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What the hell was I doing? The girl was a virgin. And not only had I never bedded a virgin before now, I had never had any desire to bed one. I preferred my women to know exactly what they wanted, so I could give it to them. Where was the enjoyment in having sex with someone who did not know how? There could even be blood!
But as the horrifying thoughts circled in my head, I led her towards the master bedroom, gripping her hand, and I knew I couldn’t let her go.
I wanted her with a passion which had only become more desperate since that damn kiss on the dance floor. More than that, I evenwantedto be her first lover.
Iwantedto be the man who would introduce this woman to the joys of sex. The first man to hear his name on her lips as she dissolved in ecstasy.
As soon as the shock of her revelation had worn off, instead of being turned off, I had been even more turned on. Tonight, she would be mine. And only mine. I would be able to possess her in a way no other man ever had.
I refused to question my bizarre reaction. This was surely just because she was the first woman in a very long time who had actually challenged me. I was so used to women fawning over me, and falling into my arms at the mere click of my fingers, that my sex life had become jaded without me even realising it.
Instead of finding her refusal to bow to her desire for me annoying, I had found it refreshing—and surprisingly hot—to see the spark of outrage when I had staked my claim to her. And then there was the chemistry between us, the intensity of which was not something I had experienced either in a very long time. Or possibly ever. Our kiss on the dance floor had been even more exciting and electrifying than my own first kiss in a back alley in Rome when I was a thirteen-year-old runaway.
The memory of that desperate first kiss with a woman far older than me, who had laughed at my inexperience, made my palms sweat unexpectedly as I turned the girl to face me. The red satin gleamed in the subdued lighting. Her breasts were high and firm, her breathing ragged. She stared at me with undisguised longing in her eyes.
My confidence returned in a rush. I was not that desperate boy anymore. Far from it.
But how could she be so transparent and yet also so much of an enigma?
I reached to take off her mask. I wanted to see all of her face. Wanted to know who she was.
But she grabbed my fingers to stop me. ‘Don’t.’
I frowned. ‘Why not?’ I said, the frustration making my tone brittle.
But she didn’t flinch, the pensive smile which lifted her lips more enigmatic than the Mona Lisa’s. ‘I don’t think I can go through with this if you take off the mask,’ she murmured.
Once again, her honesty stunned me. I was used to women who liked to play games, who flirted and teased and enjoyed it when I flirted and teased back. Sex had always been a game to me, a chance to prove myself, to show I could conquer any woman, could make any woman I desired moan and beg... But she was different. Not just her virginity but the complete lack of subterfuge.
I dropped my hand, because I could see she meant it. That this would be over if I did not acquiesce to her request.
A part of me was frustrated. This was another new experience. I had never wanted a woman so much before that I would allow her to make demands I didn’t like.
I bit my tongue, forced myself to push the easy smile back onto my lips. I refused to let her see she had rattled me. But I knew I wanted her too much not to agree.
Damn.
‘Okay,’ I murmured.
She shivered with relief. Why did keeping her identity a secret mean so much to her? And why did her infuriating request only captivate me more?
The need throbbing in my groin made it clear I would have to answer those questions another time.
I took off my jacket and threw it over a chair. Then loosened my tie and unbuttoned my collar.
She watched me, the arousal in her eyes flaring, along with the blush on her cheeks, which lit freckles on the bridge of her nose I noticed for the first time.
Perhaps she liked to play games after all, I decided...
The pounding in my groin intensified at the delicious thought. And some of my irritation subsided.
Fine, I happened to be an expert at these sorts of games, and I already knew she was not.
My sensual smile became genuine as I leant against the dresser and crossed my arms over my chest.
‘I will make a deal with you,Principessa,’ I said, inspired.
She nodded, the wary tension in her expression encouraging me. She might win the battle, but she would never win the war.
