Her eyes widened, then as the implications of her discovery took hold her lashes swept downwards across the curve of her marble-pale cheeks.
God knew she had no right to expect anything from him.
She had no right to expect him to care—she didn’t care. Last night had not been about caring; it had been a moment of insanity. She had told herself, she had not stopped telling herself, that last night had been a one-off, but still in a secret unacknowledged corner of her heart she wanted more.
‘I have—’
Her lashes lifted as he began to speak and Luiz stopped dead—the wide, luminous dove-grey eyes that met his were shimmering with unshed tears. His anger fell away in a rush and tenderness that took him totally unawares rushed in to fill the vacuum.
Shock at the intensity of his feelings made Luiz’s voice harsh as he caught her arm and urged her into a chair. ‘Sit down before you fall down.’
Nell, struggling to summon some defiance in the face of his obvious irritation, shrugged off the hand that lay heavily on her shoulder.
‘Will you stop telling me what to do?’
His jaw tightened. ‘What’s wrong?’
Nell looked at him and thought, I want something from you…something more… She passed a hand across her face. She had no intention of voicing her thoughts—she had lost her mind, but not to that extent. She didn’t have a clue what the more she craved from him was, and even if she had been able to put a name to it she didn’t have the right to ask.
‘Nothing.’ The point was, even having her somewhat limited social life, she hadn’t been a virgin at twenty-plus from lack of opportunity, but from choice.
She just wasn’t equipped for the entire sex-without-emotional-involvement thing. She didn’t think she was straitlaced or prudish. A healthy sex drive was nothing to be ashamed of; she just didn’t have one—or so she had thought!
Nell’s glance slid of its own volition to the sensual outline of Luiz’s mouth. She swallowed and pressed her hand to her chest to contain the flutter that climbed into her throat as erotic images crowded into her head.
Clearly Luiz had what she lacked: an ability to separate his sexual needs from his emotional ones. He wasn’t going to be experiencing this awful, aching, empty feeling—it was good old-fashioned and utterly illogical guilt. She inhaled deeply, causing the bodice of her dress to chafe against her oversensitive breasts. It could be worse—she could have fallen for him!
The laugh that left her aching throat just stopped short of hysteria—just. No wonder he was looking at her as though she were a freak; in his world twenty-five-year-old virgins were probably about as freaky as it got.
‘Stop looking at me like that,’ she snapped.
Luiz, who only ever dated women who smiled at him and told him he was wonderful, found himself for some bizarre reason not disliking her cranky manner—it was probably the novelty value.
She had more prickles than a porcupine. A slightly unfocused expression drifted into his dark eyes—she had not felt prickly in his arms. She had felt soft and supple, responding to his touch without reservation—she had given without expecting anything in return, given without reservation. A need to feel her softness again right now and here of all places, Rosa’s place, swept through him until every cell in his body ached with it and he felt shame at his weakness.
‘Like what?’
‘You try and be aggravating,’ she accused.
He didn’t deny it and carried on looking.
‘What?’ she said, feeling totally unnerved by his scrutiny—actually, not totally. That came when he answered her.
‘The sex, it was good.’ His narrowed gaze slid to her mouth, he swallowed and admitted in a throaty purr, ‘Better than good.’ He added something in Spanish that sounded throaty and sexy and probably indecent so she was glad she didn’t understand him.
‘I’ve not an awful lot to compare it with, but it was not something I will forget in a hurry.’
‘I have a lot to compare it with—’
‘Please spare me the details, I have a sensitive stomach,’ she begged, not joking.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, watching her tug at the ring on her finger.
‘What does it look like? I’m trying to get this damned thing off—’
‘I will not forget it either.’
Nell’s head came up with a jerk. Cheeks tinged with pink, she regarded him warily.
‘I suppose you’re wondering why I slept with you? I’ve been thinking about it.’
‘So have I.’
His deep voice made her stomach flip, but Nell determinedly ignored it and she pushed aside the erotic images of intertwined sweaty limbs that his husky comment had triggered. She opened her mouth to say sorry and stopped herself—why should she apologise? He ought to take at least fifty per cent of the blame.