Cameron knew what he was about to say would change their fragile relationship forever. “If I come in, it’s not for coffee.”
Jasmine blinked slowly as if coming out of a trance. “What is it you want?” Her voice had dropped an octave.
“I want to make love to you.”
He had said what he’d felt the first time he saw Jasmine at DuPont House. The physical pull had been so strong that he thought he’d imagined it. It was the only time he could remember that he’d wanted to make love to a woman after a single glance. And over the months since he’d introduced himself to her at the wedding reception, images of her face would pop into his head at the most inopportune times. It was as if he had total recall when he remembered the timbre of her beautiful voice, the scent of her perfume, and the way the light from the chandeliers reflected off her satiny golden-brown skin.
Cameron had told himself over and over he was intrigued with Jasmine because she looked nothing like the women he had dated. Yet his instincts communicated it wasn’t only her physical appearance that held him enthralled but her maturity and sophistication. And once she revealed her relationship with a much older man he knew from where she had cultivated the maturity.
* * *
Jasmine extended her hand to Cameron. “Please come in and stay.” He had made it easy for her not to beg him to make love to her. She’d spent days since sharing dinner with him telling herself that there was no way she was going to sleep with Cameron, but he had proven her wrong. Each time she encountered his longing stares, or the gentle touch of his hands on her body she knew she could not remain unaffected. When they’d shared their first dance on the boat she’d believed she was going to pass out from the swirling passion threatening to swallow her whole. Cameron wanted to know what she was doing to him; well, she had the same question. It had taken less than a week for him to scale and break down the wall she had put up to keep all men out of her life and bed.
She didn’t know what road her life would take once she slept with Cameron because in that instant she was past caring. They could continue to be friends with benefits or revert to friends until after she completed decorating his new home.
Cameron’s impassive expression did not change when he walked into the entryway. He closed and locked the door behind him. “I have protection with me,” he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing several condoms.
Jasmine giggled like a little girl. She opened her evening purse and took out the condoms she had taken from the yacht’s restroom. “I beat you to it.”
Shrugging out of his jacket, Cameron placed it over the back of the chair. “So, you’d planned to seduce me?” he teased.
“No,” she said innocently. “I’d planned for you to seduce me so you wouldn’t brag to your buddies that I jumped your bones first.”
His expression changed, becoming a mask of stone. “I never kiss and tell. Whatever we do or share stays between us.”
Jasmine felt properly chastised. No matter how much someone badgered Gregory about his relationship with her, he refused to reveal anything beyond she was his protégée, and let them draw their own conclusions as to why he was always seen at public events with a much younger woman. “I agree. I’m going to give you a toothbrush and towels if you want to shower. You’ll find a supply of toiletries in the vanity drawer if you need them.”
“Thank you.”
She went into the bathroom and selected a cellophane-wrapped toothbrush from a supply she kept for overnight guests. Opening a narrow closet, she took out towels and an oversized bathrobe from a stack. Her aunt had ordered bathrobes for B & B guests who’d forgotten theirs, but when the supplier shipped monogrammed seersucker robes rather than terrycloth, Jasmine had become the recipient of nearly a dozen bathrobes in various sizes.
Jasmine emerged from the bathroom to find Cameron sitting on the chair. “You can use this bathroom. I’m going to use the one in my bedroom because I need to take off my makeup.”
* * *
Cameron stared at the gentle sway of her hips in the red dress until she disappeared from his line of sight, and then emptied his pockets. He placed the condoms, a small leather case with his driver’s license and several credits cards, on the table. A money clip followed, and then the keycard to his hotel room. He undressed, leaving his clothes folded neatly on the chair, and walked into the bathroom.
He brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth with mouthwash, before walking into the open shower with an oversized showerhead. The warm water sluicing over his head and body revived him as he shampooed his hair from the bottle on a shelf in the shower.
Jasmine had mentioned her friends occasionally slept over and it was apparent she was the perfect hostess because she had items on hand one would request at a hotel. His masculine pride had increased tenfold when a few of his frat brothers complimented him about his date. Several went so far as to say his taste was definitely improving and they were waiting for him to send them invitations to his wedding. Cameron had remained mute to that comment because even if he changed his stance when it came to marriage, Jasmine was adamant about not marrying again. Both were mature adults who were in control of their lives, and they had made it known to each other that their futures did not include marriage.
Cameron left the bathroom, retrieved the condoms, pushing them into the pocket of the robe, and walked in the direction of Jasmine’s bedroom. The first time he’d come to her home she hadn’t shown him her bedroom, and he surmised that it was her sanctuary and one had to be invited in. She had also confirmed that she had redecorated the entire apartment, which meant she wanted to rid herself of everything that had reminded her of her ex.
He slowly entered the bedroom, his eyes taking in everything with a single glance. Seeing the four-poster antique spindle bed draped in a sheer white fabric told him Jasmine was a romantic. Candles in various colors and sizes competed for space on the table in the sitting area. A club chair, covered in pale-blue watered silk, a woven basket filled with magazines, and another with books indicated the area where she spent her time reading. His gaze went back the queen-size bed covered with what appeared to be antique white and off-white linens.
Walking over to the window, he closed the lined drapes to shut out the brilliant sunlight flooding the bedroom that contained a wall-mounted television, mahogany armoire, and matching dresser and chest of drawers. He sat down on the chair to wait for her to emerge from the en suite bathroom.
He didn’t have long to wait when she walked into the bedroom wearing a delicate pale-blue nightgown ending at her knees. Cameron rose to his feet, unable to pull his eyes away from the damp hair falling around her face. He closed the distance between them and cradled her face.
Staring down into the dark-brown eyes looking up at him, he saw a glimpse of indecision and Cameron wondered if she was experiencing some apprehension about agreeing to let him make love to her. “What is it, darling?”
Jasmine’s lower lip trembled slightly before she pulled it between her teeth. “Nothing,” she mumbled.
Cameron shook his head. “Tell me if you really want me to make love to you? If not, then we’ll get into bed together and go to sleep.”
She released her lip. “No. What I mean is I want us to make love.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
