CHAPTER NINE
“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT this?” Claudia murmured, as the car slowed to a stop.
Beside her, Stavros was his cynical self. “Wanting me to pull out?”
Her cheeks flushed at how easily he could read through her. “I don’t particularly care,” she lied. “Only there’s a lot of press here. Aren’t you worried about the damage it will do to your reputation? Being seen with me?”
“My reputation has seen worse than you,” he promised darkly. “Stop fighting with me, Claudia. No matter how much we both enjoy it, this isn’t the place. Smile.”
His driver opened their door and Claudia stepped out first, elegant in a way that was simply a product of who she was rather than anything she’d ever learned. Stavros was straight behind her, a hand curved around her waist, holding her close to him.
God, he was handsome. Handsome in jeans, handsome in anything, but like this? In a crisp tuxedo that was molded to his skin, with his chin covered in stubble and his hair styled into a semblance of order?
She ached for him.
And ignored it.
Hell, it made her want to ignore him. “Come on then,” she muttered, reserving her smile for the camera lenses pointed her way.
“Claudia! Claudia! Over here! Have you ditched Lord Pennington?”
He stiffened against her side.
“Or did he ditch you? Couldn’t keep up?”
Stavros’s fingers dug into her hips and he lowered his head on the pretense of kissing her cheek. “You let them speak to you like this?”
“That’s their job,” she snapped, her smile not dropping for a second.
“They are turning you into their sport.”
Claudia’s heart throbbed and she skidded her eyes to his, her smile dropping for barely a second. But it did drop, and she wondered at what kind of sadist she was to be here with a man like this.
With effort, she regained her composure and gave one final wave to the assembled photographers, using it as an opportunity to free herself from Stavros’s touch. The moment they entered the hotel, she was caught up with other guests, and able to shirk any connection to the man. It was not so easy to put him from her mind, but she did at least succeed in putting distance between them. They rode in the same elevator but she spoke to a couple of friends. When the doors opened, he was beside her once more, his arm around her waist.
Staking his claim? Or warning her to behave?
Claudia didn’t care which. She retrieved a glass of champagne from the passing tray held by a waiter and she clutched the drink to her chest as though it were her lifeline.
The turn-out was exceptional. The elegant ballroom at the top of the city high rise was at capacity. Champagne was flowing, one of the country’s most famous singers was crooning jazz Christmas songs, and everyone was donating.
Every year, the committee came up with a different way to fundraise. Beyond the cost of tickets, there had been charity auctions, competitions, raffles, all sorts of initiatives aimed at getting people to put their hands in their pockets and donate.
This year, they’d opted for something a little more unique. Enormous bird cages had been suspended from the ceiling and burlesque dancers stood in each, moving in time to the music, glamorous, beautiful, striking and captivating. But they only danced so long as money was being put into the coffers beneath the cages. It had been controversial at first, but ultimately, it was a little bit of fun.
And yes, the press attention was going to be brilliant.
Claudia skimmed her eyes over the room, a sense of accomplishment buoying her, filling her with relief and pleasure.
She was good at this. She was right to feel proud.
“Ah, darling. We are so thrilled you’ve come out of hiding.” The high-pitched voice called Claudia’s attention. She pretended not to notice the way Stavros stiffened beside her. She hadn’t dared look his way since they’d entered the ballroom five minutes earlier.
She wasn’t sure what he’d make of their fundraising methods but she suspected he’d heartily disapprove.
“Margaret,” Claudia smiled, relaxing for the first time all night. She kissed the older woman’s cheek. “Everything is perfect.”
“All thanks to you,” Margaret said. “You really are a genius.”
Pink flooded Claudia’s cheeks and she shook her head slowly. “Not at all. We’re a committee. Everyone had a hand in tonight.”
“But the details, the press, the glamour.” She leaned closer. “The guest list! I have counted four actors and six rock stars.” Margaret, in her sixties, lifted a gloved hand and waved it in front of her face. “Speaking of which,” she drawled in her aristocratic way. “I recognize you.”
