His eyes snapped open.
For Imma.
But the bed was empty.
He raised himself up on his elbow, his pulse accelerating as he heard the sound of running water from the bathroom. He glanced at the clock by the bed, realising how late in the day it was. She must be showering.
Only it wasn’t the thought of a naked Imma with water streaming over the soft curves of her body that was making his pulse beat faster. It was the sharp, shocking realisation that he had been reaching out for her—for the daughter of his enemy.
Except she hadn’t felt like his enemy—not when she’d been moving on top of him with her hair tumbling over her shoulders and a dazed look in those incredible olive green eyes.
When she’d walked out of the bathroom last night, naked except for that tiny wisp of underwear, he’d forgotten all those weeks of anger and doubt. In that moment he had simply been a man swept away by lust.
He gritted his teeth. But now his feelings were less simple—they were downright confused, in fact, and for one very obvious reason.
He hadn’t signed up for taking her virginity.
In fact, he’d never slept with a virgin before, and if he’d been going to start it wouldn’t have been with this woman.
Taking Imma’s virginity felt like a bond—a connection between them that didn’t fit well with the task in hand. And yet...
He might have made a joke of it earlier, but almost against his will—flying in the face of everything he knew to be logical—he liked being her first lover.
His skin felt suddenly hot and taut. Even to admit that privately to himself blew his mind. When had he turned into such a caveman?
But there was no point in pretending. Satisfaction that he had been her first still resonated inside him.
And affected him on the outside too, apparently.
Gritting his teeth, he lifted the sheet away from his erection. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. Imma was very beautiful, and she felt even better than she looked. But he was remembering how she’d fallen asleep, with her body curled around his. He let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
No matter how attractive the woman, or how intense his desire, he had never felt even the slightest impulse to hold any of his lovers in his arms while he slept.
It must have been finding out she was a virgin. There was no other explanation.
Rolling onto his back, he frowned up at the ceiling. He was irritated at having to feel anything but his usual sense of repletion. He certainly hadn’t planned on dealing with all this complicated stuff.
But was it really that complicated? So she’d been a virgin? So what?
She was an adult, and she had wanted sex as much as he had. Getting fixated on being her first lover was making him lose sight of what mattered—the fact that for once he’d done what he’d set out to do.
It had been a playbook seduction. He’d used his hands, his mouth, his body expertly to turn her on, touching her and tormenting her until she had melted into him, her moans of ecstasy filling the silent room.
Agreed, her virginity had added a layer of confusion—but surely it would make the likelihood of her marrying him and therefore getting back the business a shoo-in.
He was going to push for the soonest date possible for their wedding. After that, all that would remain would be for him to persuade her to sign the paperwork.
Then it would be done.
Revenge would be theirs.
But he was jumping ahead of himself. His moment of triumph would need to be savoured properly with Ciro, over a cigar, and probably some of that bourbon his brother loved so much. Right now there were other things to savour.
His pulse twitched and he felt hunger course through his veins like a caffeine rush.
So why not simply enjoy the ride?
He glanced over at the bathroom door. Maybe he would join her in that shower, after all...