Page 43 of Pleasure Games

“You are beautiful.”

It was such a simple statement. And yet the huskiness of his voice suggested he wanted to tear the fabric from her body and finish what they’d started in the bathroom.

How would he do it? How would he make her come? With his hands? His mouth?

Oh, please. Let it be with his mouth.

He’d already begun preparing a meal, and while Jasmine wanted to help—she was no slouch in the kitchen—he seemed to have things completely under control. Actually, that summed him up. Luca was a man who liked to be in control of situations. Even when he was ripping along at inhuman speeds on the motorcycle, Jasmine had known intrinsically that Luca was in complete control.

Supper was a thick, fluffy omelet with bits of cured meat, cheese and fresh herbs. To accompany it, Luca had opened a bottle of wine, a light white, that was absolutely delicious. They ate on the terrace as the sun began to set. Jasmine was ravenous. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“So,” Luca said, his wine glass in hand, his eyes hooded. “Before I...” He paused. A subtle smile touched his lips as if he was thinking something irreverent—what was it?—then he changed the subject. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“Before I tell you any more about myself, it’s your turn to tell me a little bit about you.”

Luca’s posture changed from open and alluring to rigid and guarded. “There is not much to tell.”

“Who are you running from?”

She didn’t think he was going to answer. He stared out at the horizon and drank. Finally, he said, “I had an altercation with the police a few weeks ago.”

“Are you a fugitive?”

He shrugged. “Depends on your definition.”

So...she was aiding and abetting an outlaw. That thought should have terrified her. Instead, a thrill raced through her, not unlike the thrill she’d experienced on the back of his motorcycle. That, combined with the lingering arousal from the shower and the desire that Luca’s mere presence elicited, meant Jasmine had never felt more alive.

“What do you do? For work?” She paused. “Or...do you work?”

He regarded her carefully as if weighing what to say. Finally he said, “I used to race motorcycles. But I don’t anymore.”

“So now you...?”

“I am on vacation from my job.” He lifted the glass of wine. “I work for a vintner.”

So that was why he knew so much about the vines in the vineyard.

“And now your turn. What do you do, when you aren’t visiting Paris, losing your belongings and finding yourself concussed on a street corner?”

“You make me sound like a prostitute.”

He cocked his head to one side and Jasmine couldn’t decide if she should be offended or not.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was not an insult.”

He’d read her mind. Or perhaps he’d simply read her body language. Either way, it felt good to be read so easily by him. Like he was actually paying attention to her.

Luca refilled her glass. “Do you want to know what I think?” he asked.

“I don’t know, do I?”

He set his wine glass down and reached across the table to caress the back of her hand. “I think you came to Paris looking for something.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because if given the choice between a planned vacation and a...hideout in the French countryside, most people would choose the former.”

“Maybe.”

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