Claudia lifted her gaze to Stavros’s face, and it was as though she was seeing him for the first time. Of course Margaret knew who Stavros was. He wasn’t just the thorn in her side, the guardian she’d never wanted. He was a renowned businessman, CEO of Aresteides Holdings, at the helm of an empire that spanned media interests, transportation, textiles. Everything.
“Stavros,” Claudia couldn’t keep her impatience from her tone. “This is my friend, Lady FitzHerbert. Margaret, my …” she floundered, losing her concentration for the moment as she struggled to find a way to describe Stavros.
“Claudia and I are old family friends,” he offered smoothly, but his fingers on Claudia’s hip ranged up and down, sending little arrows of awareness through her that were most definitely unwelcome.
“Oh! I never knew that,” Margaret said with obvious surprise. “You’ve never mentioned a connection to the Aresteides family before.”
“Haven’t I?” Claudia asked, knowing very well she hadn’t. One look at Stavros showed that he knew the exact same thing. His lips were curled with mocking amusement and a frisson danced down her spine. Beneath the expensive fabric of her dress, her nipples strained in expectation.
“No, dear. Anyway,” Margaret laughed, and the diamond choker she wore shifted with the movements, sending a raindrop of lights through the room. “You’re on.”
“Right.” Claudia sipped her champagne and then pasted a bright smile on her face, handing the flute to Stavros. “I have to go.”
“I’ll see you afterwards,” he murmured, and there was nothing in the simple statement to indicate that he meant it as anything other than an innocuous comment. Yet her heart throbbed and her abdomen squeezed.
“Fine,” she snapped, then moved through the crowd, keeping her attention locked to the front of the room so as to avoid having to stop and speak to anyone. A microphone with Swarovski crystals stood on top of a table and she lifted it up, catching the singer’s eye and nodded.
The singer eased to a stop, leaving only a din in the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, her eyes sweeping the room and landing squarely on Stavros’s face. The way he was looking at her made her skin prickle. He was staring at her with the kind of intensity that could burn her blood. He looked at her as though she was the only woman he’d ever wanted. She dragged her eyes away, trying not to be distracted by the fact he was there.
It didn’t work.
She delivered her speech, laughing at the moment she knew to be funny, smiling at the assembled guests, but her eyes kept colliding with Stavros’s as though pulled by magnetic force, and by the end, there was a screeching noise in her brain, begging her to go and kiss him.
Need was a physical response running through her.
The crowd broke into impassioned applause as she finished.
Stavros didn’t. He simply stared, his expression impossible to read, his body stiff as a board.
She had no idea what he was thinking, and she hated that it was all she cared about in that moment.
It was not so easy to avoid speaking to people after the speech. She had dozens of guests come to her, and she made a point of speaking to them properly, of at least appearing to give them her full attention, even as she was aware of Stavros the whole time. She was aware of him when a glamorous blonde went to speak to him, her hand curled in the crook of his arm, her eyes practically eating him up. She was aware of him when he was alone, watching her, his eyes on her back as strong and as powerful as if he were touching her.
And finally, she was aware of him when he prowled towards her, something like determination firing in his eyes.
“Miss La Roche,” he murmured. “Nice speech.”
“Thank you.” It was a stiff response that made no sense given the way she’d been mentally undressing him for the last half hour. “I trust you can see why this charity means so much to me.”
“Oh, I do.”
She frowned, not sure she understood the tone of his words. His accent was thicker than usual. She blinked up at him, a slight frown smudged across her face.
“In fact,” he surprised her then by putting his hands on her hips. “I have a donation to make.”
“Well,” Claudia said, willing her body not to react to his proximity. “You can see one of the bursars about that.”
“Oh, it’s not so simple.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
He laughed, a sound that sent shards of desire scraping along her spine. “Because you know me?” The husky question filled her blood with glue. It seemed to stick inside of her so she was conscious of its weight as it drummed through her body.
