by Kim Lawrence
When he loosed her hands to cup one quivering peak she tangled her fingers in his dark hair, pushing through the ebony strands still damp from their recent exertions to cradle his skull and hold him against her.
They stayed in his hair when he lifted his head and grinned down at her.
‘Also there is no point trying to hide from me in a bed this small.’
The bed was vast but she let it pass. ‘I wasn’t trying to hide,’ she protested.
He arched an ironic brow, making her eyes slide guiltily from his.
‘I was cold.’
‘Cold?’ Emilio laid his hand possessively on the soft feminine curve of her stomach. Megan started and trembled at his touch, shifting restlessly under his hand, but not wanting it to go away.
‘You do not feel cold to me.’ He leaned across her, sealing his mouth to hers as he kissed her, and he ran his hands down the silky skin of her thighs, wresting a whimper from her throat.
‘Not cold at all.’
Eyes closed, her head fell to one side as he began to nuzzle her neck.
Emilio’s head lifted, but his eyes remained riveted on her raspberry-pink thrusting nipples, wet and gleaming from his recent ministrations, dark against the milk-pale skin of her perfect breasts. With the utmost reluctance he clenched his jaw and tore his gaze free of temptation.
‘We have things to talk about,’ Megan heard him say with some unease.
She opened her eyes. ‘I thought you were a man of action, not words.’ Would the challenge successfully divert him?
It didn’t. Emilio saw through her tactics. ‘Nice try,’ he admired sardonically. ‘And I am tempted,’ he admitted with a smile that made her heart flip. The smile was absent as he added in a voice stripped of the sexy smokiness, ‘But we will talk. Your economy with words and my actions could have hurt you.’
He stopped and moved a hand across his face. She was shocked when his hand fell away to see his face contorted in a grimace of self-loathing.
‘Did hurt you,’ he added sombrely.
Megan was shaken by the dark anguish she saw reflected in the shadows of his incredible eyes. ‘No …’ she protested. ‘No, you didn’t.’ The memory of the moment of pain had already faded, supplanted by the incredible pleasure that had followed.
The muscles in Emilio’s brown throat stood out corded with tension as he dragged a hand jerkily across the surface of his dark hair, making it stand up spikily in front.
It was, she decided, a good look on him, but then any look was good on Emilio. God, but I am so besotted.
‘Do not lie to me, Megan,’ he rasped throatily as he caught her jaw between his long fingers and angled her face to him.
Megan struggled to judge his mood; his enigmatic expression gave nothing away. ‘I’m not—’
‘You have never been with a man before.’ The shock still fresh in his mind, Emilio struggled to frame the words. ‘It was your first time.’
If he pursued the theme too far Megan knew there was a real danger of her revealing more than was sensible.
The last thing she wanted was Emilio knowing that she had only been a virgin, not because she was virtuous or even that she had major hang-ups about sex, but because … God, how could she admit, without sounding incredibly old-fashioned, that she’d made a choice early on not to have sex outside marriage?
Megan had simply never been able to imagine being intimate with a man she didn’t have a strong emotional connection with.
The man she slept with would be the man she fell in love with, and as the only man she’d ever fallen for had been married she had accepted it might never happen and she was fine with that, or so she had told herself. There was more to life than sex and there were few things worse in life, it seemed to her, than sex with the wrong man.
There had been a lot of wrong men for her mother, a parade of ‘uncles’ whom Megan could recall appearing and disappearing at intervals. The eternal optimist, Clare Smith had always embarked on a new relationship believing it was the one, only to end up crushed and heartbroken when things fell apart.
As she got older and recognised the destructive pattern Megan, not sharing her mother’s optimism, had begun to dread seeing a new man appear. Some of the youthful anger she felt had been aimed at her mother; she wished very much now she had been more understanding.
‘Why do you need a man?’ she had yelled. ‘Why can’t I be enough? ‘
The stricken look on her mother’s face had stayed with her and she had never had an opportunity to retract it. Her mother had slipped off a crowded pavement at rush hour and under the wheels of a passing bus.
A hissing expletive left Emilio’s lips as, face dark with wrath, he stared at her, the muscle in his lean cheek spasmodically clenching and unclenching.
He looked ready to implode.
Megan struggled to respond to the blunt statement of her virginal status without blushing and failed. ‘Guilty as charged,’ she joked in an attempt to play the subject down.
Megan bit her lip. So much for lightening the mood!
‘You think this a joke?’ he grated. ‘Your first time should be special.’
Megan stared and thought, And he thinks it wasn’t?
‘I may not have used the word,’ she told him in a voice that shook with the emotions she was struggling to suppress, ‘but if you’re talking special as in unique and outstandingly brilliant, I do seem to recall saying something along those lines, quite loudly actually.’
‘You’re blushing, all over.’ The discovery appeared to distract and amuse him, though a moment later he was looking darkly sombre once more as he picked up a theme that Megan found acutely uncomfortable.
‘Your first time only happens the once, and … and I …’ His face contorted with a grimace of self-disgust, he broke off and dragged a hand down his jaw. Hearing the sound in his head, he felt as if he’d never be able to forget her sharp cry. His voice dropped as he accused, ‘You wept.’
