Yasmine shook her head. “But I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon. Every time we try we end up arguing or in …” Yasmine stopped, thinking of last night. He’d come home from working and without a word taken her by the hand and led her to his bedroom, and they hadn’t come back out for the rest of the night.
Lilly cleared her throat and Yasmine’s blush heated her entire face. “I know you have a lot of decisions weighing heavy on you. And with your talents and ambition, the world is yours, baby. And whatever you decide to do, both in your career and your personal life, I’ll be here for you.”
Yasmine laid her head against her aunt’s shoulder and sighed.
Lilly was right. Whether she and Holt ended up together, or simply enjoyed each other for as long as they had, the time was long overdue for the two of them to talk.
Chapter 16
“Aunt Lilly, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t need anything?” Yasmine asked as she busied herself, bustling around her aunt’s hospital room, plumping her pillows. Again. For the fourth time.
“Like I told you the last five times, I’m fine! Now go!” Lilly moved away just in time before Yasmine smacked her with a pillow with her energetic plumping.
Seeing she’d barely missed her aunt’s face, she grimaced. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled. When Lilly raised a brow, she sheepishly placed the pillow next to her on the narrow bed.
Yasmine focused her attention on Lilly, watching as she situated herself in the bed.
It was early evening, and Lilly had woken from the anesthesia hours ago, with no complications.
The surgery had gone as predicted, smoothly, and her recovery was already well under way. Instead of the typical knee-joint replacement surgery, Lilly had had a less invasive approach, one that promised to lessen the pain of recovery as well as the length of the incision site, which meant less scar tissue for her as she recovered.
However, although Sheridan Memorial was one of the top orthopedic hospitals around, there hadn’t been a doctor on staff to perform the new technique, so the brothers had, at their own expense, flown the specialist in.
Although the surgeon was one of the best in his field, Yasmine had been a mass of nerves as she’d sat in the waiting room with Holt, holding his hand tightly. He’d only occasionally left her side, to get coffee, but quickly.
Not until the attending physician had come to the waiting room to tell them of the surgery’s success had Yasmine finally relaxed. As they wheeled Lilly into her private room, groggy from the sedation, Yasmine and Holt had been there, waiting.
“Can we get you anything else, Lilly … or do you just want to rest?” Holt broke in, coming to stand by Lilly’s bedside.
“I’m fine. You two have done more than enough,” she murmured, her voice growing noticeably lower. She waved a weak hand toward Yasmine as she lay back against her pillow. “Take my niece and you two go on back to the hotel. She looks as rough as I feel.”
The last words were barely coherent, and Yasmine knew the morphine drip was starting to take its effect.
Within a minute of her speaking, her head rolled to the side, and moments later she was softly snoring.
Yasmine turned to Holt. “You go on back to the hotel. I’ll just sit here and wait for her to wake up,” she said softly, not wanting to wake Lilly. Although with the amount of pain medication and sedatives being pumped into her system, that and the distinct smile of contentment on her face as she fell into sleep, Yasmine doubted anything could wake her aunt at that point.
She ran a hand over Lilly’s hair. She’d been so worried.
She felt Holt’s hand on her shoulder and she turned toward him.
“Come on, baby. Let her get some sleep. And she was right, you look just as tired as she does,” he admonished, tugging at her until she reluctantly moved away.
“I believe she said I looked rough.”
Holt leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her mouth. “You couldn’t look rough on your worst day,” he murmured against her mouth, and Yasmine leaned into his embrace.
The nurse walked into the room at that moment and informed them that visiting hours were over.
“Guess that’s our cue.” With that, Holt gently herded Yasmine out of the room. When she stopped once more to look back at her softly dozing aunt, he placed his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll be back early tomorrow. This way both you and Lilly will be rested. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
With a nod, she allowed him to lead her away.
They’d arrived in Sheridan early Friday morning, and before going to check in at the hospital had gone to Lilly’s preoperative surgery appointment. After filling out all the necessary documents, they’d left after Yasmine had all of her questions answered to her satisfaction.
While her aunt seemed to not show any visible signs of worry about the surgery, Yasmine had been a mass of nerves. And now she was simply glad that it was over.
Lilly had stayed in the hospital that first night, due to the early-morning schedule, and the administrative staff had allowed Yasmine to stay with her. Although Holt had booked two rooms, neither she nor Lilly had used them.
Now, as they were heading back to the hotel, she wondered if he expected her to stay with him in his room, or if he had kept the arrangements the same.
The decision was taken from her when they arrived. Going to the room she and her aunt were supposed to share, she paused at the door, turning to him. “I’ll meet you downstairs for dinner later. I think I’m going to go and get some sleep.”
“I had your things, as well as Lilly’s, moved to my room.”
“Why did you do that?”
“When Lilly gets out of the hospital, we’ll head back to the ranch. No need for two rooms.”
She didn’t bother with the argument that she still needed a room; it was obvious he’d already made the decision that she’d be staying with him.
“I hope you have two beds.”