He removed one hand and she held her breath in silent rejection of the fact that he might be pulling away from her. But he wasn’t. He stayed close, so that when he lifted something out of the top pocket of his tuxedo his hand brushed against her breast and she stifled a noise of awareness.
Stifled or not, his eyes simmered when they connected to hers as though she’d moaned loudly. He knew how she felt. Because he felt the same?
“Dance with me, and this is yours.”
Her fingers shook as they took the paper from his hand and unfolded it, the familiar fear that always assailed her at moments like this flushing her skin. It was a cheque. She gathered it was from Stavros. While she struggled with words, numbers she could recognize, and she recognized the number of zeros on this cheque.
“For the charity?” She asked urgently, missing the way his eyes knitted together for an instant, at the strange question. After all, the charity’s name was clearly printed at the top of the envelope.
“Nai.”
“Stavros,” she gasped, shaking her head. “It’s too much.”
“It’s a good cause,” he shrugged. “I can afford it.”
“But it’s…”
He lifted a finger to her lips, silencing her instantly. “It’s worth it.”
Her heart turned over and she closed her eyes for a moment. “One dance?” Her eyes locked to his.
The thumping of inevitability beat in both their hearts.
“One dance.”
Claudia stared up at him, into his eyes that were so dark they were almost black, into eyes that seemed to see straight through her, and she nodded. Her mouth was too dry to form words.
As if he’d planned it, seconds later, the singer swapped from the up-tempo Christmas carol, pausing for a moment before the unmistakable piano beginning of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas began to play.
“Here?” Claudia rasped.
“Here. Now.” He pulled her closer, looping his hands low at her back, moving his hips so that she moved with him. Slowly, as though she might get burned, Claudia lifted her hands up, linking her fingers behind his neck, letting her fingers give into temptation and stray to his hair at the nape.
“How did you get into this?”
“Margaret spoke to me about the charity years ago,” she said, letting her head dip closer to his chest.
“I mean organizing fundraisers. You seem very good at it.”
“Thank you,” she acknowledged the compliment with a nod of her head.
“I had no idea you were so actively philanthropic.”
Claudia’s eyes darted to his. “Because you thought I was too busy being a disgraceful heiress to look beyond the headlines.”
“Perhaps,” he surprised her by conceding. “I look beyond them now. I see you are not what I thought.”
She drew in a sharp breath, completely unprepared for his admission. “You do?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
She swallowed, unable to express the gladness that was rolling through her.
“So you’ll let me come back to London? To my own home?”
He pressed a finger to the base of her chin, lifting her to face him. He scanned her for a moment, his eyes moving left to right, reading her features, and then he smiled. A dazzling smile that made her stomach lurch. “It isn’t what you want.”
“Like hell it’s not,” she muttered, but the rejoinder lacked ferocity. Was he right? Did she want to go back to Barnwell? To spend Christmas with him?
She flicked her eyes away, focusing on the crowds milling around them, dancing, talking, laughing.
She felt him sigh. “I still wish to protect you from the media’s intrusion into your life. And I am less keen than you can imagine to return you to Arthur Pennington’s claws.”
“Claws?” She responded with a laugh. “If you knew Arthur, you’d know he’s the least vicious person on earth.”
“Irrelevant.” He brought her closer to his body, moving his lips lower, teasing her by speaking against her neck. “You are mine, remember?”
She jerked back in the circle of his arms, her eyes frightened when they met his. She was terrified of how much she wanted that to be true.
“Be mine,” he amended. “Tonight.”
It was a statement of intent but there was a question in it, too. She stared up at him and mentally, she lost her footing altogether. Or did the earth crack open and swallow her into its molten core? She couldn’t have said. She knew only that nothing made sense any longer.
“I…”
“Tonight,” he groaned, lifting his mouth and pressing a brief, hot kiss against her temple. “Let me show you how it should have been.”
His eyes held hers and they were as swarmed by emotion as her heart felt.
She could hardly speak. She couldn’t think.