Silently, and he had held her shaking body and felt like a total animal.
Megan laid a tentative hand on his shoulder; his muscles felt rock-hard and rigid. ‘It wasn’t because you hurt me,’ she protested, stunned by his reading of the situation.
‘If I had known—’ His jaw clenched; the knowledge that he had hurt her felt like a blade sliding between his ribs. ‘But how could you be … Why?’
Megan groaned and scanned his face. ‘You’re not going to let this go, are you?’
He looked at her as though she had just announced she was actually a Martian. ‘Let it go!’ He’d waited two years for that moment and when it had happened he had blown it! When he thought of the way he had … ‘Por Dios! I think you owe me an explanation,’ he announced grimly.
Her eyes slid guiltily from his. I’m yours and I love you. I actually pretty much always have, was a fairly accurate summing-up of the situation, but she doubted it would go down too well.
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you—?’
Her voice tight with humiliation, Megan cut across his incensed demand. ‘You didn’t seem all that interested in conversation at the time.’
The line of colour across the angle of Emilio’s cheekbones deepened as their glances clashed. Even now the air between them hummed with a sexual tension that was almost tangible. Despite the intensity of their lovemaking it had not even taken the edge off his hunger for her.
He did not need reminding that his actions had been ruled by his own selfish carnal desire, a carnal desire that after two years of denial had been stripped to its primitive and most basic form.
It had been a point of pride with Emilio that he had never been a victim of his hormones. He had certainly never lost control in bed before, and now the one time he should have shown restraint with a woman, when he should have been gentle, he had snapped. His relentless, ravenous need for her had made him utterly blind to her inexperience until that last moment.
There must have been clues? How had he missed them?
Missed the opportunity to make her initiation special.
‘And you were not acting like a virgin,’ corrosive shame made him retort defensively.
‘Know a lot about virgins, do you?’
His eyes narrowed as his eyes drifted to her tender lips still swollen from his kisses. ‘Nothing, as it happens,’ he said, thinking it seemed he also knew even less about women, or this one at least.
‘You’re making a big thing of nothing. Being a virgin isn’t like having a contagious disease. It’s not obligatory to go into isolation.’ Her mouth settled into a mutinous line of defiance as she tried to hide her hurt. ‘I’m sorry you feel cheated and short-changed but I’m not about to say sorry.’
His brows lifted. ‘What are you talking about now? Cheated …?’ he asked irritably. ‘You are not making sense.’
Face scrunched in an effort to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, she lifted her chin and blinked hard.
‘Well, so sorry,’ she drawled, ‘if I’ve lost my edge of clinical objectivity, but I’ve never been in this situation before.’
‘And you think I have?’
‘Yes, I get it, you don’t need to spell it out.’ She had been slow but the penny had finally dropped. She knew why he was acting this way. ‘You thought you were getting someone who knew what she was doing in the bedroom and instead—’ she broke off to give a loud sniff and passed a hand across her suspiciously bright eyes as she gulped ‘—instead you got me.’
She heard the unattractive, self-pitying whine in her voice and shook her head, mumbling, ‘Even you could not have got it perfect your first time.’
He probably had. Megan closed her eyes, hating the woman he had got it right with.
Torn between frustration and tenderness, Emilio levered himself into a sitting position with the fluid grace that typified all his actions.
‘Have I got this right?’ he asked, placing one hand beside her head as he looked down at her. ‘You think I feel short-changed? Short-changed?’ he repeated, shaking his head as he added something, not appearing to realise he had slipped into his native tongue, and laughed. ‘The way your mind works, querida, is a constant source of amazement to me. Listen, you may not value what you gave me highly, but I do.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MEGAN’S eyes slid slowly up from the expanse of golden chest she was staring at. ‘You value? ‘
She parroted the words like someone speaking a foreign language.
Emilio nodded and framed her face between his long brown fingers, smoothing the strands of hair spread around her face from her brow. ‘I am your first.’ The sheer impossibility of it still shook him. ‘Do you know how that makes me feel?’
Her eyes darted from side to side, refusing to meet his. ‘Annoyed? ‘
‘Privileged.’
She froze at the throaty rebuttal, her eyes heavy, lids half closing as he touched her cheek. The tremor she felt in his fingers as they brushed slowly across the downy curve shocked her.
Her lips, soft and warm and so incredibly sweet, trembled under his as he kissed her softly.
‘And in shock,’ he admitted, pulling back. ‘I still don’t understand how it is possible.’
Arm curved above her head, she watched as he propped his broad shoulders against the carved headboard. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the tangled strands off her hot face with one hand and, anchoring the sheet over her breasts with the other, pulled herself up into a kneeling position.
‘Because you thought I slept my way through college?’
The suggestion drew a dark frown from Emilio. ‘No, because you’ve been living with a man for two years.’ And though he had buried it deep, the knowledge had driven him out of his mind. He took a deep breath, let the anger pass through him and released it; despite a lot of practice he had never quite perfected the technique.
‘A man!’ Megan sank deeper into confusion.
‘All right, live-in lover, boyfriend, whatever he was to you.’
