“C’mon in. I have to find some pants,” he mumbled, talking more to himself than to her.
She was unsure now. Had he been drinking? Was this safe? She hesitated, but then stepped farther inside the room. There were people on the beach, and she had her cell phone in her pocket where she had easy access to it. Besides, he didn’t look like he was in much shape to do anyone harm.
“I made some cookies, and I thought you might like some,” she said loudly, as she walked to the hallway where he’d disappeared. Farther down, she found the kitchen.
More old stuff. What the heck? Toys, tools, all rusty stuff. It didn’t fit with the otherwise gleaming, contemporary space at all. Moving some things aside, she set the cookies on the counter as her discomfort increased. She thought it might be a good idea to leave before he got back.
“Cookies? That’s great—I’m starving,” he said more clearly, suddenly standing right behind her.
It made her turn in surprise, and she bumped into him. He put his hand on her shoulder to steady her.
She stepped away quickly.
He’d put on some jeans and an old tee shirt with the name of a manufacturing company on the front. His hair was still all over the place, his eyes bleary. Up close, he looked way too good, even in his messy clothes with his messy hair.
He smiled then, God help her. Her gaze traveled over him again, in spite of her intentions, and she remembered the photo of him in his suit on the website. Silver-gray, like a shark. She couldn’t afford to fool herself. Even if he was recovering from an injury, Leo was a shark.
“Why did you make me cookies?” he asked, stepping around her to check them out.
“I, um, I felt bad about being rude on the beach this morning, and for thinking you were, well, that you were lying about your…situation.”
He picked up a cookie, took a bite, his eyes never leaving hers as he tasted.
Jasmine swallowed hard, trying not to stare at his mouth. The kitchen in the beach house was large, very large, but she felt like they were in a small space together. Too close.
Maybe not close enough.
She shut her eyes, as if that might make him less hot when she reopened them.
Nope.
“That was nice of you, but unnecessary. I should apologize. I was coming on to you when you were working,” he said, popping the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “Wow, these are good. I can’t remember the last time I had a cookie someone other than Keebler made.”
She frowned. “Really? I thought your memory loss was only work-related…?”
He grinned. “I was speaking figuratively. I actually can remember cookies my mom made for me, and that would be the last time I had homemade ones. Until now. Thank you.” His smile was sincere, but his eyes still blurry.
“Are you okay?” she asked discreetly. “You seem a bit…hazy.”
“Painkillers. I never take them, but had to down a few earlier, and I am feeling a bit hazy. The things knocked me out. They do their job, I’ll give them that. Maybe too well.”
He plucked another cookie from the basket.
“What’s all this stuff?”
He chuckled as he followed her gaze, wincing when he shrugged. “I found myself buying things at garage sales to fill the time. Thought maybe I could fix some of it up. I know it’s weird.”
“Not weird. Just…unexpected.”
“Here, have a cookie,” he said, holding out the basket. “They’re good. Want a beer?”
She nodded and did take a cookie, finding herself relaxing after the initial awkwardness.
Sitting at the table, he set the cookies between them and lifted his beer to clink the neck against hers.
“Good to have company to celebrate.”
“Celebrate? What?” she asked, nibbling a cookie.
“Well,” he took a deep breath, as if needing to shore himself up. “I quit my job today.”
Jasmine paused, unsure what to say or think. “How could you quit your job? I thought you couldn’t even remember it?”
“I don’t. But my boss called, and he was really pushing me to do something to get the partners to wait for me to come back, and I made it easy on him and quit. I thought it was best, though I also told him I’d move out of here and find my own place. I guess I’ll have to sell my place in Manhattan too.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened. “You’re moving here?”
He shrugged, wincing again, as if he forgot it hurt each time before he did it. “I don’t know. I have to go someplace. He said I could use the house as long as I wanted, so there’s no rush, but I feel like I need to find a place that’s my own. Too much is vague about my life right now. I need something real.”
Jasmine frowned. “Do you think it might not have been the best thing to quit right now? What if you remember everything and you want to go back?”
“I guess I’ll deal with that then. What if I don’t remember? Time is still passing me by, isn’t it? While I can’t remember it, someone I knew died in that shooting. I don’t want to sit here wasting time. I think I’ve maybe wasted enough already.” He finished his beer and was quiet again.
Jasmine couldn’t have been more shocked.
“I don’t know what to say. Congratulations?”
He smiled, and she felt it to her toes. “Thanks. It’s nice to talk about it with someone.”
“No family? Friends?”
“I only had my mom, and she passed on years ago. I suspect most of my friends were from work.”
“So you’ve lost a lot,” she said softly, knowing what it was like.
“I guess. Not as much as some. You? You ever lost someone?”
She nodded. “My father, he killed himself.” She didn’t know why she told him. She never shared that with anyone.
“Shit. That sucks. I’m sorry. Were you close?”
“No. Unfortunately.”
He nodded, as if he knew. A connection was formed across the table as they both sat in silence for a few moments.
