Easy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘OH, MY GOD, Santos!’ She stared at him, her heart pounding in her throat, her eyes huge as she regarded him across the room. He was dressed as he had been that morning, but it was impossible to see him without seeing all of him now. She refused to think about him naked, refused to think about how he’d felt on top of her, inside her. ‘You scared me half to death!’ She was pleased when the exclamation emerged with a degree of irritation.
‘We weren’t finished talking.’ The words were quiet, carefully blanked of emotion, which was reassuring. Dressed in only a fluffy robe, she felt at a disadvantage, but she had no intention of showing him that. She moved towards the window—a safe distance away from where he sat on the edge of the bed—and planted her bottom on the window’s ledge.
‘I’m not sure there’s anything else to talk about,’ she muttered, lifting her shoulders as she dropped her gaze to the thick carpet.
‘I was angry.’ The words were simple and unexpected.
‘No kidding.’
‘I should have realised the difference in our experience but, the truth is, the intensity of my own needs for you deafened me to anything else.’ His grimace was wry, and then he stood, moving towards her so she had only a few seconds in which to brace, to fortify herself against her body’s instinctive reaction.
‘I hurt you.’
She blinked, her heart turning over in her chest. Had she been so easy to read?
‘I wasn’t gentle, and I would have been if I’d known. I would have made it so much better for you.’ He expelled a breath, his eyes heavy on her face. ‘Your first time shouldn’t be rushed like that. It should have been special, different.’
She didn’t admit that it had felt damned special to her—until his anger and disappointment had become evident.
‘It was fine,’ she said simply, turning her face away, no longer wanting to look at him, aware of how easily he could read her features.
‘“Fine” has never been a benchmark I considered worth aiming for.’
Her stomach squeezed. ‘It was better than fine. Is that what you want to hear? Did you come here for praise, Santos? To hear that you were amazing?’
Out of her peripheral vision she saw him shake his head and then he was crouching before her, his hand on her knee gentle and so kind that it was somehow all the worse. She resolutely straightened her spine, refusing to show him any more overt sentimentality.
‘I came here to apologise.’
It shocked her. She swivelled to face him, biting down on her lower lip. ‘I was angry that you would choose me to be your first lover, because of all the things I cannot offer you, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. I don’t want that to be your memory of losing your virginity.’
She nodded a little awkwardly. ‘I’m not—I wasn’t building it up to be some big, momentous event.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It’s not like I was “saving myself” or anything so quaint.’
He pounced on her denial. ‘So how does it happen then that a beautiful woman in her twenties had never had sex?’
‘I just hadn’t.’ She pulled away from him, standing, turning a little to look out of the window. The Aegean glistened beneath her, beautiful and expansive, bright and blue.
‘There has to be more to it.’
‘Why?’ She angled her face to his. ‘Why can’t it be something I just never got around to?’
‘Because you are a sensual w
oman, and to have not indulged that side of your nature makes no sense.’
She nodded, his confusion easy to understand. ‘It’s a long story and I’m not sure it really matters.’
‘I don’t like mysteries.’
Her laugh was involuntary, a small sound of disbelief. ‘Is that what I am?’
He didn’t answer.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ she said honestly. ‘I wondered if I should but then once we were in the pool house I couldn’t really think of anything except—’