The thought hit him from left field. Later? For now? There could be no ‘later’. She was a virgin. This was her first time having sex. Hell, for all he knew she was imagining this to be the beginning of something longer term, and he didn’t do longer term. But she knew that, didn’t she? So why the hell was she having sex with him now?
Frustration gnawed at his belly. Santos hated not having all the answers almost as much as he hated surprises and today she’d made him feel both. She’d also made him feel as though he were floating through heaven on a cloud but that didn’t matter. She’d lied to him. Not directly, but by omission; he wanted an explanation, and he swore to himself he’d get one.
* * *
‘Well,’ she said quietly when their breathing was more like normal. His weight on top of her was unexpectedly blissful, the roughness of his chest, his hairs there, pressing to her soft contours a new level of eroticism. Everything about this had been unexpected. She hadn’t spent much time thinking about sex. It wasn’t as though she’d had a reason to give it much consideration, having never really desired a man before. She understood the science behind it, and she’d obviously read books and seen films that featured sexual relationships, but nothing had prepared her for this.
Nothing.
Her body felt as though it had been pulled apart piece by piece and then reshaped gently, lovingly, into a whole new being. She sighed softly, stretched a little then stopped when the very movement threatened to dislodge him from her—she didn’t want that.
When he lifted his head above hers, though, his expression was like ice. His cheeks were still slashed with dark colour, the way they had been when passion had filled his veins, but his features were now trained into a mask of cool inquisition. ‘You were a virgin.’
It wasn’t a question so much as a statement. An accusation. She swallowed hard, a small frown forming a divot between her brows.
‘Yes.’ There was no sense in lying.
He nodded stiffly then shifted, pulling away from her so she was tempted to reach for him and draw him back. Only, when he stood, his spine, was ramrod-straight, tension emanating from him with every step he took. She watched as he strode across the room, disappearing for a few seconds before returning with a towel slung low around his hips, his eyes boring into her from across the room.
Feeling at a distinct disadvantage, she sat up and reached for the closest thing she could find, a blanket that was loose at the foot of the bed. She wrapped it around her shoulders and somehow managed to speak calmly when she next addressed him. ‘And you’re annoyed about that?’
Perturbation expressed itself in the flattening of his lips. ‘I don’t give a damn about your sexual history except for one point, Amelia. I don’t sleep with virgins.’
‘That feels like a form of sexual discrimination.’ She attempted a joke, but it fell flat. His mood was positively arctic and a shiver ran down her spine. Something like a stitch was gripping her heart, but a thousand times more painful than any she’d ever known.
‘I don’t want to date you.’ The words were like a whip on her spine. ‘I’m not interested in a relationship—with you or anyone. I’m the last man in the world you should have given your virginity to.’
The antiquated turn of phrase had her feminist hackles rising. ‘I didn’t “give” you anything,’ she snapped, then made an effort to grab hold of her temper. ‘We had sex—and you might not have known I was a virgin but I did.’
‘Exactly,’ he retorted decisively. ‘You knew and I should have known. You should have let me decide if I wanted to be your first lover.’
‘You make it sound like some great chore.’
‘It is a responsibility and it can bring with it expectations. Christos, Amelia, what were you thinking?’
The truth was, she hadn’t been thinking. It hadn’t really occurred to her that he might notice, let alone mind. ‘I just...’
But he was furious and it showed. ‘Do not make the mistake of thinking this means anything.’ He slashed his hand through the air. ‘Nothing about this changes what I wanted from you when we came in here.’
His words were cutting—deliberately so, she suspected—as though he was looking to hurt her as a way of demonstrating how ill-suited he was to be her first lover. How disinclined to offer any kind of tenderness.
And his assumption had her temper bursting through her, its ferocity a relief from the throbbing ache that was spreading in her blood—not a physical pain so much as one born of rejection and hurt. She’d known both those feelings often enough to recognise them now, and she knew that refuge lay in her temper, so she armed herself with it gladly, fixing him with a glare she hoped would pass for impatience.
‘You wanted to make love to me,’ she said darkly.
‘I wanted to have sex with you,’ he corrected.
She almost rolled her eyes. ‘And now that we’ve had sex you think I’m going to fall in love with you? Are you actually standing over there all terrified that I’m waiting for a proposal or something? Geez, Santos, I don’t have much experience with men but I’m twenty-four years old—I have a fair idea of how the world works.’
And now she gave into temptation and rolled her eyes, pushing off the bed while carefully keeping her blanket tucked around her shoulders. Her dress and underwear were in opposite directions. She prioritised her dress, scooping it off the floor then turning her back on him while she dragged it over her head, dropping the blanket as the dress fell into place before whirling around to find him staring at her with a small frown on his face.
He opened his mouth, about to say something, but she cut him off. ‘I wanted what you wanted. To have sex. And now I want nothing to do with you.’ Her glare was only slightly reduced in effect by the suspiciously moist layer over her eyes.
She held his gaze for two long seconds and then began to stride towards the door; she’d come back to find her underwear later. But when she was almost at the door he was galvanised into action, his fingers curling around her wrist, spinning her round and holding her still.
‘Damn it, Amelia, that’s not—’
‘What?’ A single tear slid down her cheek and she ground her teeth.