“I hate that I want you.” It was a grim admission. “I know this is wrong. For so many reasons, I should be walking as far away from you as I can get.” He shook his head. “But I can’t. I don’t want to.”
She bit down on her lip and knew that she wouldn’t be the one to say ‘no’. Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged her away from what they were about to do.
So she nodded. A simple, quick gesture that sealed their fates. For that night, at least.
*
It was snowing when they stepped out of the lobby. His car was third one back in the line of waiting cars, but Claudia was in no rush. Walking beside Stavros, knowing what they’d agreed to, feeling little petals of snowflake kiss her exposed flesh, filled her with a delicious sense of anticipation, knowledge that fulfillment was inevitable making her insides slick with moist heat.
He mistook her little shiver for something else altogether, and slipped out of his suit jacket. “Here.” His word was husky. Was he feeling the same pull of need that was ripping through her?
He placed it around her slender shoulders, and she looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat as their eyes met.
“This is crazy,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
He nodded. “I know.” They reached his car and the driver opened the door. Claudia slid in ahead of Stavros, then he joined her on the seat beside hers. “I shouldn’t want you like this. You are too young. You are my ward. I am entrusted with your care.” He lifted a finger to her cheek and traced it down her flesh, lower, to the gentle skin of her neck. “And none of that matters right now.”
“No,” she whispered huskily.
They drove in silence – a silence that hummed and buzzed with anticipation. The car slid through London, and the snow grew heavier as they went, so that by the time the car pulled up at The Maychester, there was a light covering on the ground.
The smile that spread across Claudia’s face was as spontaneous as it was beautiful. She lifted her hands, palm-side up, catching little tiny snowflakes on her fingertips. Stavros watched her, not the snow.
“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,” she said, half to him, half to herself. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Just what I am thinking.” The husky admission drew her attention. He was staring at her as though he’d never seen her before. He moved closer, allowing the driver to shut the car door. “You are an angel.”
She expelled a sigh. “No.” And she pushed a frivolous note into her voice. “I just really like snow.”
“And Christmas,” he teased, taking a cue from her.
“Uh huh.”
“I bet you were spoiled as a child,” he laughed. “Dozens of gifts beneath the tree, all uniform in their matching wrapping paper?”
She shook her head, a smile on her face that hid the hurt in her heart. “Not at all.”
“Ah, I can see it now. Little Claudia waking up, rubbing her eyes and seeing a mountain of presents.”
She stifled a sigh. He thought her selfish because she had done everything in her power to create that impression. Apparently he believed it was a product of her upbringing, rather than the defense mechanism it was. “My mother and father didn’t really do much for Christmas,” she hedged.
He frowned. “No?”
“No. Dad was often on tour.” Her smile was dismissive. “It was a great time to sell books.” She shrugged. “And mum never felt there was much point making a fuss for the two of us.”
She tried to keep the edge of rejection from her voice and suspected she hadn’t quite managed. She didn’t dare look at him, lest she see sympathy on his face. Sympathy that would bring to a halt the plans they’d made earlier.
“So I kind of found my Christmas obsession all on my own.” She blinked up at him, but he was looking straight ahead, his expression unreadable.
The hotel doors swished open and they were in the warmth of the sumptuous foyer, crossing it with an increasing sense of urgency that was mutual.
The lift doors opened after the smallest delay and they were alone. Claudia wanted to kiss him. She wanted to push her body against his, and invite him to take her then and there. She needed to feel him.
She didn’t.
She had no idea how he’d even respond to her if she did that.
The lift drew to a stop on the seventh floor and the doors pinged open. Claudia expelled a breath.
“Phew. I thought for a moment you might be planning a very tacky elevator seduction.”
He angled his head to hers, a sardonic look of amusement on his face. “It did cross my mind, believe me.”
Pleasure kicked inside of her. “What stopped you?”
He laughed, and caught her by the arms, pushing her back against the wall. And he kissed her. A kiss that was life and death all at once. A kiss that was dizzying and made her insides shake and ache and tormented her with its perfection. He kissed her until she could barely breathe and her blood was pounding in her ears and her skin was lifted with goosebumps.
