His Yasmina [Completed]

Chapter 25-Honeymoon

The cottage has been prepared; the lamps were lit and a fire flickered on the hearth.  Simple country furniture decorated a cozy living room. To the right there was a dinning room with a table and four chairs with an arched entry to the kitchen. Down the hallway were doors to two bedrooms and a guest bathroom.

"Yasmina." He murmured, watching her back tremble at the deep hungry heat of his voice. 

She closed her eyes as his fingers lightly brushed her neck from behind her.  He was restraining himself, she could feel it as he went very still.  All her awareness seemed to be focused where his fingers hovered.  His fingertips caressed the side of her neck just beneath her ear, slowly down the curve of her neck to her shoulder where raindrops remained. 

Jasmine offered no protest as he continued touching her sensitive skin.

"You're wet." He breathed. 

"You're sick."  She replied, shivering as her pulse quickened.

The stem of the rose she still had a firm grip on snapped and she instantly opens her palm leaving it to fall on the floor.

His fingers traced her shoulder, coming down the back of her arm to her wrist.  He captured her fingers in his hand and for a moment she nearly clasped them back.  He raised her arm to give a soft kiss across her knuckles.  

"How could you do this to me?"  She whispered.  "I never did anything to you."

Jasmine heard him take an intake of breath. 

"If it's any consolation, I would sell my soul at this very moment to make love to you."  He huskily whispered against her ear.  

To her amazement, her stomach fluttered at his sensual words.  Something inside her came awake at his hands like a harp and his deft fingers brought out of her heavenly music.

But her mind quickly protested his attention, fighting the spell he wrapped around her. 

"Stop it.  Just stop." Finally finding her voice and whirling to face him.  "This isn't real."

She found him gazing down anxiously at her, a world of feeling in his dark stormy eyes.  "The marriage ceremony was indeed real. Legal in every sense of the word.  You're mine. . .as I am yours."

Jasmine swallowed hard, freezing and numb, the horror of his words clinging to her.  She passed him, approaching the crackling fire, not knowing what to say to him or what to do.  Sitting before it, she held her numb hands over the flames.  Cristiano joined her before the fireplace, much too close for her liking.  He had taken his suit jacket off and tossed over the back of a chair. 

The way she felt in his arms, it seemed to him less and less likely that his Yasmina would emerge from the cottage still a virgin. With every minute they spent together he began to feel strangely split off from himself. The planning stages of his vendetta were verging off track. He kept reminding himself she was an object to be used to achieve a desired result.

"Since you dragged me into this mess.  I have some terms I'd like to share with you." 

For long moments, Cristiano had forgotten how to breath when he first saw her coming into the ballroom–beautiful and regal as any Italian princess who'd ever lived.  He'd never dreamed he'd see such a gorgeous sight.   She was his Princess now and she will be treated as such. 

"Share away, Princess."  Cristiano replied with a slight tilt of his head, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"This marriage is to be based strictly on legal terms." She began, turning to face him.   Her face was flushed pink and her eyes were dancing with challenge. "If you insist on a physical union, you will have to force me.  I want your word this marriage will remain unconsummated. This marriage will not be complete in the natural sense. Ever."