Megan sat back on her heels, lifting a hand to balance herself as the mattress shifted. She was totally at sea. Live-in lover? She had barely had a date!
‘What are you talking about? I haven’t been living with a man!’ She stopped, her eyes widening in comprehension, before sliding back down in the bed with a laugh and a billowing of silken sheets. ‘You’re talking about Josh?’ She chuckled.
He arched a brow, his focus drifting as his eyes were drawn to the outline of her body against the silk. She gave a sinuous wriggle. All he had to do was reach out and lift the sheet … He swallowed as he struggled to banish the image of her smooth, naked body from his head.
The effort made sweat break out along his upper lip.
‘There were others?’ He immediately recognised the irrationality, given the topic under discussion, of his jealous question. More? There hadn’t been any!
‘What is this about?’
Emilio looked down at her lying there, looking like a wild-haired wanton angel, and felt a pulse of desire throb through his body. ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. This
Josh, he—’
Megan’s brows twitched into a perplexed line. Her fingers restlessly tugged at the sheet. ‘What is this thing you have about Josh? You sound as if you don’t like him.’
‘I have no thing about Josh. I’m sure he was perfect, but …’
‘Pretty much,’ she admitted. It was a view shared by all her female friends. They had all bemoaned the fact that the perfect men were always gay.
The smiling insertion drew a dark frown from Emilio. ‘You lived with the man!’
His accusing manner and bewildering interest in the subject of her ex-flatmate was beginning to make Megan feel angry. ‘It’s hardly a crime to share a flat with someone and I’m not on trial,’ she added, growing more bewildered by the second—his condemnatory attitude. ‘What has living with Josh got to do with anything?’
‘You have been living with the man for two years. What am I to think you spend your time doing? Playing Scrabble? Por Dios!’ His upper lip curled in a derisive sneer as he shook his dark head slowly from side to side. It was inexplicable to him that any man could live under the same roof as Megan for two hours and not make love to her—this man had spent two years!
She stopped, her startled stare flying to his face as the penny finally dropped. ‘Josh—my boyfriend!’
‘What was he waiting for—your wedding night?’ Emilio growled.
The question touched a nerve with Megan. ‘And would that be so weird?’ she asked him sharply.
Emilio stared at her. ‘In one word—yes.’
‘Well, call me weird but actually that was my plan up until an hour or so ago.’
It turned out it was easy to have lofty principles when there was no temptation. Not that she regretted her change of heart for a millisecond.
He swore under his breath.
‘Well, I don’t expect you to understand,’ she conceded with a sleepy yawn. Her time clock had to be seriously skewed. ‘Look, the fact is it’s true that I didn’t ever plan having sex before marriage, but that’s not the reason I hadn’t slept with Josh. I didn’t sleep with Josh because I am really not his type.’
Emilio frowned skeptically. To his mind Megan was every man’s type.
‘I mean really not his type.’
Emilio stiffened. ‘You’re saying …?’
Megan nodded, amused by the look of amazement on his face. Propping her chin on her hands, she shook her head and teased, ‘For a smart man you can be awfully slow sometimes.’
Emilio exhaled a long, slow breath. It whistled through his clenched teeth before he framed a grim smile. ‘It certainly looks that way.’
‘I really miss Josh.’
A few minutes ago this wistful statement would have roused Emilio to blind fury. Now he was able to offer a sympathetic smile and murmur, ‘Gay?’ Just to doublecheck the facts.
‘Yes, my perfect flatmate was gay. He has gone to d
o aid work overseas. Josh is lovely. You’d really like him.’
She chattered on, blissfully unaware of the thoughts going through the head of the man beside her.
Gay! The guy he had spent a year being jealous of, twelve months torturing himself imagining the other man with Megan, and the guy was gay.
Did irony get any darker than that?
‘Emilio?’
The questioning lilt in her voice roused him from his bitter reflections.
He rolled towards her.
‘How did you know I shared a flat with Josh?’
‘Philip must have mentioned it and I assumed.’
Rachel nodded. ‘That must be it,’ she agreed as she leaned across him, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest as she stroked his cheek. ‘Wait until I tell Josh in my next letter.’
‘Nobody writes letters,’ he said, tangling his fingers in her hair.
‘I do. There’s something about putting a fountain pen to paper that’s more personal,’ she mused.
‘Nobody saves themselves for their wedding night either.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I don’t expect you to propose, Emilio. Marriage is not meant for men like you.’
She blinked in bewilderment as she found herself exiled from his arms. She turned her sleepy stare on Emilio, who was sitting upright in bed with his arms folded across his chest. He looked magnificent and inexplicably furious.
With a resigned sigh she pushed her hair back from her face and propped her chin on the heel of her hand. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘What do you know about men like me? And what exactly would I be incapable of understanding?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to generalise,’ she soothed.
‘But now you have—’
‘I’m not judging,’ she promised earnestly. ‘And I’m sure you did love Rosanna, but you said yourself that being married didn’t stop you from feeling sexually attracted to other women, and I’m sure most men are, but they don’t act on it. You did.’ The worst torture in the world, it seemed to Megan, would be to watch the man you loved cheat on you. ‘You obviously tried not to be unfaithful.’