The Dreaming Of... Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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were worthy of his time, they’d overreached. Either way, he’d tended to lose interest long before they were done in the bedroom.
Jasmine Nichols made his senses jump without uttering a word. And when she did speak, he found himself held rapt.
In the last hour, the woman she’d revealed herself to be intrigued him even more. She’d experienced adversity of the worst kind, and come through it.
And with her hand on him and her parted lips so close, all he could see, smell, anticipate, was her.
Drawn into a web he couldn’t shake, he angled his head. ‘I don’t do fun, Jasmine.’
Her back arched, bringing her closer. Her mouth brushed his. He jerked at the zap of electricity. Her hands tightened around him. ‘Sure you do. You just don’t like to admit it.’
The sound that rumbled from inside him emerged harsh and bewildered. ‘Dios...’
He spiked his hand through her hair and kissed her. Hard. Roughly.
He palmed her breasts, gloried in their fullness, and swallowed her jagged gasp of pleasure when his thumb grazed her nipple. The sight and taste of them flashed through his mind. He squeezed the bud. Harder. She made a rougher sound. More demanding. More receptive.
His blood thrummed faster.
Capturing her waist, he pulled her into his body. Her hands drifted up from his torso, up to his shoulders. Every nerve yearned for closer contact. The ultimate contact.
He was fast reaching the point where he would be unable to deny the need to take, the need to reprise the headiness of their encounter in Rio.
Her mouth parted wider, her tongue caressing his. Reyes drove in, tasting her with deep, hungry kisses that robbed them both of breath.
His erection throbbed. Demanded satisfaction.
Dios, this was crazy. Making the same mistake twice was unconscionable. He needed to pull back.
But he couldn’t. His thumb angled her jaw and he claimed another kiss. He didn’t realise he’d bent her backwards until her elbows propped on the table to support herself.
Needing to breathe, he took a beat. Looked at her, spread before him like a banquet.
A tempting, forbidden banquet. He’d given in once and the resulting chaos still echoed through his life. Perhaps he understood her motivations a little now. Perhaps he would even contemplate forgiveness at some distant point in the future.
But he couldn’t revisit the eye of the storm.
Sucking in a deep breath, he stepped back, smashing down on his body’s insistence that he finish what he’d started.
He denied his body, denied his mind. It would’ve been easy to take what he wanted; what he craved. But he knew it would come at a price. A price he couldn’t afford to pay.
‘SO, JUST SO we’re clear, you want me to enquire whether she’s a good kisser, or should I go the whole hog and ask her if she’s dynamite in bed, too?’ Jasmine folded her arms and drummed her fingers against her elbows.
She knew her foul mood stemmed from the tossing and turning she’d done last night. And her triple vomiting session this morning. She knew why she’d tossed and turned. Just as she feared her suspicions on why she was throwing up would be confirmed, as soon as she found a way to visit a chemist. She wasn’t afraid to admit she was terrified of what the results of a pregnancy test would show. And not just for herself. She’d already thrown Reyes’s world into chaos once. How would he react if it turned out she was carrying his child?
She’d debated through the night whether to tell him of her suspicions, and had elected to wait. There was no point stirring the hornet’s nest even harder until she had concrete proof.
Feeling weak and more than a little apprehensive of what fate held in store for her, she’d have given her right arm not to perform the task of finding Reyes Navarre a bride.
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze coolly assessing. ‘The latter qualities I will discover for myself long before our wedding night. Once you’ve tackled the more important characteristics of loyalty, trust and dependability, of course.’
‘I’d never consider anyone who didn’t possess those qualities. But how on earth am I supposed to know whether she’s a good kisser or not?’
His eyebrow quirked and she had a feeling he was toying with her. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be good at your job?’
‘Brokering deals and calming anxious parties before multinational mergers, yes. Judging whether a woman is a good kisser based on her pedigree, not so much.’
‘So you’re admitting failure before you’ve even started?’ he asked.
She looked away, afraid he’d see the depth of the anguish she couldn’t will away, no matter how much she tried. ‘I’m not afraid to admit I’m not the right person for this job. We slept together, Reyes—’ she saw him tense, but she forced herself to continue ‘—and despite everything that happened afterwards, it wasn’t a casual thing for me. I can’t just brush it off...’ She stopped before she dug herself into a hole she’d never be able to emerge from.
‘Are you saying you can’t stay objective in this task?’
She forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘I’m saying I have feelings. I’ll do it if you want me to but I don’t have to like it.’
A look crossed his face, but his expression shuttered before she could read it. ‘Understood.’
Jasmine forced herself to glance down at the shortlist she’d compiled at four a.m. when she’d finally conceded sleep was a pipe dream. She rattled off the names, watching his face for a reaction. His features remained blank.
‘I’m going to call their representatives. Arrange for us to meet them in Paris next week. Shall I arrange to send your private jet for them or do you want them to fly commercial?’
‘I don’t micromanage. Liaise with my head of security on modes of transport. And we’re not flying to Paris next week. We’re leaving tomorrow, and then on to Santo Sierra at the end of the week.’ He slid his chair closer to his desk and opened a file.
‘What?’ Her heart thumped harder with a mixture of desolation and anxiety. ‘I’m good at my job, but I can’t find you a bride in twenty-four hours, Your Highness.’ Pressure built in her head with the knowledge that she needed to find out once and for all whether she carried his child.
‘Have you seen the news today?’ he enquired.
‘No. Should I have?’
His fists tightened on the desk for a moment before he relaxed. ‘There was a riot in San Domenica last night.’
‘Santo Sierra’s capital?’
He nodded. ‘Several people were hurt, including women and children, in the main square. Thankfully, no one was killed. My people are growing restless. Their anxiety is being fuelled, no doubt by Mendez’s people. I have to return soon or things will get worse.’
The throb of worry in his voice was unmistakeable. For the first time she accepted that his councillors were right. Santo Sierra needed a good news story to bolster the people’s confidence in its monarchy.
Caught in the quandary of having her feelings ravaged in the process of finding Reyes a wife, while suspecting she was carrying his child, and doing what she could to fix the damage she’d caused, Jasmine took a deep breath and gathered her composure.
‘I’ll make sure the candidates are in Paris for when we arrive.’ She picked up her tablet and headed for the door.
‘Jasmine?’