HER EVERY FANTASY

Collins grilled his teeth, fighting the surge of violence that urged him to wipe the smirk off the best man’s face, tear his arm From Jasmine’s waist, and break the fingers that were feeling their way up the erotic curve of her spine.

‘She’s very beautiful.’ His mother’s voice filtered through the battle roar in his ears. He wrenched his gaze from the couple on the dance floor and managed a foggy look.

‘What?’ he asked, not having caught what she was talking about.

An amused smile teased his loss of rapport with her. ‘Favour’s sister, jasmine . Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how striking she is. You’ve been fixated on her all evening.’

He frowned, not liking to think his obsession with Jasmine Leclaire was obvious. ‘She is… very watch-able,’ he said, trying to brush the issue aside.

‘You don’t have to stay with me, Collins. I am with friends and they’ll lookafter me. Feel free to pursue your interest in her.’

‘ I don’t have the time for it’ , he stated dismissively.

Her eyes gently mocked his assertion. ‘Haven’t you climbed your mountain? Doesn’t it get lonely at the top by yourself.’

He mocked right back. ‘Just because Leonard’s got himself married today doesn’t mean I’m ready for it.’

‘You make it sound as if it has to be programmed into your schedule.’

‘For the best outcome… yes, it does. Nothing works well unless you’ve planned for it.’Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

She laughed. ‘Do you really think you can plan love, Collins? That you can snap your fingers and… hey presto! The woman you want as your partner for life will roll up and present herself just when you want her to?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll put my mind to it when I feel the need.’ It certainly wasn’t love on his mind right now. More a case of lust raging out of control.

Still looking highly amused, his mother said, ‘You can’t will it, either. It happens. You can’t order the time, the place or the person. It simply… happens,’

‘You’re talking chemistry, not love,’ he answered dryly.

‘Am I? Well, let me pose you a question, Collins. Food for thought. How many Jasmine Leclaire’s have you met?’

Only one. And one was too many, messing with his life.

His mother didn’t wait for a reply.

It was his business, his decision.

She pushed back her chair and stood up, offhandedly stating, ‘I think I’ll find the powder room.’

His gaze instantly targeted the dance floor. Other couples were jigging apart, happily putting their own steps to the beat of the music. Not Jasmine and her partner, who was all too conveniently no taller than she was. The guy had her thighs glued to his, and the hand now spread over the lower slope of the pit of her back was definitely applying pressure.

A red haze of fury tinged Collins thoughts. He knew dancing wasn’t on that guy’s mind. More like wet dreams. The guy undoubtedly had an erection. Any minute now he’d be dancing Jasmine out the opened French doors, finding a shadowed place on the veranda…

His chair almost tipped over as Collins erupted onto his feet. It had taken iron control not to make any connection with Jasmine this time around, but be damned if he was going to let some other guy connect with her right under his nose. He barely stopped himself from charging like a bull, head down, nostrils steaming, horns lowered ready to gore.

It was certainly how he felt.

______

Jasmine knew she should slop what Khalid was doing. She’d slid into a careless passive state, too drained of energy to bother forcing a break away from him. Nevertheless, being nice to him did not include allowing him this frottage on the dance floor. It was getting downright dirty and he was probably nursing ideas she didn’t want to encourage.

He was not the man for her.

He never would be.

And she didn’t care if Favour scolded her for not grabbing what was available. All too available, Jasmine thought grimly, screwing up the strength to make a few things clear to Khalid. Just as she was lifting her gaze to his face, she saw a hand clamp over his shoulder, a strong darkly toned hand, its fingers bent like lethal claws, digging into Khalid’s suitcoat.

Her heart instantly skipped a beat.

‘Hey!’ Khalid protested, loosening his grip on her as he half turned to face the threatened assault.

Collins Templeton glowered at him from his intimidating height, the power of his physique a ready deterrant to any argument, though he didn’t need it. The aggressive energy he emitted was enough to drop Khalid’s jaw and kill any further words he best man might have spoken.

‘Excuse me,’ Collins grated out, his dark eyes blazing a challenge that would have shrivelled any last scrap of foolhardy courage. ‘This dance with Jasmine is mine.’

Khalid not only didn’t dispute the claim, he didn’t even check with Jasmine if she wanted to be passed over to Collins. He dropped her like a hot coal and back-tracked off the dance floor, gesturing for Collins to take her over. Which he did, with a speed that almost swept her off her feet. Pressed to another male body-a very different male body- Jasmine struggled against the flood of excitement it stirred, a rebellious sense of pride insisting that she shouldn’t surrender to it willy-nilly.

‘You didn’t ask my permission,’ she tired at him, her eyes defying his arrogance in assuming he could keep her wailing for hours and still do whatever he wanted with her.

‘No, I didn’t.’ He returned her challenge with blistering mockery. ‘You can reject me if you want to.’

She burned. From head to toe she burned with the need to be with him. To deny it would be completely self-defeating, but she was mad at him… Mad at herself for missing him so much… For being so affected by him.

She started to pull away from him.’ Well, maybe I will’ she said stiffly, but his hands tightened around her.

‘Stay’ he said softly.

She considered moving away again, but although he sounded arrogant, something in his voice and his eyes made her stay it. ‘I hear you’ve had a good year,’ she said, moving to less contentious ground and being deliberately bland so he wouldn’t know her whole body was a quiver from being in contact with his again.

‘A very good year,’ he answered, his chin tilting belligerently, his eyes blazing with self-determination.