“What stopped me?” He scooped down and picked her up, lifting her over his shoulder. “The fact that if I’d kissed you I wouldn’t have been able to stop.”
A shiver ran down her spine and every single cell in her body reverberated at a new, urgent frequency, full of wanting and longing and need. His hand was wrapped around her legs, and his fingers crept beneath her skirt, holding the soft flesh behind her knees. She made a low grumbling noise of impatience.
“I know.”
He slid the key out of his pocket and ran it across the magnetic panel, then shouldered the door inwards.
“You can put me down now,” she laughed softly.
He didn’t answer. His stride was long as he powered through the suite, to the bedroom that he had claimed. Or, rather, the bedroom that was left after she’d claimed hers.
He placed her on the ground with a gentleness that was at odds with the fact he’d just pushed her against a wall, holding her in place with his body, and kissed her until she saw stars.
A muscle throbbed in the base of his jaw. “Unlike you, I have experience with this,” he said, and Claudia’s eyes clouded over. She didn’t want to think of the myriad women he’d been with before her. Nor how experienced they were – how perfectly able to give pleasure to Stavros.
Her own inadequacies flashed before her like a blinding light.
“I keep telling myself to take it slowly with you. To savour this. To teach you. To show you.” He stepped behind her and his fingers pressed to the gold zipper of her dress, drawing it lower painstakingly slowly, exposing her flesh with every gentle movement. “But I feel like I am the hormonally charged school boy I used to be.”
Relief twisted her gut and a smile played on her lips. “Worried you might not live up to your virile image?”
“Worried I will not be able to give you what you deserve.”
Her heart twisted and she forced herself to be bold. She spun around to face him, the movement dislodging her dress, sliding it lower down her body, exposing her neat breasts. But he wasn’t looking at her body. His eyes were glued to hers.
“I’m not looking for anything beyond tonight,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about what I deserve. This is all that we are. And that’s fine by me.”
His eyes bore into hers and for a moment she thought – hoped – he was going to argue with her. But then, he dropped his mouth to hers, plundering her, kissing her, his tongue an invasion of all of her senses.
She moaned as she arched her back, pushing towards him, and his hands curled around her naked hips, lifting her out of her dress altogether and wrapping her legs around him, as he’d done that day in his office. His fingers ran through her hair, dislodging the pins, pulling it from the bun, so that it fell wild down her back. Claudia kissed him back but she was impatient as well. She wanted to see him.
She needed to see him.
Her fingers found his bow tie and pulled at it, undoing it effortlessly. She dropped it to the floor and then moved to the top button of his shirt as he dropped her back on the bed. He kissed her as she undid each of his buttons, her fingers unsteady yet speedy. One by one, until his shirt parted completely.
“Let me see you,” she demanded huskily, her hands on his chest pushing him up a little.
He smiled down at her, a smile of amusement, as her eyes devoured him, taking in the ridges of his sculpted abdomen and a tattoo that ran across his hip.
μελλοντικό άγνωστο
“What’s this?” She ran her finger over the markings, confident that the alphabet was not English and that she wasn’t revealing her stupidity by asking the question.
“It says mellontikó ágnosto.”
“Meaning?” Her fingers found their way to his belt. She unclasped it and then dropped the belt, before moving to the button of his pants.
“Future unknown,” he said huskily, standing straight and taking over, removing his own pants and leaving them on the floor. He reached for something on the bedside table and she knew what it was even before she saw it.
A condom.
Her heart turned over.
“Did you plan this? Tonight?”
He winked slowly, and it tore through her like a wildfire. “I had hope.”
“I had none.” She stared up at him, her heart racing, her mind uncomprehending.
He stepped out of his underwear, black briefs, and she lifted up onto her elbows, unashamedly staring at him. All of him.
“Would you like me to turn around?” He teased.
She nodded, her throat as dry as the desert. “Slowly.”
