Kitabı oku: «To Love a Wilde»
The first touch of his lips against hers ignited a flame that blew Holt’s earlier conviction—that his fascination with her was a passing thing—wide apart, like a pallet of dynamite
He slanted his mouth over hers, taking nibbling bites from her plush lower rim, pulling it inside his mouth and lavishing it with his tongue. She whimpered when he released it, only to glide his tongue across the seam of her lips in a sensual seesawing motion until she parted her lips for him, silently inviting him inside.
When he felt her tentatively reach out and wrap her arms loosely around his neck, Holt brought her closer, flush against him, her soft curves molding against his hard body. Her big, beautiful breasts pressed tightly against his chest.
He was on fire for her. What had started out as a simple need to taste her, to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked, had escalated into a blazing need that was beginning to consume him.
And damned if he didn’t want to get devoured in the blaze.
Dear Reader,
Writing Jasmine and Holt’s story, the second book in the Wyoming Wilde family miniseries, was rewarding, but often challenging! As I wrote their story and saw them coming to vivid life, these two characters were, at times, fun, sexy and completely irreverent. Other times they were stubborn and obstinate. They are two people who are bound and determined not to succumb to what everyone around them can see is inevitable—that they are falling in love. Hard.
What started off as a simple story of a woman who fell in love with a man, became one that was boundary-pushing and unpredictable, but always a hot, wild and amazing love story.
I hope you enjoy reading Jasmine and Holt’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
As always, keep it sexy;)
Kimberly Kaye Terry
About the Author
KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY
KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY’S love for reading romances began at an early age. Long into the night, she would stay up until she reached “The End” with her Mickey Mouse night-light on, praying she wouldn’t be caught reading what her mother called “those” types of books. Often, she would acquire her stash of “those” books from beneath her mother’s bed. Ahem. To date she’s an award-winning author of fourteen novels in romance and erotic romance, has garnered acclaim for her work and happily calls writing her full-time job.
Kimberly has a bachelor’s degree in social work and a master’s in human relations and has held licenses in social work and mental health therapy in the United States and abroad. She volunteers weekly at various social-service agencies and is a long-standing member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., a community-conscious organization. Kimberly is a naturalist and practices aromatherapy. She believes in embracing the powerful woman within each of us and meditates on a regular basis. Kimberly would love to hear from you. Visit her at www.kimberlykayeterry.com.
Books by Kimberly Kaye Terry
Kimani Romance
Hot to Touch To Tempt a Wilde To Love a Wilde
To Love a
WILDE
Kimberly Kaye Terry
MILLS & BOON
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Chapter 1
“Are you okay, baby? Is the rope too tight?”
Hot liquid eased down her inner thighs in response to the words whispered coarsely against her neck.
“No.” She paused and drew in a breath. “They’re … they’re not too tight, I mean. I … I’m okay.” She stammered out the response.
“Good.”
One word and he had her going crazy.
Yasmine’s head tossed on the pillow, her lids tightly closed and her breath coming out in hitched puffs of air as she eagerly waited to feel his mouth against hers and his big body blanket her, forcing her farther down on the mattress.
“But you have to tell me, baby.”
She shivered as the whispered words feathered along her neck. Her body bowed, arching toward him, desperate to meet his scalding-hot touch.
“Tell you … tell you what?” she panted, groaning when he captured the lobe of her ear with his teeth and tugged.
“You know what I want to hear.” He licked the side of her neck with his tongue.
She felt his hand skim up her thigh, past her hip, over her waist and up the midline of her body before he cupped one of her breasts in his big hand, strumming his thumb over her nipple until it tightened against his palm.
“Tell me, Yas.” He drawled the words against her ear in a voice so deep it sent shivers dancing along her spine. The breath that fanned the hair at her temple made her draw in a ragged breath.
Even as she arched into his embrace, ready to tell him whatever it was he wanted to hear, to end the sensual storm that raced in her body, the same one that had been burning for ten years, a nagging buzz in the distance distracted her, refusing to go away.