Her eyes went to his shoulder. She hadn’t noticed until then that he only used his right side—his right hand on her shoulder when she’d bumped into him, the same hand to eat cookies, the left still at his side, resting in his lap.
“I wanted to talk to you about yoga again. I’d be happy to help if I can. Do you still have a lot of pain?” she asked.
“Not all the time, but I kind of messed up earlier. I was feeling antsy and so I went out for a run, then a swim. I pushed too hard.” He explained to her what happened at the beach.
“Sounds like you could have ended up worse than sore, if you’d been caught in a current.”
“That would have sucked. I would have missed these cookies, and your visit.”
Jasmine didn’t find the joke funny. He rotated his bad shoulder once or twice. “It’s not so bad now. A little stiff, though the pills are probably still dulling it.”
Jasmine bit her lip. This was probably a bad idea.
Loving-kindness, she reminded herself. Compassion. He was hurting. That’s all this was about.
“Here, let me see what I can do to help.”
“I could think of all kinds of ways you might help,” he said, openly flirting now.
Jasmine tried to hide the smile that tugged at her lips, unbidden, but irrepressible.
“Stop that. I meant with yoga. I could help you through some gentle stretching that would ease the stiffness of the muscles. It would get the circulation moving so that that nerve damage heals faster, much like what your physical therapist was probably doing. Interested?”
Jasmine was talking about yoga, but Leo’s eyes told her he was thinking about something else altogether. Now that she knew more, she suspected he was covering up his sadness and fear with the flirting. That made it easier for her to handle.
He nodded.
“Yeah. If you can help me get back to fighting shape sooner than later, that would be great.”
“I can try. Take off your shirt.”
Her interest was purely clinical, she told herself as he stripped off the tee and sat, but she avoided eye contact with him as he did so. Yoga instructors needed to see how bodies moved and how muscles worked to help students with their movements and alignment. With an injury, it was even more important. She investigated his shoulder gently, winced at the angry wound, scarred over, but still obviously tender. It would be a while before he was pain-free, she bet. Right now, because of whatever he’d done earlier, pain seemed to radiate from the area. She could almost feel it in the way he held himself so tense.
However, as she touched his shoulder, the ripple of warmth that curled around her naval and then danced lower wasn’t clinical at all.
Flustered, her face warmed, though she stood behind him so that he couldn’t see. She worked with male students all the time, sometimes in more physically close situations than this one, and she never felt attracted to them. Never felt awkward or aroused.
There was something about Leo. But it was too late to stop now.
She put her fingers between his shoulder blades and pushed lightly, focusing on business. On helping.
“Lift up here, and drop your shoulder blades away from your ears. The pain will cause you to want to protect that shoulder, which often leads to unconscious hunching,” she said, glad that her voice was at least normal. “Try to be aware of that when you sit.”
“Okay,” he said, straightening.
“See how that pulls your chest back, opening up your chest, and stretching all of the muscles in front?”
Jasmine sure noticed.
As she told him to breathe in to a slow five count, holding and then releasing, a little perspiration formed on her lip. She moved him through three more gentle stretches that would get the entire shoulder area loosened up, but would also work the muscles in his back and chest.
“Damn, that feels good,” Leo said on what was closer to a moan, his eyes closed as he focused on breathing as she told him.
“Most people think of stretching as something they can do with their limbs only, but you stretch from the inside by breathing and focusing your breath in targeted ways,” she said softly, not wanting to break his concentration.
She didn’t realize that as she helped him support his shoulder with her palm while he lifted and lowered his arms, she was also tracing her other fingers up and down his spine each time he inhaled or exhaled. It was a reflexive movement, one she often did to help students focus on their breath, but suddenly, without explanation, the rhythm between them became erotic. Magnetic. Even though she knew she should stop touching him, she couldn’t seem to, her hand drifting up as he inhaled, down as he slowly let go.
She didn’t want to stop—he was doing some good work and it seemed to be helping—but her heart was picking up pace, her nervous system chanting want, want, want as she felt the interplay of muscles in his back and arms.
“Better?” This time, to her chagrin, her voice choked.
“Much. That helped a lot, actually.” His tone was sincere, easy.
“Yoga can be very simple, but very curative. People underestimate how powerful even the gentlest motion can be,” she said lightly, withdrawing her touch, but he reached up and grabbed on to her fingers.
“Leo.” She objected, tugging her hand away, though only halfheartedly. “No.”
He stood, then, and walked her backwards until her butt bumped the edge of the kitchen counter.
She let him press in close, until she could feel the heat from his body too. His heart beat against her chest as he leaned in. He was hard. For her.
Oh God.
“I should go,” she said nervously, quickly. “If you want to check out a class, though, come by the studio any time. I can leave you my card, or the number, because I didn’t bring a card with me, but I’ll be down on the beach in the morning, and—”
He interrupted her with his lips on hers, pulling her in and stopping her babbling with a soft kiss that erased any objections from her mind.
It was a nice kiss, but there was a promise of not-so-nice things behind it when he darted his tongue out to touch hers and then nipped her bottom lip lightly.
