The careless endearment touched that lonely place deep inside her she’d always tried so hard to ignore and her abject humiliation was complete. She’d always known she was a pathetic cliché, but she’d never known quite how pathetic.
She pulled back, wanting not just to run away now but to hide under a very large rock.
He gripped her other wrist and drew her back towards him. Still chuckling, he pressed his forehead to hers. Then to her astonishment placed a kiss on her temple.
‘Eva, you’re one of the sweetest, cutest, sexiest women I’ve ever met. How could you not know that?’
He gave his head a little shake, the stunned pleasure the compliment caused making her chest hurt.
‘Really?’ she asked, then flushed redder, realising how needy she sounded.
But he didn’t seem to notice, the mocking twist of his lips disappearing as he smiled.
‘Put it this way, I nearly lost it in the living room and I hadn’t even got you naked.’ His voice had roughened, scraping over her skin. ‘Are you in any pain?’ he asked softly.
She shook her head. ‘It’s a bit tender, that’s all,’ she said, her senses reeling as the swell of emotion thickened her throat. She swallowed, forced the boulder back down. He couldn’t possibly know how much it meant to her to know the passion between them had been mutual.
Giving a gentle tug on the tie of her robe, his hand snuck under the towelling and settled on the curve of her waist. ‘Come to bed.’
The husky invitation sent all sorts of fireworks off in her nerve-endings, but she caught his wrist, stopped his hand from wandering. ‘I don’t think I can do it again yet.’
He grinned. ‘I meant, so we can get some sleep.’ Taking his hand out of her robe, he rubbed his thumb under her eye. ‘You look shattered. And for that I am responsible.’
She opened her mouth to try and deny it, but it stretched into an enormous yawn.
He laughed. ‘I rest my case.’ He lifted the duvet and scooted back to make a space for her. ‘I won’t ravish you again tonight. You have my word.’
Given the smouldering look in his eyes, she wasn’t sure she could trust him. But the sight of his muscular body, shadowed by the duvet, was so tempting, and the thought of spending a little more time in his arms, however meaningless, so seductive, she nodded.
He’d been patient and understanding and surprisingly gallant. And he’d told her she was the sexiest woman he’d ever met. Which was obviously a lie, but a really nice one.
She settled into the lee of his body, curled her back into his chest. He anchored one arm around her waist, bundling her into the towelling robe like a child, and kissed the back of her head. ‘Sleep tight.’
The feel of his big body cocooned around hers felt so safe, so comforting she drew in a deep breath, let out a shaky sigh. Her wild night hadn’t been a complete catastrophe after all.
While the whole experience had been a lot more affecting than she would have anticipated. Not to mention exhausting. She’d remember Nick Delisantro—and the rainy autumn night in San Francisco she lost her virginity—for the rest of her life.
She closed her eyes, the lids weighing several tons, and drifted into a sleep filled with wonderfully vivid and earthily erotic dreams.
Nick watched the rain run in rivulets down the bedroom’s bay window, the droplets tinged orange in the dawn light, and diligently counted the streams. Eva shifted beside him, her flannel-clad bottom bumping his hip. He sucked in a breath, heat surging back to his groin, her scent flooding his senses—and he lost count of the rivulets. Again.
What had possessed him to suggest she stay the night? He wasn’t a snuggler, and he wasn’t responsible for Eva despite the dark smudges under her eyes or the astonished wonder on her face when he’d told her how sexy she was.
But even knowing that, he’d been lying here for hours now, kept awake by the double whammy of an erection that shot back to attention every time she brushed against him and the questions that refused to stop bouncing around in his head like hyperactive sheep.
How had a woman as passionate as Eva stayed a virgin for so long? And why had she? And why the hell had she picked him, of a
ll people, to be her first? A guy who’d left innocent behind a lifetime ago.
Easing his arm out from under her shoulders, he rolled away from her onto his side.
The answers didn’t concern him. They didn’t matter. He shouldn’t even be asking the questions. Just as he’d told her—and she’d agreed—those were her choices, not his. But somehow, he couldn’t stop the questions from circling like buzzards, and pecking away at his certainty.
He stared at the early morning light shining on the ugly antique dresser he’d inherited when he bought the apartment two years ago. He should wake her up. Call her a cab. He had to be up in a couple of hours, had to get the first draft of the script he was working on finished this week if he was going to meet the production deadline. But somehow he hadn’t been able to find the will to do it while her soft, scented body was curled so trustingly by his side.
For some strange, inexplicable reason, he’d wanted to keep her with him. For tonight.
He shut his eyes, felt the tired, gritty texture on the lids that signalled insomnia. Willing himself to ignore the murmur of her breathing and the aroma of spring flowers and talcum powder that teased his nostrils, his brain finally began to unwind, and the erection to soften.