“I’m glad it wasn’t three years ago,” he said with a gruff laugh.
“Would that have been so bad?” She murmured, lifting a hand up and cupping his stubbled face.
“It would have been wrong,” he said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. His laugh was uncomfortable. “This probably still is.”
Claudia shook her head. “No. This is perfect.” Just this one night, she reminded herself. She turned her head to the side, expelling a soft sigh. “Look!” She propped up on one elbow, bringing her face just an inch or so from his. “It’s still snowing.”
“So it is.” He shifted a little pulling out of her and sitting up straighter. “How have you never done this, Claudia?”
She sat up beside him, her eyes locked to his. “Is it so hard to believe?”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“Why? How old were you?”
“When I first slept with someone?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Younger.”
“How young?”
He laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Does it matter?”
“What? Were you like eight or something?”
Another laugh. “No.” He stared at her long and hard. “I was fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” She blinked at him. “Fifteen? You were a kid.”
“A boy,” he grinned. “What can I say? I was very interested,” he rolled his fingertip down her breast, and flicked her nipple. “In the female anatomy.”
“I’ll bet you were,” she drawled.
“It’s normal to be curious,” he said with a shrug. “Which is why I find it hard to believe you haven’t been with other men.”
“You know why,” she said, standing up a little self-consciously, and moving to the wardrobe. There was a toweling robe inside. She lifted it out and wrapped it around herself, cinching it at the waist.
“Do I?” He was glorious in his state of nudity. He stood, like a Greek god and strode into the bathroom. When he emerged a moment later, the condom was gone and he had wrapped a towel around his waist, and she bemoaned the covering of his flesh despite the fact she had done the same thing.
Claudia moved closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, staring down into her eyes.
“Tell me,” he prompted.
She held her breath. Dared she confess that he had ruined her for all men? That even as she was processing the death of her father, she was coming to terms with her burgeoning sexuality and that all her youthful passions had been ignited by the appearance of Stavros Aresteides?
“I went to an all-girls school,” she hedged. “I barely left the campus. When would I have had a chance to hook up with anyone?”
“Hook up?” His face flickered with disdain. “But you must have had dates? Interest?”
“Well, yeah,” she grimaced. “I don’t know, okay? It’s not a big deal, is it?”
The silence was barbed. He might have wanted to push her, but he let it drop. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her lips, just a brief kiss, and then straightened.
“Hungry?”
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure she was. “Why are you going to cook?” She was joking, but he surprised her by nodding.
“Or at least order a perfect room service.”
CHAPTER TEN