Page 18 of Pleasure Games

Jasmine’s back was to him—her bare back.

Merde...

Her spine swayed gracefully and there were two delightful little dimples at the top of her buttocks. Her skin was a flawless caramel color, a contrast to the dark hair that cascaded in waves between her shoulder blades. Her ass was...

Jesus, her ass...

Clenching his fists, Luca turned away from the barely opened door. What the hell was he doing? Now he was a fucking voyeur? This woman’s mere presence was trouble enough. The last thing he needed to be doing was ogling her through a semiclosed door. He certainly did not need to be entertaining thoughts of running his finger down the indent of her backbone, dipping into one dimple and then the other and cupping the glorious globes of her ass in each of his hands.

Squeezing before exploring...

Enough!

With a strengthened resolve, he knocked on the wall beside the partly open door. “Mademoiselle?”

“Yes?” Her voice sounded startled. And hopeful.

What the fuck?

“I’ve left some clothes for you in the bedroom. I can launder your clothes tonight so they are clean for tomorrow. Just leave them on the bed.”

“Oh.” Her voice sounded breathless. “Thank you.”

Luca marched down the hall without another word. He needed to focus his attention on tasks like preparing the fish for dinner. Unfortunately, his body wasn’t exactly cooperating.

It’s been a long time, Luca...and that ass...

“Silencieux!”he muttered to himself.

There was no way he would get involved with an amnesiac, concussed tourist. Honestly. It was a bad idea all around. No matter how much his libido thought differently.

Twenty minutes later, when the fish was warming in the oven, he glanced down the hall with a hint of worry. Should he check on her? What if she’d ignored his recommendation and had filled the tub with water, then fallen asleep or passed out and drowned.

Shit.

He hurried down the hall and was just about to push open the door when Jasmine came out wearing nothing but a towel. The scent of his own shampoo wafted about her and he was forced to squash the insane desire to bury his nose in her hair and breathe her in.

Before tugging the towel from her body and tasting that warm skin.

“Hi.” The woman’s eyes were wide and gorgeous, and appeared much more innocent, sans makeup. That should have quieted his libido.

It did not. Quite the opposite.

He purposefully took a step back, tipped his head and said, “Dinner is ready. I hope you like fish.”

He didn’t wait for a response but simply spun around and made his way back to the kitchen where he poured himself a large glass of wine and drank most of it before Jasmine made her appearance.

Jesus.

If he’d thought she looked good enough to eat wearing nothing but a towel and the scent of his soap, he was mistaken. The sight of her in his too-big clothes was—fuck—an instant and immediate turn-on.

“Whatever it is, it smells wonderful,” she said, softly. Shyly.

Seriously, she was killing him.

“It’s sole meunière. Very simple. Just fish, lemon, butter and parsley. Oh, and potatoes.”

She sat down at the counter and shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

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