Yasmine ignored his responding low, throaty laugh.
Holt walked behind Yasmine after opening the door to the room, allowing her to enter first, his eyes trained on the sexy sway of her hips as she strode into the room.
For all that he wanted to pick her up and throw her on the bed and make love to her, the look in her eyes told him that she wasn’t ready for that.
He saw her look toward the single king-size bed before her glance shifted to his, the look in her eyes wary, affirming his belief. Although they’d made love again after their first night, her uncertainty showed.
Wanting to put her at ease, he casually nodded toward the bathroom. “Why don’t you go and take a nice hot shower. I’m sure it’ll help relax you. While you’re doing that, I’ll go downstairs and scout out the best restaurants in the area. You’ve got to be hungry,” he half asked, and at her nod and hesitant smile, he continued. “Good. I’ll find out the where the nearest place is. Sound good?” A relieved smiled lit her face, the dimple in her cheek flashing.
“Why don’t you meet me downstairs in, say, oh, thirty minutes?” he asked, and she nodded her head in agreement. Turning to leave, he hesitated at the door, his hand on the knob, and turned back around to face her.
“Yasmine, you don’t have anything to worry about, with Lilly. She’s going to be fine.”
“I know,” she said softly. “And thank you for bringing us here. Thank you all for the special care you’ve made sure Aunt Lilly has. I—” She bit her lip, tugging the full rim into her mouth, and Holt had to close his eyes against the fragile picture she presented, and the way it made him feel.
The way she made him feel.
No woman had ever had the ability to do to him with just one look what Yasmine could.
Although tired shadows underscored her eyes, making them appear larger than they were, and her clothes were wrinkled, all traces of makeup gone from her face, she looked more beautiful to him than any one of the scores of models, actresses and socialites he’d da
ted in the past.
As they stared at each other from across the room, an invisible thread of need, want, desire … and something more, connected them, making it impossible for Holt to look away, to walk the hell away while his intentions remained good. He saw the minute she felt the wild need in him to have her. Her eyes widened, and her chest rose and fell swiftly. But it was her eyes … in her eyes was an answering need, just as wild, mirrored in their dark depths.
They didn’t speak; they didn’t have to.
“Holt.” She whispered his name, her hand coming out in entreaty before dropping at her side.
He drew in a ragged breath. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes,” he said gruffly, and turned to walk out of the door.
Yasmine lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, before finally she gave up on sleep.
Glancing at the illuminated numbers on the bedside alarm clock, she blew out a breath in disgust.
It was almost midnight and she was as wide-awake as though she’d had a full night’s sleep.
She turned, restless in bed, and grabbed the pillow near her, hugging it close against her chest.
Dinner with Holt had come as a complete surprise. Not sure what to expect after his heavy-handed way of putting them in the same room, as well as the sexual tension between them so thick she could cut it with a knife, she’d been on edge, nervous, yet a part of her was filled with anticipation, wondering what would happen after dinner.
The conversation between them had flowed easily, reminding her of their time when he’d picked her up from the airport. The topics had ranged from their childhood to adulthood, favorite movies and books.
When she sheepishly admitted to being addicted to one of her favorite vampire series on HBO, the two had gone on to argue which character they thought would die by the end of the season and which would finally get what was coming his way.
During the ride up in the elevator, the sexual tension returned, and Yasmine’s nerves were on edge. Not because she was afraid of what he’d try, but because she was looking forward to whatever he had in store for her.
When they’d entered the room she’d turned toward him.
“Come here,” he said, his voice pitched low.
Yasmine walked toward him, meeting him in the middle of the room.
Holt reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her flush against him. Her breath caught when she felt the hard length of his cock press insistently against her stomach.
“You look beat. Why don’t you get some rest?” he said, pulling away from her, running his eyes over her face. “I’m going to head back down to the bar and grab a couple of beers, maybe catch the game. I’ll be quiet when I come back up, you won’t even know I’m here,” he promised, and with a kiss on her forehead left her with her mouth hanging open, wondering what in the world had just happened.
Going downstairs to have a beer and watch a football game?
Her brow furrowed in the dark. She was by no means what you would call a sports enthusiast, but even she knew football season hadn’t started, she thought, her confusion growing. She’d definitely given him enough signals over dinner that she was … interested in a repeat of what they’d shared.
So what happened? What did she do?
Maybe he’d already gotten tired of her and was ready to move on to the next conquest.
She turned over in bed, irritated, confused … and horny, and hugged the pillow even tighter as she mentally counted sheep, dogs, cats … whatever, in an attempt to force the mindlessness that came with sleep to overtake her and force her to stop thinking of Holt.
Holt eased inside the room, quietly closing the door behind him. The room was quiet and completely dark, and as he made his way farther in, he glanced toward the bed. Not wanting to wake Yasmine, he sat down in the chair and eased off his shoes and socks, leaving his feet bare, then walked over to where she lay.