In frustration she raised a hand, surprised at the ease with which she removed it from the ropes binding her wrists together, and batted away at thin air, as though to make the noise go away.
It grew louder, more insistent. She opened her mouth, ready to tell him whatever he needed to hear, to tell him how she really felt about him, the way she’d felt about him since the first time she’d met him, when she was no more than a child. Ready to tell him that as much as she’d tried to let go and move on with her life, thoughts of him were always there, in the back of her mind, hovering … but the buzz grew so loud and strident Yasmine knew she couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Her eyes flew open.
With a cry of disappointment and pent-up frustration, she glared up at the ceiling, her heart pounding and sweat trickling down the valley between her breasts.
She didn’t have to look around to see if she was alone. She already knew.
She’d had yet another wake-me-up-before-I-go-go dream, featuring none other than Holt Wilde. Another scalding-hot dream where yet again she’d awakened horny, frustrated. And all alone.
“Don’t forget that part,” she mumbled aloud in self-disgust. “Seems like I’ve been alone my entire life.”
She shook her head in a feeble attempt to dispel the lingering images of the two of them locked in an embrace so hot she felt her cheeks burn. She swallowed deeply, placing her palms over her burning face.
She’d traveled the world, studied with some of the world’s best chefs, and now, after her stunning win of a televised major culinary competition, she was able to see her lifelong dream of owning her own upscale restaurant come to life.
Her life now was exactly as she dreamed it would be and more.
She had no time in her life for adolescent dreams. Now wasn’t the time to allow ghosts from her past to enter her life. Even if the ghost was six-feet-plus of raw masculinity that had filled enough dreams to last her a lifetime.
At any rate, it wasn’t as though she had now or ever occupied his thoughts the way he had hers. The man didn’t even know she was alive.
“Time to face the world … seize the moment, and all that jazz,” she mumbled, purposely infusing energy and optimism into her voice, reciting her favorite mantra. Even to her own ears, her voice was flat.
Yasmine rose from bed and stuffed her feet inside her slippers before making her way to the bathroom.
Just as she was turning on the showerhead, the phone rang. After glancing at the clock, seeing the early hour, she was seconds away from ignoring it, thinking it was just some telemarketer. Saturday mornings seemed to be their M.O. for calling her, nine times out of ten. But with everything going on in her life over the past few months, she didn’t want to chance missing an important call.
Grabbing the bath towel from the hook near the shower door she hastily wrapped it around her body, walked over and snatched up the phone.
“How’s my baby girl doing this morning?” A familiar voice spoke into the phone, and with a small smile, Yasmine plopped back down on the sofa that also served as her bed. “I called you earlier, but you weren’t home. Did you get my message?”
“I’m doing great, Aunt Lilly, definitely can’t complain! And, no, I haven’t had a chance to check my voice messages, I’m sorry. How are you?” she answered, a smile on her face.
“I’m fine, baby. And so proud of you I could just about pop! I got the magazine in the mail yesterday and almost hurt myself running around showing everyone my baby!” she enthused, and Yasmine laughed outright.
She’d sent her aunt a copy of a top culinary magazine and the one that sponsored the Top Young Chef competition she’d recently won. That month’s issue featured Yasmine on the cover, trophy in hand, along with a two-page spread inside highlighting Yasmine’s win of the competition.
“I went to town yesterday, and, baby, I must have bought out every copy of the magazine they had at the local Walmart! I even had one of the articles with your picture framed and mounted!” she said, and Yasmine could hear the pride oozing from her voice.
Yasmine sat back on the bed, her smile growing as she listened to her aunt’s glowing praise. She herself was still reeling from it all and was having a hard time believing how her life had changed so dramatically, particularly over the last month.
“Aunt Lilly, half the time I feel like pinching myself to make sure this isn’t all some dream,” she said, laughing. “I still can’t believe it all.”
“Well, believe it, baby. You worked hard for it, and deserve every bit of happiness life can give you. I’m happy that I had a small bit to do with that.”
“You had more than a little to do with it, Aunt Lilly. I don’t know what I would have done without you, during the competition as well as my entire life,” she said softly, and both women were silent for a moment.
