Theos, he had looked forward to that bachelor party for months.
But the weekend in Monaco had turned out to be torturously boring for him, his mind pushing the picture of Jasmine sleeping so peacefully in his bedroom, to the fore.
There was something utterly satisfying about keeping her safe. And after his failure to save his mother, he didn’t misunderstand where the feeling came from, either. But even then...
The sight of a woman had never transfixed him like that.
Like a treasure that called to seamen, luring them, her stunning face had come to him in the strangest of moments, stealing away whatever satisfaction the moment would have presented.
So here he was, his usually uncaring mood roused to a temper, his libido unsatisfied, while the confounding woman’s presence in his life spread as if it was a stubborn virus.
The picture she presented, everything covered up from top to bottom, shouldn’t have snagged his attention at all.
Her jeans, while obviously worn out and of cheap quality, were snug and tight, encasing her long, long legs like a glove.
He had received an eyeful of her mouthwateringly pert bottom while she had knelt in the seat and tugged viciously at the poor, unsuspecting seat belt, not realizing that all she had to do was to click on the latch for it to pull.
And then there was the real culprit that sent a simmering awareness through his blood for the sheer intimacy of it.
His pristine white, custom-made Armani dress shirt that she wore.
He was bulkier and broader and she was thin, waiflike... The shirt should have looked like a bag on her scrawny build.
The shoulder seam fell to her upper arms, while she had rolled up the sleeves. Tucked into those tight jeans, it billowed over her torso. But with the outline of her black bra visible through the thin cotton, the wide collar flashing peeks at golden honeyed skin every time she moved, it was the most erotically feminine thing he had ever seen.
Never had a woman so thoroughly covered up fired his curiosity to such depths.
She made his shirt her own in such a sexy way that he wanted to rip it off her, press his mouth to that silk-like skin, so that he could discover, for himself and for her, what lay beneath.
Theos, he was turning rock hard and he hadn’t even touched her...
No other woman in the world had ever baffled Dmitri like her; no other woman shook his compass in such a shattering way.
Despite everything, there was an inner strength to Jasmine that scorched him every time he looked into her eyes. Add to that, that instant charge whenever she looked at him out of those big black eyes.
“Is your mother well?” he said, choosing a topic that would surely defuse that charge.
A line of tension immediately bunched her shoulders tight before she slowly turned toward him. Her mouth closed on the bottle as she took a long sip. His blood rushed south as a picture of that saucy mouth wrapped around him came forth...
He pressed his fingers to his temple, searching for a shred of decency.
“As fine as she can be.” She screwed the cap back slowly. “Even Andrew’s death changed nothing for her.”
The bitterness in her tone took him aback first. Then it cycled to guilt and frustration.
He should have gone back for her after Andrew’s death, shouldn’t have walked away just because of his past failures. He knew, firsthand, the price a child paid for a parent’s destructive addiction. Even if her mother’s alcoholism had resulted in neglect of her children and not something much worse. A cold chill climbed up his spine. “Does she still—”
“Drink like a fish and then spiral into pitiful sobs remembering Andrew’s dad and then mine in that order? Yep... The worst are the stories about me turning into some Arab princess overnight when my father comes back for her after all these years. Thinks it’s going to be Princess Diaries—Jasmine-style.”
Her smile too wide, the glitter in her eyes too bright, she looked as if she would break with a gentle tap. Tenderness like he had never known engulfed Dmitri. He didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know how to stop feeling it.
He had no words of comfort to offer. “Do you want me to look for him?”
Shock widened her eyes. “My father?”
He nodded. “It might not be that hard now that—”
“He spun stories, used her for a year and skipped town the moment she told him she was pregnant. She was nothing but a convenient mistress for a visiting diplomat. He had twenty-four years to change his mind. I don’t need another parent who looks at me as if I was the reason their life took a miserable turn.”
“Then, why did you go to see her again?” Frustration mounted inside him. “Why were you running around all evening loading up groceries, cleaning up?”
