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‘Not really,’ he said, surprising her. ‘I don’t really date.’
Of course. How gauche of her. ‘Lovers, then.’
He laughed. ‘Enough,’ he agreed after a moment.
She bit down on her lip. ‘But I bet it’s been a long time since you were with a virgin.’
‘I’ve never been with a virgin,’ he said simply. ‘Not even my first time.’
She blinked at that confession. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah.’
So she was his first? She couldn’t explain it, but she liked that. It was as though they’d both shared a new experience together, and it meant more to her than it should.
‘How do you feel?’ The gravelled question sent her pulse firing anew.
‘Relaxed and satisfied,’ she purred and he laughed, a throaty sound of wry amusement.
‘I’m pleased to hear it. Stay here.’ And he pulled away from her, standing and moving out of her room.
‘What are you doing?’ she called after him, but the words were soft, consumed by a yawn. And, instead of asking again, she collapsed back against the bed, closed her eyes and remembered. Remembered the madness in the kitchen that had brought his lips to hers, or was it the other way around? Remembered the way they’d exploded at that first touch and everything had seemed predestined in some way.
A moment later she had her answer, anyway. The sound of the bath running, then the bathroom cabinets being open and shut. She lay there, a smile on her face, listening, and a little while later he returned.
‘Are you asleep?’
She squinted one eye open and then realised he couldn’t see her. ‘No,’ she said, sitting up. ‘Are you taking a bath?’
He laughed. ‘No. You are.’
He reached for her hand and she wriggled off the bed, standing on legs that had suddenly turned to jelly. He understood and he lifted her once more, so she joked, ‘I could get used to this. Like some kind of Rajah.’
He stepped over the threshold, into the bathroom, and her breath caught in her throat. He must have found every candle in the house and the bathroom was glowing and warm, like something out of a fairy tale.
Don’t! she alerted her subconscious.
Don’t even think like that.
Fairy tales. Don’t. Exist.
How many times had she seen her mother go down the rabbit hole of thinking a man was her Prince Charming and that their ‘happily ever after’ was at the end of the next party or vacation or new home or fresh start? Only to wake up alone, miserable, depressed and looking for consolation in the bottle or vial of whatever drug she was into at the time.
Amelia was not Penny—and that meant knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that fairy tales didn’t exist.
Still, fairy tale or not, the bathroom was beautiful in this lighting. The tub was half-filled and an extravagant layer of bubbles sat on top of the water’s surface. There was an aroma of lavender in the air—so he’d found her bath oils.
He placed her over the edge of the tub, easing her feet into the water, and she smiled as the perfect warmth wrapped around her legs. She sank into it slowly, lying back against the edge and letting the water enfold her.
‘Heaven,’ she said softly and then blinked her eyes open to find him staring at her.
‘Enjoy it.’ His eyes sparked with something like promise and her heart turned over in her chest. ‘I’ll be waiting.’ He retrieved a towel and placed it within easy reach of the bath, then moved to the door. ‘Don’t fall asleep,’ he warned as he left and she smiled.
Fat chance.
She wasn’t going to fall asleep all night. Not when she had Antonio Herrera as her own personal pleasure centre. Having discovered what her body was capable of feeling, she wanted more. She wanted everything.
And she wanted him to show her.