“Leo, we can’t do this. This is not a good idea.”
She’d meant to sound firm, but that was a pipe dream. She sounded like she was halfway to an orgasm, instead, which was about right.
“It feels like a very good idea to me.”
He pressed in closer, arms moving around her, his mouth more demanding, going in for a deeper exploration.
She let him, because it was good. Because it had been a while, dammit, and she wanted this. Wanted him.
When was the last time anything had felt this good? Jasmine sometimes thought the bliss that came with a satisfying, difficult yoga session was as good as sex, but right now, she was reminded differently.
“Spend the night with me?” He broke the kiss, waiting for her answer.
What were the names of those little fish that followed sharks around—didn’t they eventually get eaten, she wondered?
Still, she wanted to give in. Maybe that’s why she had pushed him away so strongly before, because she’d known from the moment she laid eyes on him that she wanted him.
And she could have him. Just this one time. Leo felt so good, so warm, strong, and the idea of being with him was intoxicating. She wanted to breathe him inside and wrap around him until she couldn’t tell who was who. The image danced in her mind, and she didn’t realize her fingers were moving over his bare chest, tracing the muscles there as if they had a mind of their own. Traitors.
It was risky, to swim along with a shark, but right now it was what she wanted more than anything.
Jumping in the deep end, she nodded and slid her arms around his neck, holding on.
Chapter Four
Leo only wanted one thing: Jasmine as naked as he could get her.
Whatever she’d done to him with that little yoga/breathing exercise, everything inside of him had relaxed. He’d gone from feeling old and frail—damaged—to being burningly alive.
Burning for her.
When her fingers had traced over his back, following his breathing, it was like she was pulling a string from inside, the two of them more connected than he’d ever been to a woman he wasn’t inside of.
He figured being inside of her was apt to blow his mind.
“Oh, yeah, that’s sweet.”
He watched in pure male appreciation as she sighed and bent backwards in his arms. Bracing her with one arm, he freed a hand so he could push her tank top over her head.
No bra. Gratitude swelled along with desire as he set to exploring her pretty breasts with his mouth. They became his world for several long, delicious moments. She hiked her legs up around his hips, and he ground himself against her as he took both nipples at once into his mouth.
Jasmine held on to the edge of the counter, her head thrashing as she moaned, cinching him tighter between her legs.
She was strong. Strong, soft and delicious.
Jasmine pulled herself up so that she could wrap her arms around him, her glorious hair everywhere around her face, her cheeks flushed, lips red from their rough kissing.
“I’ve got to fuck you, Jasmine. I mean, now,” Leo said roughly. It was graceless, but it was the truth.
She smiled, clearly liking that she’d pushed him that far. Pulling away from him, she took off her skirt and draped it across a chair, her gaze never leaving his as she did so. Then she turned and walked out of the kitchen.
It was the kind of invitation he wasn’t about to decline.
Peeling off his jeans as he followed, Leo reached for her again in the hallway. He wanted to put her against the wall and have her right then, but he drew back, some little bit of sanity making its way through his brain.
“No protection. I have some upstairs.”
“Let’s go, then.”
Clearly, Jasmine was a woman who, when she made up her mind, didn’t mess around.
; Leo liked that. Too many women he’d known had played games. They were manipulative or coy. Not Jasmine.
She walked ahead of him up the stairs, chuckling softly when he groaned at the full-on view of her ass. She moved slowly, drawing out the torture. He’d make sure he returned the favor shortly, he thought with a smile.
So many things he wanted to do to this woman.
They reached his bedroom—which was only his by virtue of his few suitcases, yet unpacked, thrown on the floor by the closets.
He sought out the condoms which he’d brought because they were in his dresser back in Manhattan, not that he’d had any real plans or thoughts of using them. Now he blessed that happy circumstance.
Ripping the package, he covered himself and joined her where she stood by the bed. Her eyes followed his progress, but she didn’t say a word.
“You’re so insanely gorgeous.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, taking in her eyes, the peach-colored nipples that tipped round, full breasts, and the firm, smooth length of her body.
“You don’t have to say that.” She leaned in to kiss him. “I want to fuck you too.”
Blood roared in his head. He took one of those long, deep breaths she’d taught him, trying to focus.
“I’m just telling you what I see.” It was true. She was incredible.
She smiled as she turned around and bent over the edge of the bed, her delectable bottom pushed up in his direction. She spread her legs, offering herself to him.
“Do you like what you see now?”
He groaned, wanting nothing more than to plunge inside, but he held back in spite of the urgency he’d felt a few minutes before.
“I do. I want a much closer look.”
Dropping to his knees and easing in between her thighs, he admired the slick, pink flesh of her sex for several long moments. Turning his head to plant a kiss on the inside of her thigh, he drew a finger down the length of her from the bud of her ass to her clit and then back again.
Mimicking her earlier touch, he repeated the movement, back and forth, back and forth, until her legs trembled and she was moaning into the sheets.
“Please, Leo,” she panted.
Bending Over Backwards Page 3