Chapter Ninety

One night with that female egomaniac and the impulse to call the only woman he really wanted had been too strong to deny. The sweet relief of hearing her simple yes-no scatty questions, no fluffing around, no irritating drama, just yes-had put a smile on his face for days afterwards. He just hoped she hadn't been reading more into this invitation than there was. A week with her was all he could fit in.

But what a week it was going to be!

Jasmine...his heart seemed to lift with the lovely rhythm of her name.

He was grinning as he towelled himself dry, the excitement of having her here, waiting for him in the next room, was like a fizzy cocktail running through his blood. He strode back to the bed. She hadn't stirred. The need to touch, to awaken an awareness of him would not wait. He lifted the sheet and slid his body down beside hers, propping himself up on one elbow, wanting to watch for the first flicker of her long eyelashes.

With featherlight fingertips he stroked the wavy hair away from her beautiful face. No make-up, he noticed. She needed none. The fine texture of her skin had no blemishes. Her lips, provocatively pouting in the relaxed stale of sleep, were a rosy-brown colour. And he knew her eyes had their own unique attraction that no artifice could improve upon.

He trailed his fingers down the soft curve of her cheek, then slowly traced her full lower lip. Her tongue licked out, instinctively seeking to reduce the sensitivity he'd aroused. A slight crease appeared between her eyes, disturbance at a subconscious level. He was smiling when her lashes lifted, a delicate shift then a sharp flick open, as though consciousness had come in a rash.

'Hi!' he said, happy to greet her into his life again.

'Hi!' she responded with a sigh that spread into a slow sensual smile, and he saw the amber irises warm to gold, welcoming him back into her life.

'Good of you to come.' he said.

'Good of you to ask me.' she replied.

He laughed, delighted by her laid-back attitude. 'An act of total selfishness, I'm afraid.'

'Oh, I don't know. Seems to me there's quite a bit of giving in it. The first-class seat on the flight was much appreciated. The limousine made me feel like a VIP . And this suite...' She gave him an anxious look. 'Please tell me it's some kind of perk related to your work.'

Her concern over the cost amused him. Other women he knew would take this for granted. 'Definitely a perk related to my work,' he assured her and it wasn't a complete lie. He was raking in millions from the film that was winning him awards-a percentage deal-and he could well afford this extravagance. Besides, the trappings of success was a power tool in Hollywood. He'd be inviting people here-business under the guise of parties.

'The penthouse suite,' she breathed in awe, rolling her eyes. 'I almost died when I was shown into it.'

'Is that why you're in bed?' he teased.

'I thought it had to be a dream and when I woke up...' She reached up and touched his face, 'This is real, isn't it?'

'It feels real to me.' He leaned over her, brushing her lips with his, tasting them with light flicks of his tongue. Her arms wound around his neck, inviting more reality, and Collins was only too ready to oblige, to reacquaint himself with the whole intensely desirable package of Jasmine Leclaire.

His hands skimmed her beautiful body with possessive eagerness as he deepened the kiss, igniting the passion that flared so quickly between them. Her breasts felt firmer than he'd remembered, her waist less emphatically indented. Probably carrying a bit more weight, he thought, and dismissed the minor physical changes, loving the feel of her anyway, the lush curves, the softness of her flesh, the silky smoothness of her skin.

It was so easy to immerse himself in her. She was instantly receptive, as hot for him as he was for her, shuddering with pleasure as he sank into her creamy depths, locking her legs around him to hold on to the intensely satisfying intimacy, kissing with a hunger that matched his.

Jasmine wanted it never to be over. All her worries had been replaced. There were no awkward kisses or clumsy motions. Everything had been replaced by this rush-a rush of sensations, feelings, of Collins sweeping her into this unfamiliar place where all she was was herself, a better self, an unguarded self, a woman in his arms. And he held her as he filled her, brought from her involuntary noises, and the bliss of him inside her was unsurpassed-until the next moment. For just as she accepted the sensation of Collins inside her things changed again. As he moved within her she felt swathed, wrapped, cosseted, and even at her most vulnerable, with him inside her, his skin sliding over hers, his breath harsh and ragged in her ear, even as he took her to a new, dangerous and unfamiliar place, she felt absolutely secure.

Her thighs ached, her stomach pulled tight, and his cheek was next to hers. All she could hear was his breath as he moved slowly, and though there was no yardstick for her to measure by, there was a need now in Jasmine for Collins to move faster, for him to match the sudden urgency of her body. She felt her hips rising in demand, yet he refused to relent-if anything he moved slower, deeper, as her body pleaded for him to join her.

Like a kiss to thin air she said his name, pleading when she had never had to beg before. Jasmine hardly recognised her own voice, this sob, this whimper from usually assured lips, but she cried out as a rush of heat flared through her body. Her hands dug into his back as she demanded that he join her, and yet he did not, even as she gave in and shuddered beneath him. Her cries went unmatched; he was seemingly impervious to the writhing of her body, and still he moved within...