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This woman had got into his blood from the first moment.
‘Look how hard you are for me.’
‘Jasmine,’ he said in a strangled voice that made her chuckle. He closed his eyes and pushed his head back into the pillows. ‘You’re wicked.’
And, as if to prove him right, she licked him in a long stroke from base to tip. Desire exploded in his body and, when she took him into her wet, warm mouth, pleasure coiled in the base of his spine and stole his breath. He needed to look but was unprepared for the sight of his erection disappearing between her lips. No fantasy compared to this sight. To this feeling.
Emilio grabbed onto the covers, curling his hands into fists, seeking some relief from this onslaught of wicked pleasure. But then Jasmine took his hand and placed it on her head; he sunk his fingers into the soft curls, and was struck by the importance of this moment. Of course Emilio had done this with other women—it had come with his hard-partying lifestyle—but there had never been emotion in it. It had always been about the end. With Jasmine, he was willing to be vulnerable with her. To let her lead, and she trusted him enough to be at the mercy of his lust.
‘I have little incentive to trust.’
He fought for control then. Fought to honour that trust.
‘Let go, Emilio.’ Jasmine looked up at him, hazel eyes shining. ‘Let go with me. You’re safe with me. I want this.’
‘I…’
‘Let go,’ she urged, and then her mouth was back on him, giving him no choice, so he gave in. His hips bucked and she made a noise of approval that only made his passion burn brighter until his body was pulled taut for an eternal moment, before shattering into a release so powerful it robbed him of his vision. A sound that was entirely guttural, animalistic, leaving his lips.
And, before he could even open his eyes, he was pulling Jasmine up and kissing her deeply. He was irrevocably in love with her. He was immutably hers. Even if all she ever did was trust him this much, the truth of it would never change. Emilio had loved before without being loved back; he could do it again, because this time it was with the mother of his child, and simply being in her orbit was a privilege he couldn’t squander.
‘Non posso vivere senza di te,’he said softly. He knew she didn’t understand Italian, but he had to say the words, even if they were just for him:I can’t live without you.
But you don’t deserve her either.
That was true. He didn’t. But he had to hold onto her because she would leave…she would never choose him if she found out about Gia. He knew Jasmine wouldn’t forgive him for keeping a secret, but she also wouldn’t forgive the secret he kept. Not telling her was the lesser of the two evils. It would allow this paradise between them to live on, so he would take the risk. He would take the secret to his grave.
‘I have a question for you,’ he said.
‘What’s that?’
‘Have you ever been to Venezia?’ Emilio was aware that they would have to return to New York soon, but he wasn’t ready to let go of this dream just yet.
‘I haven’t been to any other part of Italy,’ she replied.
He could rectify that. ‘How would you like to go to a gallery opening tomorrow?’
‘I’d love that.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Emilio waited atthe foot of the staircase for his wife, impatiently waiting to see what she would step out in. If everything went to plan, this would be a night she wouldn’t forget soon.
Once they reached Venice, they’d be attending the opening of an art gallery. He’d wanted to surprise Jasmine with a breathtaking outfit of his choice but had realised that wouldn’t be respectful—not to the woman who’d single-handedly been responsible for the success of Style On Point. Instead he’d told her to pick out whatever she wanted from a personal shopper’s catalogue and that it would be paid for. She had fought him at first but then graciously accepted.
It wasn’t long before he heard her heels click-clacking towards him and he buttoned up the jacket of his black suit.
Jasmine appeared at the top of the stairs with a broad smile. Her hair pinned back. Her long neck emphasised by a pair of long, bold, black earrings. One shoulder bare, the other covered in a strap of black fabric. Her legs looked delectably long in the monochrome jumpsuit. Her wrists were adorned with black bracelets that glittered exactly as her earrings did. On her feet were strappy sandals with a shorter heel than he had seen her wear in New York.
‘Bellissima,’Emilio said.
‘Grazie.’She smiled. ‘Before you get too excited, that is the extent of my Italian.’
Emilio laughed. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so light. ‘I have plenty of time to teach you.’ He kissed her cheek and pulled away before either of them could succumb to temptation. ‘Ready?’
Jasmine nodded and he led her out to the grounds, where a helicopter stood on a private helipad. He helped her into her seat, working to tighten the belts until he was satisfied. Then, for the next hour and a half, he basked in the wonder on Jasmine’s face as she looked at Italy glittering in the darkness.
When they landed, he ushered Jasmine into a waiting runabout bobbing in the water, then smoothly navigated the canals, bringing them to a dock where a uniformed man moored the boat. During their short walk to the gallery, his hand never left the small of her back.