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The certainty that he’d just made one of the biggest mistakes of his life lodged in his chest, hard and sharp. He’d stuffed up, and he had no idea how to fix it. He only knew that he had to fix it, or he’d never forgive himself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE PUDDING WAS STILL bubbling merrily away, with no idea that its creator had just undergone a severe trauma. Claudia burst into the kitchen, tears sparkling on her lashes, and moved straight to the Aga. The water had half gone. She topped it up and then stepped back, propping her hips against the kitchen bench.
What the hell had she just done?
She couldn’t rewind that decision. She’d lost her virginity to Stavros Aresteides, the most arrogant man in the history of the earth. If she needed any further proof of that, she didn’t need to look far beyond the fact that he’d shouted at her seconds after pulling away from her.
She swore softly under her breath and then moved towards the kettle, flicking it on with force. She was standing, waiting for it to boil, when he entered the kitchen.
Whatever he’d been about to say flew out of his mind the minute he smelled the pudding.
And the minute he saw the dejected slump of her shoulders, and knew himself to be responsible.
“Claudia?”
She stiffened visibly. “What?”
“I think I prefer ‘yes, sir’,” he muttered, reminding her of the game they’d played while she decorated the Christmas tree. Hadn’t that been a prelude to this? Hadn’t it all been?
Their coming together had been inevitable from the moment he’d shown up at her apartment.
“What do you want?” She repeated, still not looking at him. “And I should warn you, I’m armed with boiling water.”
“I stand warned,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
She didn’t want to. But nor did she want him to know how upset she’d been. She sucked in a steadying breath and quickly dashed at her eyes, making sure there were no tears on her cheeks.
She turned around slowly, defiance in all her features. “What?”
Stavros bored his eyes into her, seeing through her, studying her, watching her in a way that made Claudia feel even more exposed than when he’d been inside of her.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” he said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Your exploits are famous. You’ve had dozens of lovers.”
Claudia shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
“I know that now.” He frowned, a line creasing between his brows. “But you must be experienced. I mean, you’ve had dozens of … boyfriends.”
“No.” She closed her eyes on a wave of mortification. “I haven’t.”
“A few? Some?”
“No.” Her cheeks flushed.
“But the pictures…”
“A few pictures,” she muttered. “That’s all it took for the press to decide that every man I was seen with was a romantic interest.”
He swore. “Why didn’t you …”
“What, Stavros? Deny it? Why? Why fuel the fire?”
“Because none of it is true.”
“I don’t particularly care what people think of me,” she said with a shrug. “My friends know who I am.” The inference sat between them, thorny and uncomfortable. Her friends knew who she was. He, Stavros, did not.
Her first lover and he had no damned clue about her.