In the dark he could barely make out her form as she lay on her side, tightly hugging the pillow close to her body. She’d kicked off the sheet so that it only covered one half of her body. Her pretty rear end was raised, the ends of her silky-looking gown just barely covering her round, plush bottom. She moved, shifting the sheet away even more, exposing even more.
Reaching out a hand, he went to touch her and drew back when she softly snored, snorted and shoved her face deeper into the pillow.
So much for her waiting up for him, he thought with an inner sigh.
It was his own damn fault.
He forced himself to move away from the temptation she presented and went into the bathroom instead. He closed the door, shed his clothes and turned on the shower.
The room he’d chosen was a large suite, and the bathroom was located far enough from the bedroom area that he knew the sound wouldn’t wake her.
He stepped inside the shower and immediately turned his face into the stinging spray.
It had been pure hell leaving her earlier. And he knew that it wouldn’t have taken much persuasion for him to have her naked and under his body, calling his name as he stroked deep inside her, giving them both what they wanted, what they needed.
The memory of how good she felt wrapped around him, the way her walls clung to him perfectly, the way she moved her hips until neither one of them could walk the next day.
But she’d looked so damn vulnerable, the strain of the day showing on her face.
He grabbed the bar of soap and quickly lathered it over his body, thinking he should have turned the water to cold, anything to make the images of her and what he wanted to do to her sinfully delicious body go the hell away.
Chapter 17
Yasmine woke up out of a light sleep when she heard the shower come on.
She turned toward the clock again, and saw that somehow she must have managed to get some sleep, the illuminated numbers telling her it was almost 1:00 a.m.
She plopped back down on the bed, lost in thought.
Her sleep had been fractured at best, as even in her dreams Holt refused to go away.
She could either lie in bed and try and pretend her body wasn’t on fire, in need of his touch, or she could do something about it.
She made a decision and left the bed.
She was going to do something about it. Her bare feet sank into the plush carpeting as she crossed over to the bathroom. Before she could lose her nerve, she turned the knob and walked inside.
She came to a standstill just inside the door when she saw his silhouetted form in the shower and her feet carried her as though with a will of their own.
His face was directly in the spray, the water sluicing off his hair and skin, running down over his big body.
Unable to look away, she watched as he grabbed the bar of soap. After getting a good lather, he ran his soapy hands over his body, down his chest and thighs, before he grasped his shaft.
She swallowed, her gaze fixed on his hand, big, cupped around his straining shaft.
He ran his hand over the length of his cock, root to stem, the movements slow, methodical.
He hesitated and the speed of his hand movement gliding along his cock quickened, the motion becoming shorter, faster.
Yasmine felt her body respond to the way he was touching himself. She imagined it was her hand running along the thick ridge, her hand lightly touching the mushroom cap … her tongue …
Holt raised his eyes and met Yasmine’s.
Slowly, keeping his gaze on hers, he casually removed his hand from his cock and turned off the water.
He opened the glass door and stepped out, not bothering to grab the towel draped over the bar to cover himself as he walked toward her.
Her glance fell to his naked shaft, jutting out thick, male. Eager.
She slowly dragged her passion-glazed eyes to meet his.
“Touch it,” he dared her, and her eyes flew to his as her tongue snaked out to moisten her dry lips.
“I … I’d better go,” she said, and he caught her before she spun around.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” he murmured, his words making her stop.
Her heart raced and her nipples beaded against her silk gown when she felt him approach her.
“You know you want to.” His warm breath fanned the side of her head as he bent close to whisper the words.
Yasmine swallowed.
“Go ahead. Touch it.” The words were a dark challenge, as though he knew she wouldn’t do it. He placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders, moving her body so that she faced him.
She licked her tongue over her mouth a second time, her eyes drawn again to his shaft.
Thick, long, it was flushed a dark rose, straining.
She glanced up at him. The ends of his nostrils were flared, the look of carnal lust brightening his eyes, yet he didn’t move. Didn’t take her hand and place it over that part of him she desperately wanted to feel. To taste. To touch.
She swallowed. Hesitantly her hand reached for him, taking him in her palm and stroking over the velvet skin of his shaft.
She heard his groan, but continued her soft caress. Her fingers danced over his entire length, tracing over the deep vein that pulsed beneath her fingertips from his base, where his sac tightly nestled against his shaft, to the mushroom tip, and she ran a finger over the small eye, wiping away at the bead of moisture.
“You’re beautiful.” The words escaped without conscious thought.
“Yasmine.” He choked out her name. Seeing the look on his face, the way her touch was affecting him, gave her a surge of feminine power. For her to have such an effect on him was a heady feeling.
She kept her eyes on his as she leaned toward him, planting a kiss over his male nipple. Although she wasn’t experienced in making the first moves, instinct took over, and she mimicked what he’d done to her when they made love.
Her tongue darted out to stroke and lick the nub, drawing it deeply into her mouth and suckling him, much as he’d done to her.
As she kissed and laved him, her hand closed around his shaft, her fingers barely able to circle him. She continued her teasing touches, her hand running up and over his rock-hard shaft.
To Love a Wilde Page 12
