“Gloria, what is it? Are you okay?” Jaime’s deep, velvety voice filtered into my ear. I let myself sink into him, shuddering against his manly, hard chest. His warmth blanketed me.
I took several deep, calming breaths just like my shrink instructed me to do after one of these the mind-shattering dreams. Words, however, stayed trapped in my throat.
Still holding me, Jaime smoothed my damp, matted hair.
“It’s okay, angel. I’m here. Why are you shaking?”
I moistened my parched palate with my tongue and found my voice. “It was just a bad dream.” My forever nightmare.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” His voice was soft and full of compassion.
“I can’t.” At least right then, I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to confide in this man—to tell him my secret. Though he had shared his scars, mine was still my cross alone to bear-with the exceptions of Kevin, who had lived it, and Madame Paulette, who had taken it to her grave.
“Come on, let’s go back to sleep.” He gently lowered me to the bed, and tucked me back in like a child. He kissed me lightly on the lips before lowering himself next to me.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I whispered.
His beautiful agile fingers traced my face. “Gloria, I’m not going to ravage you. I’m just going to hold you. You need me. Now roll over.”
I did as he asked and felt my body cocooned in his. He draped his arms around me, one hand brushing across my scar. My body softened in his as his heartbeat soothed my soul. For the first time in my life, I truly felt safe. There were so many things this gorgeous man could do to me. And needing him right now was one of them.
“Gloria, you’ve got to learn to trust me. Even with your secrets.” He gently kissed my head. “Now, sleep, my angel. I’ve got a big day planned for us tomorrow.”
Spooned in the safe harbor of his arms, I couldn’t battle the weight of my heavy eyelids. Before I could tell him that I was heading back to Los Angeles first thing in the morning, sleep took hold of me.
Chapter 13
I woke up in the morning in the same position I’d fallen asleep. Blinking one sleepy eye open after the other, I glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand—6:05 a.m.—and then cranked my neck to look at the man who was holding me. He was still sound asleep, soft rhythmic breaths emanating from his lush parted lips. Wisps of his sleep-tousled hair tumbled onto his forehead and a layer of fine stubble laced his face. God, he was beautiful in the morning.
Resisting the urge to run my fingers over his fine features, I carefully rolled away from him, hoping not to wake him.
He stirred. “Gloria,” he moaned. The breathy way he said my name was like a prayer. He stirred again, but to my relief, his eyes remained shut. A dreamy smile played across his gorgeous face. I wondered—could he be dreaming about me?
I tiptoed over to the luggage rack, where my suitcase was sitting. Rifling through the contents, I found something comfortable to wear on my long flight back to Los Angeles—a pair of Gloria’s Secret pink sweats and matching hoodie. I decided to forego underwear. All I wanted to feel was the softness of the fleece against my skin. And the memory of Jaime Zander’s touch everywhere.
I lifted off my baby doll top, stepped out of the matching bikini bottoms, and then folded them neatly into my suitcase. As I reached for the sweats, a breath of hot air descended on my neck and two powerful arms cinched my waist. His bare silky chest brushed against my back. He was up.
“Where do you think you’re going, Ms. Long?” Jaime purred. His velvety lips nuzzled the uber-sensitive spot on my neck just below my ear. My skin prickled all over.
I squirmed, trying to break loose of his grip. “I’m going back to LA. My plane departs this morning.”
He tightened his grip with one hand, and tugged my disheveled braid with the other. “You’re not going anywhere. We’re in Paris. I have the whole day planned, and a special treat in store for you this evening.”
Special treat? The words sent goose bumps to my skin. I was intrigued and tempted, but I stuck to my guns.
“Really, I’ve got to get back. I’ve been out of my office for more than a week.”
“Bullshit. Your office is closed today. It’s President’s Day.”
He was right. Think, Gloria, think. Except it was hard to think with this sex god nibbling at my earlobes. A bolt of unexpected erotic pleasure zapped my core. I was heating up.
“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do and e-mails to catch up on,” I stammered.
“Me too,” he breathed into my ear. “We can do them together here. Plus, we can get going on your ad campaign.”