“Enough about me, how are you doing? Everything going well on the ranch? Anything new and exciting happening?” Yasmine said, injecting a cheerful note into her voice.
“Yes, it’s all going well, baby. Same ole, same ole, as they say,” Lilly said, lightly laughing before pausing and clearing her throat. “Well, with the exception of planning the wedding.”
At that, Yasmine’s hand gripped the receiver tighter. “Wedding? What wedding? Who’s getting married?” Her stomach fell when her aunt didn’t immediately respond, and she sat up straight in the bed, her hand tightening on the phone.
“Who’s getting married, Mama Lilly?” she asked, reverting to the name she unconsciously called her aunt whenever she grew upset.
“Nathan is, baby girl,” Lily answered softly, knowing what caused Yasmine’s reaction.
“Nate?” she asked, surprised.
“I’m as shocked as you are.” Lily laughed and continued, “We all are.” She went on to fill Yasmine in on the story. As she listened, Yasmine unconsciously blew out a breath of air, closing her eyes, the knot of anxiety in her stomach easing away.
“I hope I’m invited to the wedding,” she said hesitantly.
“Of course, Yasmine, you’re family!”
There was another short pause. This time she distinctly heard her aunt expel a long breath, making her frown.
“What is it, Aunt Lilly? Spill. What’s going on that you’re not telling me?”
“Nothing’s going on, baby, what are you talking about? I just was thinking, that’s all.”
“About?”
Although Yasmine loved her aunt like a mother, there were times when she wanted to scream in frustration when trying to pry something out of her, particularly if it would make her aunt worry. This was one of those times. The fact that her aunt had called her twice in the same day should have alerted Yasmine that something was going on.
“Well, I didn’t want to worry you. But it seems as though I’m going to have to have surgery,” Lilly finally said, and Yasmine sat straight up, the knot of dread returning, this time for her aunt.
“Surgery? What type of surgery? What do you mean surgery? When? What are you talking about, Aunt Lilly? Why are you just now telling me?” She asked the questions in back-to-back succession.
“Baby, calm down! Listen … it’s nothing major, I—”
“No big deal? How can you say that? Wha—”
“If you would let me finish,” Lilly broke in, and Yasmine stopped and drew in a breath.
“Like I said, it’s not major. You know how bad my knees are. This time it’s my right knee. It’s going out on me again. Docs want to give me another knee-joint replacement.”
“Another one? You just had that one—”
“Fifteen years ago, Yas.” Lilly again broke in. “Just a few years before you came to live with me, baby,” she said, chuckling softly.
“Oh,” Yasmine replied, sitting back on the sofa, her body slumping.
Time had flown by. It seemed like yesterday she’d come to live with her aunt after her parents had dropped her off, unable … or unwilling … to take her with them as they went off on one of their “grand adventures.” Although she missed her parents when she was sent to her aunt’s, she’d later be thankful, as Lily had become a second mother to her after her parents died in a plane crash.
Yasmine expelled a long, relieved breath. Although she preferred her aunt didn’t have to have any type of surgery, this was one she could handle. “Who’s going to take care of your ‘boys’ while you’re recuperating?” she said, and heard Lilly’s husky, soft laugh again.
Lilly never made it a secret how much she loved the Wildes … or her boys, as most, including Yasmine, referred to them.
After Jed Wilde had adopted the boys formally, he had hired Lilly on as the housekeeper to do light cleaning and to cook for his new family and the ranch hands he employed, as well. Eventually she’d moved in with the family, living in the home with them, and had become much more than an employee. She’d become family.
When Yasmine had shown up on her doorstep after the death of her parents, not only had Lilly welcomed her, so had Jed and his adopted sons.
Lilly had always treated her as though she was the daughter she’d never had, loved and cared for her, fussed at her when she needed it. She was the mother Yasmine had always wanted, and she couldn’t have asked for a better parent.
But for her to ask her to come back to the ranch, face Holt again, was something she didn’t think she could do, not even for her aunt.
“Baby … I need you,” Lilly said.
