence left his eyes and his expression looked almost… pleading.

  "Nothing." He breathed. "Except my own fear of breaking something so beautiful."

  Jasmine wanted to ask what exactly he meant, but the question drifted away as time slowed to a crawl. Every heartbeat took seconds, then minutes. Thudding. Echoing. She focused on the smooth planes of his face as he drew closer.

  Evan's lips closed over her mouth and she fell into his arms. A distant alarm rang in the furthest reaches of her mind but it was soon forgotten as his tongue invaded her. He smelled like hot steel and clean sweat, mixed with leather and aftershave. And she drowned in the warmth of his body.

  Still locked in their kiss, he pulled her up to her feet, shrugged out of his coat and yanked the tie from his neck. Her hands braced against his firm chest as he bore down on her, urging her down the hall, his fingers rubbing her sides, gripping her ass through the thin fabric of her dress.

  Then he pulled the straps down her arms and she let the cloth drop to the ground. His breath blew hard against her cheek as their tongues wrestled, tasted, caressed in a locked battle of hunger.

  Her bare legs hit the bed and she sat heavily, breaking the embrace. His shirt was already open as he stared down at her. "I… I have to get the condoms out of the car." The color in his eyes was like molten sapphire.

  "Don't bother. I'm on the pill."

  He leaned forward and caught her mouth again, kissing her with all his might. At the edge of her awareness, she felt his belt loosing under her fingers, then she pulled his fly open. She quickly pushed his pants down and gripped his already-hard cock.

  "I want you," she mumbled around his lips. "Inside me."

  A growl rumbled up his chest and he kissed down her neck, biting and sucking on her tender skin. Then he freed his legs and crawled on top of her. He pulled her underwear aside, exposing her moist lips, before pressing the thick head of his cock to her opening.

  His length speared her and she gasped, arching her back at the sudden invasion. With strong hands he lifted her legs and braced his shoulders to the backs of her calves. She whined at him, pleading for him to continue. And he only waited a moment, as his eyes devoured her vulnerability.

  Then he pumped into her, his hips smacking her ass and the backs of her thighs. His long cock stretched her, drilling into the deepest part of her. She saw stars as electricity warmed through her nerves, building to an intoxicating crescendo.

  He latched onto her lip and pulled with his teeth, sending shivers of pain up her face. But she ignored it as the well in her heaved and waves of sinuous pleasure rolled through her body.

  His weight pinned her, slamming her crotch, bumping against a white-hot fire that burned brighter with each thrust.

  "Oh, God." Her eyes rolled back and she breathed out a long whimper as her nerves exploded with mind-numbing bliss around his pumping shaft.

  He gritted his teeth and blood rushed in his cheeks. Then he groaned, dropping his head to her chest as his back spasmed and his cock throbbed inside her. His hips continued to pump but his rhythm slowed.

  Her hand brushed through his messy blonde hair. She felt his seed, sticky between her legs but she didn't mind. At that moment she wanted to be his, even if it was only for a night.

  Her eyes flashed open as she heard a thump.

  Luke stood at the door, his duffle bag next to his feet. His jaw worked as if he were trying to speak. Light glittered in his wide eyes.

  "Luke!" Evan shouted as he quickly climbed off the bed. A dozen emotions flashed over his face. Despair. Anguish. Regret. None of them masked.

  "Don't—" Luke raised an arm and closed his mouth. Then he turned and stormed down the hall. A door slammed, rattling the pictures on the walls.

  Evan sat heavily on the bed, his elbows braced on his bare knees, his face cupped in his hands.

  Jasmine quietly pulled on her dress and gathered her shoes.

  "I can call you a taxi," Evan mumbled behind his fingers.

  "No need," she said softly. Then she stopped for a moment in front of him. Leaning close, she whispered, "I'm sorry," before planting a kiss on the top of his head.

  Outside, she spied Luke, leaning against a wall next to the stairs. He didn't look up as she gingerly stepped down to the gritty concrete. He kept his head down instead, as he took a long drag off a cigarette.

  But he doesn't smoke. The thought was distant, somewhere in the back of her mind. She watched him for a moment but he didn't make a move to acknowledge her. "Luke, I didn't m—"

  "Don't," he said in a low voice. Then he took another slow drag.

  She crossed the small street with her head low, standing at the edge of the beach. Her fingers shook as she scrolled on her phone, trying to find the number for a taxi.

  Luke made a scoffing sound and she looked up. His foot ground out the last of his smoke, his eyes closed, his shadowed lips tight under the streetlamp. With a decisive turn, he stomped up the steps and back into the house.

  The number flashed o
ver the screen and she hit the call button. Jarring music blasted over the speaker as her call went on hold. She held it at arm's length which made a strange, chaotic contrast to the gentle breeze and the crashing waves.

  Someone passed in front of the wide brightly-lit picture window. Luke. His fist was balled as he jerked his bent arm. Another figure. Evan. His open hand outstretched. Their lips moved, but at this distance she had no idea what they were saying.

  "Taxi, hello. What is your destination?"

  Luke leaned forward his jaw wide as if he were screaming. Evan shook his head and reached out.

  "Taxi! What is your destination, please?"

  Luke brushed Evan's hands away with a violent swing. The little porcelain statue teetered on the edge of the table next to him.

  "Hello?"

  Then it fell, disappearing from her view. The two men stared down at the floor for a brief moment before Luke brushed past as he headed into the hall. Evan remained by the window, his head down. Slowly he knelt down and lifted the shattered remains of what was once a beautiful piece of art.

  "Hello? Anyone there?"

  Chapter 5

  Jasmine blinked at the screen in front of her. The day had flown by as she typed furiously on the keyboard, evaluating her most recent project with an efficient, yet grim determination. It had been over a week since that night, when everything had fallen apart.

  Rodney had called her several times but she had let him speak to her voicemail. He sounded confused and hurt. But she wasn't ready to face him yet. Maybe she'd let him stew for a few more days before she let him know why she hadn't been speaking to him. Then maybe he'd be more faithful to her.

  Mary had also tried talking to her. It probably would have made Jasmine feel better to speak to someone about the whole ordeal. But she wasn't ready to forgive herself for what she'd done.

  She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she noticed the last bright purple flower on her desk plant had shriveled up.

  A frown tugged at her lips as she plucked the stem and tossed it into the trash. Maybe I'm meant for someone like Rodney. Then at least her own flaws would be masked by his shortcomings.