Looking up, she found him watching her, his eyes sober.
He turned and strode over to yank open a cabinet, tug out a black silk dressing gown and shrug it over his naked body. The fabric pulled snugly around his shoulders and chest, lovingly outlining the curve of his musculature. If she were a different sort of woman she’d complain. Sexy as he looked in the sleek material, it couldn’t compare with the perfection of his toned, golden body.
Their eyes met as he wrapped the belt around his lean waist and tied it tight. He stood, arms akimbo, with one dark eyebrow tilted in query.
Tessa felt the blush rise in her cheeks. But there was no way he could know what she was thinking.
‘Why didn’t you warn me?’
What? Dragging herself from the hypnotic spell he’d cast over her, she sat up straighter, grateful now for the bubbles that kept all but her shoulders and head out of sight.
‘You could have told me you were a virgin.’
His tone made her freeze, her heart thudding in her breast. He made it sound like an accusation. Something to be ashamed of. As if somehow her virginity had spoilt the experience for him.
She frowned, wondering if that could be it. True, she hadn’t really known how to please him and had just let instinct guide her. But there’d been no doubting he’d climaxed every bit as spectacularly as she had.
‘Did it really matter?’ The words were out of her mouth before she’d even thought about them.
He stepped close, looking grim with his knitted brow and intense stare.
‘It helps to know these things,’ he said tightly.
‘Oh.’
She watched his chest heave as he sighed, the sound heavy and deliberate. Like someone who didn’t want to be having this conversation.
Well, that made two of them!
‘If I’d known, I would have been more careful. I could have made it easier for you.’
He was worried that he’d hurt her? True, she still felt odd, but the sharp sting of pain was long gone. A bubble of pleasure welled inside her at the thought of his concern. Then reality intervened, obliterating the sweet fantasy that he genuinely cared.
‘Would you have believed me if I’d told you? Like you listened when I said I’d been in South America all this time? Or when I promised I hadn’t contacted the Press?’
She watched his features harden as he scrutinised her from his lofty height.
Oh, what was the use? Did she really expect an admission of guilt, or an apology? She closed her eyes, unable to face him any longer.
The truth was, she wanted neither from him.
Making love with Stavros had been the most profound experience of her life. Reaction shuddered through her as she realised the enormity of what she’d done, giving in to those urgent cravings. She didn’t want an apology. Instead she longed for…what? His passion? His tenderness? His love?
She’d done the one thing common sense dictated she not do. She’d acted on impulse and fury and against her self-protective instincts. She’d made love to a man who saw her as an enemy. All because she’d fallen in love with a phantom, a man who’d never really existed. The man of her dreams, who was so similar and yet so different from Stavros Denakis.
The brush of soft fabric along her arm made her eyes pop open. There he was. Stavros. Leaning over the bath as he trailed a flannel over her shoulder and across her collar-bone. His features were still, unreadable, but the grimness had faded from his eyes and around his mouth.
Nevertheless, she wanted to be alone. Didn’t he realise that? She felt far too vulnerable with him so close. The last thing she wanted was him touching her like that. Not now.
‘Don’t. I can wash myself.’ She reached for the flannel but he tugged it away from her fingers.
Smoky grey eyes held hers for so long that eventually she felt her resolve and her indignation crumble. There was banked fire in his expression that reminded her vividly of what had just passed between them. A remembrance of the delight they’d shared. Heat flared in her cheeks. It had nothing to do with the warmth of the bath and everything to do with the shadow of desire she saw in his eyes.
His lips curled up in a tight, lop-sided smile that stole her breath.
‘But it’s so much more pleasant to have me do it for you. Isn’t it?’ His voice held an intimate, husky note that made her insides melt.
The cloth swiped down her arm and back up, grazing her hip and breast on the way. She sucked in a breath at the sheer sensual pleasure of it. The power he had over her, just from his touch, was incredible. So much for her indignation. Her will-power dissolved, overcome by her own yearning need.
‘I…’
‘Shh, Tessa. Just relax and let me bathe you.’