And just like that, she had her.
With a barely suppressed groan, Yasmine agreed.
Chapter 2
Yasmine brushed away the hair that had escaped the tight chignon she’d so meticulously created that morning with one hand as she dragged her wheeled suitcase behind her with the other, avoiding passengers as she hurried along the airport terminal.
Her stomach rolled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning, and that had been nothing more than a bran muffin and a cup of coffee before she headed out to the airport.
But she knew it wasn’t the lack of food that was making her stomach grumble or giving her the overall queasy feeling in her gut. No, lack of food had nothing to do with her current state. To say she was on edge was putting it mildly.
Soon after assuring her aunt that she’d come home, she’d gotten in touch with the producer from the popular food and cooking network. After winning the reality-show competition, she’d been approached to host her own show, and like everything else, it was a dream come true for Yasmine.
But her aunt needed her and there was no way she could turn away from helping. Relieved, she was told that the show was still in the development stage and they needed to iron out details, such as the location and theme of the show. Although she hadn’t signed a formal contract, she was assured they were still very much interested in her and that her six-week absence would be acceptable. By that time, they would have everything ready, and she could do the first taping.
Relieved, she’d scratched one thing off of her to-do list and made the second call, this one to Clayton Moore, the owner of some of the most upscale restaurants in New York, who’d also approached her for the position as executive chef at one of his restaurants.
“Of course! Absolutely that’s no problem, Yas!” he’d assured her to her relief, when she’d asked if she could have more time to think about his offer and told him of her aunt’s need for her.
Although she’d felt the slightest bit uncomfortable with him using the shortened version of her name, she brushed it off, listening intently as he continued. “I told you, I’m very much interested in you … working for me, that is,” he’d said, quickly clarifying, making her unease escalate.
After her win of the show and the subsequent media attention, to Yasmine’s astonishment the offers had come pouring in from all directions. From requests to pitch a “miracle” dicer and slicer on one of the shopping networks to pitchwoman for a local down-home fast-food joint, the offers had been coming regularly.
“You take care of what you need to, and I’ll see you in a few weeks. And remember, I’m just a phone call away. In fact, before you head out, if you have time, I’d love to bring you by the restaurant, maybe have dinner. And discuss anything you might have questions about?” he’d asked, and Yasmine could feel his big smile come through the phone.
Something about his smile reminded her of the wolf in “Little Red Riding Hood.” And she definitely was beginning to feel like Little Red herself when, after the first meeting, his assessing glance brushed over her, subtly but with enough attention that she grew uncomfortable.
She’d shaken off the feeling when the rest of the meeting had gone smoothly and he hadn’t been in the least bit unprofessional.
Clayton Moore was definitely a mover and shaker in the restaurant business, and for him to offer Yasmine such a coveted position, as executive chef with two souschefs of her own, along with a full kitchen crew, was beyond remarkable.
Although she’d planned to use her earnings and newfound notoriety to open her own restaurant, the offer was more than appealing. If she accepted it, she’d be one of the youngest chefs to attain such a lauded position.
As for Clayton … Yasmine was more than aware that he was interested in offering her something more than a job. From the moment they’d met, the handsome entrepreneur had made his interest known.
Tall, dark, handsome and sophisticated. Clayton Moore was everything she should want in a man.
The minute Clayton’s face came to her mind, another man’s image superimposed its way over his. Forced its way in. Arrogantly shoved the other man’s image away as though he had every right to, Yasmine thought in irrational irritation.
Holt Wilde, the youngest of the Wilde men.
And each time it did, she ruthlessly shoved away the image of his big, hard body, along with the Stetson he always wore low, shadowing his bright blue eyes and hiding that half smile he seemed to favor … the one that always gave her shivers even when it wasn’t directed at her.
It wasn’t as though he was forcing her to think of him. In fact, she doubted she herself ever came to his mind.
Maybe that was what was more irritating than anything else, Yasmine thought glumly. The fact that she alone had this obsession with a man who probably didn’t even remember her, much less think of her on a regular basis, like clockwork, as she had him, all these years.