She frowned. “I haven’t checked on her in a week.”
“How much did you end up giving her this time?”
Her neck moved this way and that, that ugly knot at the back of her head making his fingers itch with the urge to unravel it. She was stalling, he knew.
That run-down flat was in a dilapidated part of the city; the empty bottles she carried out, the way she had almost cringed into herself in the darkness... Image after image flashed in front of his eyes... Theos, how did you protect someone from their own naïveté?
Suddenly, he had newfound respect for what Stavros went through with Leah.
Studying her neatly trimmed nails, she cleared her throat. “You’re making too much of...”
“How much, Jas?”
It felt as if a vein would burst in his temple, as if his very life was shifting in front of his eyes.
He hadn’t meant to shout. He hadn’t meant to get so angry. He hadn’t meant to spend every waking minute thinking of the infuriating woman or wanting to wring her neck. Or kiss her senseless.
“Just a little...” She swallowed when he continued to glare at her. “Okay, fine, most of what I saved. Her rent was overdue by two months and she had—”
His filthy curse rang around the cabin, but did nothing to alleviate his frustration.
Jasmine looked at him with wide eyes, more alert than shocked at his outburst.
“So all of the seven thousand pounds you were boasting about? No wonder you weren’t making any dent in—”
“Yes, okay. I have done this before.”
He shot up from his seat, like a wild animal that had forced itself to be peaceful until now. That was what always made her curious.
That carefree, reckless, unemotional demeanor he put on—that wasn’t the natural state for Dmitri.
His jeans outlined those powerful thighs and tight butt, his gray shirt molding to the hard planes of his lean stomach. It was impossible to be in the same room as him and not be aware of his every breath, every movement.
Before she could blink, he was bending over her seat, his breath whispering against her cheek.
Every inch of her uncoiled at the latent power of his body caging her against the seat. Heat from his lean frame stroked her, and she gripped the leather seat tight. “You do know that she will just drink all your hard-earned cash, don’t you?”
She nodded, mesmerized by the molten depths of his eyes.
“Then, it hasn’t sunk into that stubborn skull of yours that she’s only manipulating you? That she will suck the blood out of you but not stop? That you’re nothing but a crutch that she’ll use for the rest of your life?”
“She’s still my bloody mother.” She was shouting now, her eyes filling with furious tears. “Would you rather I walk away like you did, wash my hands off, turn away from that dirty world? Pretend as though I never came from there in the first place, as if I never had a weakness or a flaw to begin with? Spend the rest of my life pursuing mindless pleasure in every corner of the world as if it was my due?”
A flicker of something molten flashed in his eyes, a flinch to his mouth.
She had surely angered him now. But instead of fear, she felt only exhilaration. As if the blood pounded harder in her veins.
He dipped his head even lower, bringing his mouth so close to hers. God, all she had to do was tilt her chin up and her lips would graze his. She would finally know how he tasted; she would know what she had already imagined a thousand times over.
Just one taste, that was all she wanted of this man who set her senses aflame without even trying.
“So whatever little you had to pay me back is gone now, ne?” he finally said in a silkily dangerous voice.
It made her feel oddly hollow, weightless.
“What happened to your pride, Jas? What happened to paying me back even if it killed you? What happened to not depending on me for anything ever again?” His thumb traced her lower lip, as if he was testing the shape and softness of it.
It was not affectionate or tender...and yet, the ache between her legs was long, low and instantaneous.
Instead of slamming his hand away, she froze.
“You don’t have a job. You donated your meager savings because you’re weak enough to still want to matter to her.” He traced the seam of her collar with a long finger, and her skin tingled as if he had drawn a line of fire down her throat. “Even the shirt you’re wearing is mine.” Her heart threatened to rip out of her chest as he scrunched the fabric with one hand and pulled her forward.
He whispered the words against the corner of her mouth. “How exactly do you think you’re going to pay me back now that you’re penniless?”