He laughed, but did as she said, rotating on the spot to give her the full tour of his naked body. Tan all over, check. Sinew and muscle, check. Tight arse, check. Absolutely ready to go? Apparently.
“My turn.” He held his hands out and she placed hers in them, so that he could easily pull her to standing. Wearing only a lace G-string, she was virtually naked, but still, he slid his fingers into the sides, bending down as he slid the fabric from her body. His fingers grazed her legs and she had to bite down on her lower lip to stop from whimpering.
It was slow and sensual and so full of promise. She could feel moist heat slicking between her legs and she was inexperienced enough to feel embarrassed.
“I’m…”
He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers with something she couldn’t fathom in their rich, tormented depths.
And then he brought his head forward, his mouth pressing against her femininity and she cried out in abject shock and surprise. Feelings that were dwarfed by desire as he ran his tongue along her seam, finding her most sensitive collection of nerves and striking them with his tongue until she was at a fever pitch of hunger.
“You are so wet for me, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said, but the words were swallowed by her crying out. She ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair as his tongue returned to her body. He knew what she needed even when she had no idea, when she couldn’t possibly articulate it. He caught her thighs in his powerful hands and pushed them wider, spreading her legs and lowering her, so that he had full, unfettered access to her body.
And he was unrelenting, as though her orgasm was all he existed for.
She bit down on her lip and silent moans shook her body, she trembled all over until finally a wave of quenching pleasure broke and she cried out, tangling her fingers more tightly in his hair, holding onto him for dear life.
It was the birth of something new within Claudia. An empowerment and a need that were almost in complete contradiction of one another. The pleasure in learning what her body was capable of – and knowing that Stavros alone could stir her to these heights? It was an unreasonable conundrum.
He didn’t give her long to recover from her waves of pleasure. From where he was crouched on the floor, he caught his bowtie in his fingers, and, as he stood, he whispered the fabric over her body, pausing at her nipples and letting it glance, ever so lightly, across her sensitive flesh. At her mouth, he pressed a finger inside her moist lips, just the tip, and she rolled her tongue over it instinctively. His arousal jerked against her belly.
The sense of power grew.
He lifted the bow tie higher, to her eyes, where he held it, wrapping it around her head and securing it with the clip.
“Okay?” He asked, the question hoarse with desire.
She nodded. She wasn’t sure she could speak. She certainly couldn’t see. His mouth founds hers and it was gentle and it was an exploration, a searching of her. She surrendered to him, swaying her body forward, feeling his closeness and taking strength from it.
He kissed her harder then, lifting her up and carrying her back to the bed, but this time when he lay her down he came with her, his powerful frame over hers, his legs straddling her, his mouth barely lifting from hers.
He wanted to take her. He wanted to drive into her fast, then slowly, but first, he needed to kiss her breasts, her stomach, her shoulder. He wanted to kiss every square inch of her until she was begging him to take her.
He dragged his mouth lower, between her breasts, his tongue running a line down her front, all the way to her naval. She sucked in a shaking breath and arched her back, her hands reaching down to his shoulders, kneading his flesh.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, smiling as he moved back to her breast and ran his tongue over the soft underside.
“Thank you.” A soft murmur, and his smile grew. She was barely listening. He brought his mouth back to her neck, flicking the pulse point there and then, he hovered above her, staring down at her, taking in every detail of her.
“Are you okay?” His hesitation surprised him.
“Uh huh.” She smiled and something inside of him shifted, a weight, sliding from his gut and lower.
He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and then he brought his tip to her womanhood, gently probing her, watching her face. She held her breath and he ached to take away her fear. He kissed her once more, slowly, as he entered her, and he tasted her moan.
He paused when he was completely sheathed in her moist depths, giving her a moment to adjust to the strange newness of his possession, and then he shifted, moving deeper, and pulling out, kissing her, letting his fingers run over her as he stirred her to new heights. Slowly this time, not like in his office when desperate passion had overcome him.
He felt her muscles squeezing, desire slicking her, and he reached down, loosening the bowtie from her eyes.