“I need serious intervention,” she mumbled aloud. “One-on-one, put me in the prayer circle and douse me with holy water type of intervention.”
Out of her peripheral vision Yasmine saw a young mother tug her toddler closer toward her, eyeing Yasmine with a frown on her face.
There she went again, talking out loud. Ugly habit she had, whenever anything plagued her.
“And Holt Wilde is just one big old plague,” she said out loud, again.
This time the woman grabbed her child’s hand and hurried in the opposite direction from Yasmine.
She ignored the woman and straightened her shoulders as she continued to stride through the airport. But no more.
No, she was determined that by the end of her stay at the ranch, things would change, she’d make sure of it. While helping her aunt, she had another agenda in mind. She would, once and for all, exorcise all thoughts and fantasies of the one man who had invaded her mind for nearly twenty years, rid herself of the feelings, feelings she knew were simply a residue of her girlhood crush, once and for all.
This time she would be the one to walk away …
Holt bit back a curse as he waited impatiently for the van packed full of tourists to move along. The uniformed police officer who whistled and waved his baton in front of the double-parked van in front of the airport was about as effective as an ass on a gnat, Holt thought, his irritation escalating.
Apprehension had his damn guts tied in knots, which didn’t help his current situation.
When his brother had asked him to pick up Lilly’s niece, Yasmine, from the airport, to say it was the last thing he wanted to do was putting it mildly. It was Sunday, the day he and his brothers, as well as the rest of the ranch hands, took it easy, the day they all attended to their own interests.
He thought back on his interest. That would be the blonde beauty he’d left in bed curled up around his pillow earlier that morning after he’d received the call from his brother Nate.
All thoughts of going another round with the woman came to a screeching halt when Nate had informed him that their housekeeper, Lilly, a woman they viewed more as a mother than an employee, needed a favor.
With her surgery coming up, the doctor had ordered as much rest for Lilly as possible, and the hour-and-a-half drive to pick her niece up from the airport wasn’t something she could manage.
He’d sat straight up in bed, impatiently shoving the hair from his eyes as he’d listened while his brother blithely went on to tell him that Holt needed to pick Yasmine up from the airport, as no one else was available.
Holt’s thick brows came together in a deep frown as he inched along the congested traffic at the airport, remembering the conversation.
“No one else can get her?” He’d questioned his oldest brother while glancing down at the woman who lay cuddled close to him, sound asleep in bed. “What about Jake? Last I knew he was staying at the ranch more than he was in town. Can’t he pick her up?”
Momentarily distracted, he saw her move … He frowned, trying to think of the woman’s name … Amy. Amy inched closer to him, the sheet covering her slim body slipping down to reveal one of her small, plump breasts. Before the call, that would have been more than enough enticement for Holt to awaken the sleepy woman and go at it another round.
But that was before he found out that Yasmine was returning. Now the image of the young girl he’d known long ago filled his mind.
“Payback can be a bitch, bro.”
“Asshat,” he’d bitten out as Nate’s booming laugh echoed into the phone, stabbing the end button on his cell and staring down at the phone, a deep frown on his face.
Nate was his oldest brother and had recently become engaged. The fact that Holt, along with their middle brother, Shilah, had hired Althea knowing Nate’s mandate of no women allowed had been an issue. Even though it had turned out well—better than that, the two of them had fallen head over heels in love, despite Nate’s avowals of never wanting to get married—both Holt and Shilah had known that he’d get them back for their interference.
Everyone knew, Holt included, that as a young girl Yasmine had had a major crush on him. Although he’d not allowed himself to think of her in romantic terms back then, he easily recalled her big brown eyes and riotous mane of curls and her laugh … The sound of her laugh had always made him pause.
“Round one goes to you, big brother, but the game ain’t over,” he’d said to the empty phone.
Holt had tossed the phone on the side table. The woman—hell, what was her name?—had sleepily turned to him at that moment, reaching out for him. He’d given her a distracted smile and kissed her on the forehead, promising to see her later in the week, that something had come up at the ranch, and within a matter of minutes he’d dressed and had headed out.
