Chapter 72 Morning
Morning comes sooner than I want it to.
Too soon.
Light spills through the tall windows of my bedroom in soft gold ribbons, crawling across the sheets and settling on her face like it was meant only for her. Jasmine lies in my bed, tangled in white linen and sleep, her curls scattered over the pillows in wild, beautiful disarray. A few strands veil half her face, rising and falling with each quiet breath.
A faint snore escapes her lips, barely audible, but enough to make something warm twist in my chest. I stand at the foot of the bed for a long moment, just watching her.
Memorizing her.
The way her lashes brush her cheeks. The way her mouth curves slightly when she exhales. The way her chest lifts and falls like the tide. She looks peaceful—unguarded, soft, unaware of the storm waiting beyond these walls.
She looks breathtaking.
I release a slow breath and walk closer, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The bed dips beneath my weight and she shifts, murmuring something incoherent before settling again.
My hand rises on instinct.
I trace the curve of her forehead with my finger, brushing her curls aside so I can see her properly. My thumb glides down her temple, slow and reverent, as if she might vanish if I don’t touch her carefully enough.
I lean down and press a kiss to the tip of her nose.
“Good morning, tesoro.”
She hums softly, rolling onto her side until she faces me. Her eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep, unfocused at first. Then they land on me.
And panic fills them.
She pushes herself upright so fast the sheets slide down her shoulders, her hair tumbling around her face like a dark curtain.
“Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” she blurts, her voice trembling. Her lower lip wobbles. Her eyes shine with unshed tears.
My chest tightens.
“Not possible, baby,” I murmur, cupping her face gently. My thumb strokes her cheek in slow circles. “That’s why I’m waking you up.”
She stares at me as if she’s only just realizing what she’s seeing.
My three-piece suit fits me perfectly, tailored and sharp. My watch glints on my wrist. My tie hangs loose in my hand. My hair is styled neatly, and my stubble has darkened overnight, rough against my jaw.
Her gaze slides past me, to the other side of the room, to the suitcase beside the wardrobe.
Packed.
Ready.
Her shoulders slump slightly, as if the weight of it finally settles on her chest.
I wish—God, I wish—I could have had a slow morning with her. A morning without flights and deadlines and men waiting downstairs. I wish I could sit with her in the kitchen while she brewed coffee, watch her pad around in one of my shirts, kiss her lazily like time belonged to us.
But Dominic has given me a time, a place, and cannot be late. The sooner I leave, the sooner I come back to her. I lean closer, pressing my lips to hers in a long, unhurried kiss.
It starts soft.
Her lips hesitate for a heartbeat, then respond, moving against mine like they were made to. I deepen the kiss slowly, my tongue parting her lips. She opens with a quiet moan that sends heat straight through me. My hand slides to the nape of her neck, fingers threading into her curls, guiding her closer.
Her body melts into mine.
Her hands fist the front of my jacket, tugging me closer as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go. I suck gently on her lower lip, my tongue stroking hers, and she gasps into my mouth, breathless and warm and entirely mine in this moment.
I pull back before I lose control.
Before I forget that I have to leave.
She bites her bottom lip, her face flushed, eyes dark and searching. My hand still cups her neck. I keep her close, our foreheads nearly touching. Her gaze drifts to my mouth, and she leans forward, about to kiss me again.
Instead, I turn my head and press a long, wet kiss to her throat. She inhales sharply, swallowing hard. I pull back just enough to look at her. Her cheeks are red. Her lips parted. Her breathing uneven.
“If your goal was to make it difficult for me to leave,” I murmur, “then you’re succeeding, tesoro.”
Her expression softens, sadness slipping into her eyes. And I feel it—sharp and immediate—like a blade between my ribs.
I wish I could stay.
But I need this chapter of Raymond closed, permanently.
“What time is your flight?” she asks quietly.
“11 p.m.”
She nods, trying to be brave. She reaches for my wrist and checks the time on my watch.
“Do you… do you have time to share a cup of coffee with me before you leave?”
Her eyes lift to mine—wide, hopeful, fragile. Pink lips slightly parted. Cheeks still flushed from the kiss. How could I ever say no to her?
“Of course, tesoro.”
She smiles. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s real. She swings her legs off the bed and stands. I rise with her and offer my hand. She takes it immediately, her fingers curling around mine as if she needs to anchor herself. Her gaze stays locked on mine like she’s trying to memorize every detail—every shade of green in my eyes.
I pull her gently closer and she leads me toward the stairs.
Halfway down, I stop suddenly and tug her back into my chest. She stumbles against me with a small gasp.
I grin.
She glares up at me. “Damien—”
Before she can finish, I slide my arm under her thighs and lift her into my arms.
She yelps, clapping a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Her other hand clutches my collar.
“What are you doing, Damien!?” she shrieks.
I laugh, deep and loud, the sound echoing down the stairwell. Her expression shifts from shock to something softer, something tender. When my laughter fades, she’s staring at me like I’m the only thing in the world.