Page 194 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

Joy.

It overwhelmed him, pure and consuming, at the knowledge that she was as affected as he was. That she wanted him as much as he wanted her. The spell was woven and he couldn’t break it. Not when she looked at him like that: begging…pleading for him to kiss her. It was what he wanted too, so he did. Not softly or gently, or in any way slowly to savour her, but hard and desperate. As if she was the first breath of air after he’d spent so long suffocating.

He grabbed her beneath her thighs and lifted her onto him. Jasmine wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him, the curtain of her curls falling in a golden waterfall over his shoulder as she bent down to kiss him.

Dio! She’s intoxicating.

He walked them over to the large couch that stood before a behemoth of a fireplace. It was magical in the winter; he wished he could transport them in time so he could lay her on the fur rug, with a crackling fire warming them both as he took her.

‘Emilio, don’t make me beg.’

He wanted her to. He wanted her to beg for him and only him. Wanted her to look at him as though he was worth something.

She did look at you like that.In the vineyard.It was true. And here he was, laying her on a couch, about to have his way when she deserved so much more. This rush to pleasure…it was what a hook-up was like. Jasmine was far from that. There was something morphing between them. She had been out there supporting him today. What would happen after they had sex? Would they go back to separate rooms? Live separate lives? Would she need to re-establish her boundaries?

I don’t want that.

He wanted to nurture whatever this change was. He wanted to feel the way he did around her all the time. This drunken spell… it was how they had behaved that first night. Impulsively. That wasn’t the man he’d vowed to be with Jasmine.

He didn’t want to ruin this…whatever this was.

He cradled her face and broke the kiss.

‘Belleza, it’s been a long day. You must be tired.’

‘Are you?’ Her breath came in little pants that puffed over his lips and he wanted to kiss her again.

Don’t ruin this, Emilio.

He brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek and over her hair. ‘I’m going to run you a bath and, when you get out, I’ll have dinner waiting.’

‘That sounds nice.’

Not quite ready to let Jasmine go, Emilio carried her up the wide flight of stairs. She hadn’t argued once. Whether she meant to or not, she was letting him see the softer, more laid-back side of her, and that felt momentous.

He took her through the master suite and into the bathroom, a marvel of marble and antique luxury with a chequerboard floor, and sat her down while he filled the tub large enough for two of him. Once the water was deep enough, he held out a hand. Jasmine took it and let him draw her to her feet. There, he slowly undressed her. Her gaze never strayed from his face. Instead of surrendering to the lust within him, he kissed her gently on the lips, then picked her up and placed her in the hot water.

‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said and turned to leave, but she caught his hand.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Join me.’ It was a soft command.

‘Jasmine…’ Emilio looked down at her naked body. Being in that water would drive him insane.

‘Please.’

One word was all it took to convince him. He shed his clothes and stepped into the bath, settling behind Jasmine and pulling her against his chest.

Jasmine placed her hand over his, linked their fingers and moved his hand over her skin, over her breast, then let go: silent permission for him to touch her. And he did, up her chest and over her throat. When he tightened his fingers ever so gently, Jasmine leaned her head back against his shoulder, lengthening her neck.

‘Dove sei stato tutta la mia vita?’he said in a low voice against her skin.Where have you been all my life?Because this, right here—he and Jasmine, skin to skin—felt right in ways he couldn’t express.

He moved his hand down, down, down over her ever so slightly swollen belly. Only recently had she started showing. He had noticed in the two weeks leading up to the wedding and every day since. Jasmine was growing his child. His flesh and blood.

His miracle.

He walked around with the sonograph picture in his wallet, a constant reminder to make the right choices. A reminder that the vineyards were not just for him, but their future. His wife and child’s.

With each day he felt more drawn, more connected to Jasmine. But it felt like the most intimate they had ever been, lying in this tub together. Even more intimate than the physical release of sex. This calmed his soul. This was spiritual.

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