He’d planned to park and go inside to help Yasmine with her bags, but a last-minute change in the airport she was scheduled to fly into had made it so that he had barely got there in time for her plane to land. His glance fell to the dashboard. According to the flight itinerary she’d texted to Miss Lilly, she would have made it in thirty minutes ago.
There had always been something about Yasmine that made him want to go the other way whenever he was around her.
He remembered when she first came to the ranch; she couldn’t have been any older than nine or ten to his twelve years of age. He remembered that she rarely spoke; in fact, he’d wondered if she could until finally he had heard her laugh while in the kitchen with her aunt.
Her laughter, even back then, had drawn him to her, and briefly mesmerized, he’d stood in the doorway, staring across at her. But the minute she saw him, her light brown face flushed with color and she literally flew from the kitchen.
It hadn’t taken long for Holt to realize, as they grew older, that she had a crush on him.
That crush came to an awkward head when, the day before Holt left for college, the young Yasmine grabbed him and pulled him close and kissed him. Surprised, he’d pulled away. But not before he’d returned the kiss for a short time. The memory of her soft lips, the feel of her soft young curves against him, had intermittently whispered into his mind throughout the years.
That was the last time he’d seen her.
When he’d returned home, Yasmine had always been away, and within two years she had left for culinary school. The few times she’d come to visit her aunt, she’d always managed to come when he wasn’t home, whether by accident or design, Holt never knew.
Finally, the van moved and he scanned the crowded throng, looking for her.
He drew in a breath and froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel like a vise, his eyes widening, then narrowing. He felt as if he’d been sucker punched right in the gut.
Although it had been years since he’d seen her last, he knew the minute he saw the woman standing near the curb that it was her.
Yasmine Taylor. All grown up.
Damn.
The traffic and noise from the bustling travelers, the irritating shrill whistle from the cop, all faded to background noise as he sat behind the wheel, transfixed, staring at her.
The sun’s rays gleamed against her upswept dark brown hair.
His gaze swept over her, head to toe.
She was small; he remembered that she’d barely reached him at chest level as a young girl. She’d been slightly overweight when she was younger. However, as an adult, the curves had settled in all the right places, he thought, subtly adjusting his jeans, the fit becoming uncomfortable as he watched her bend over and unzip a compartment in her luggage.
Her jeans hugged her firm, round bottom to a T, and as she bent forward, the ends of the shirt she wore, which hugged her generous breasts, slipped out of her waistband, exposing the slim expanse of unblemished brown skin.
When she straightened she looked directly at him, her large, doelike eyes widening. Even from his ten yards’ distance away from her, he could see the flush that blazed across her face.
Again, he felt his gut clench and his mouth go dry as she stood staring at him, across the walkway.
The shrilling whistle broke him out of his absorption and he broke his gaze, turning to see the cop maniacally waving his baton, urging him forward.
“Sorry about that.” Yasmine glanced behind her, mumbling the apology when her suitcase banged against the guy standing so close behind her she could almost feel his warm breath singe the back of her neck.
But really, did he have to jump into the same sliding door as she had, at the same time? Plastering a fake smile on her face while pushing as close as humanly possible against the glass-paned door, she heaved a big sigh of relief when she finally tumbled out, nearly falling when the man pushed past her.
It was an unseasonably warm day, particularly for Wyoming, and she felt a trickle of sweat travel past her forehead and down the side of her face as she emerged from the revolving doorway. She righted herself and brushed her hands over her hips, down her jeans, a scowl on her face, as she scanned the curbside, looking for the ranch’s foreman, Jake Stone.
As soon as she’d deboarded the plan she’d turned on her cell and checked her messages. Earlier she’d made a hasty call to her aunt when she’d learned the plane she was scheduled to fly on was having mechanical issues.
Because of that, instead of flying into the nearby airport, she’d had to travel into this one, nearly four hours away from the ranch.
She’d been disappointed when she’d heard the message from her aunt, telling her she wouldn’t be able to pick her up from the airport, that her knee had been bothering her and she was instead sending the foreman from the ranch.
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