“I want to see you,” he explained huskily.
And he watched as she fell apart. He watched as her face flushed and her eyes rolled back in her head, as she bit down on her lip and she scrunched up her face, experiencing the pleasure in every nerve in her body.
He kissed her then, and she kissed him back, pushing up on her elbows and knotting her fingers in his hair, pulling him down to her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and then she moved, rolling her hips, taunting him, teasing him, driving him dangerously close to explosion.
“Claudia,” he murmured, breaking the kiss.
“What? Am I doing something wrong?”
His laugh was a sharp dismissal. “You are doing everything perfectly.”
She sucked in a breath and feminine pride filled her up, making her glow from within.
“This is amazing,” she whispered.
He laughed. “You are definitely good for my ego.”
She couldn’t respond. He moved deeper and she moaned, her fingertips digging into his shoulders, her eyes locked to his as her pleasure reached fever pitch once more. This time, he rode the wave with her, breathing in time with her, holding her as she fell apart and exploding into her, losing himself in her sweetness and her responsiveness.
He held her, and he waited for her breathing to slow, and then he propped on his elbows, looking down at her. A fine bead of perspiration ran across her forehead and he kissed it, tasting her saltiness, worshipping her.
“That should have been your first time.”
She nodded, not capable of speech. The sting of tears was in her eyes and her throat but they were tears borne of happiness and satiation.
“Thank you.” A hoarse, thick acknowledgement of gratitude. “I’m glad you were my first.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t three years ago,” he said with a gruff laugh.
“Would that have been so bad?” She murmured, lifting a hand up and cupping his stubbled face.
“It would have been wrong,” he said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. His laugh was uncomfortable. “This probably still is.”
Claudia shook her head. “No. This is perfect.” Just this one night, she reminded herself. She turned her head to the side, expelling a soft sigh. “Look!” She propped up on one elbow, bringing her face just an inch or so from his. “It’s still snowing.”
“So it is.” He shifted a little pulling out of her and sitting up straighter. “How have you never done this, Claudia?”
She sat up beside him, her eyes locked to his. “Is it so hard to believe?”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“Why? How old were you?”
“When I first slept with someone?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Younger.”
“How young?”
He laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Does it matter?”
“What? Were you like eight or something?”
Another laugh. “No.” He stared at her long and hard. “I was fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” She blinked at him. “Fifteen? You were a kid.”
“A boy,” he grinned. “What can I say? I was very interested,” he rolled his fingertip down her breast, and flicked her nipple. “In the female anatomy.”
“I’ll bet you were,” she drawled.
“It’s normal to be curious,” he said with a shrug. “Which is why I find it hard to believe you haven’t been with other men.”
“You know why,” she said, standing up a little self-consciously, and moving to the wardrobe. There was a toweling robe inside. She lifted it out and wrapped it around herself, cinching it at the waist.
“Do I?” He was glorious in his state of nudity. He stood, like a Greek god and strode into the bathroom. When he emerged a moment later, the condom was gone and he had wrapped a towel around his waist, and she bemoaned the covering of his flesh despite the fact she had done the same thing.
Claudia moved closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, staring down into her eyes.
“Tell me,” he prompted.
She held her breath. Dared she confess that he had ruined her for all men? That even as she was processing the death of her father, she was coming to terms with her burgeoning sexuality and that all her youthful passions had been ignited by the appearance of Stavros Aresteides?
“I went to an all-girls school,” she hedged. “I barely left the campus. When would I have had a chance to hook up with anyone?”
“Hook up?” His face flickered with disdain. “But you must have had dates? Interest?”
“Well, yeah,” she grimaced. “I don’t know, okay? It’s not a big deal, is it?”
The silence was barbed. He might have wanted to push her, but he let it drop. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her lips, just a brief kiss, and then straightened.
“Hungry?”
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure she was. “Why are you going to cook?” She was joking, but he surprised her by nodding.
“Or at least order a perfect room service.”