But first she had to get dressed. There was no way she could face the arrogant, manipulative swine while just wearing the blue robe that clung to her figure rather too tightly, the material so well-worn in places that in a certain light it was practically transparent. And she had nothing at all on underneath.
A fact of which Santos, of course, was only too well aware. Alexa felt a hot tide of embarrassment flood her body at the thought of how easily he had been able to do exactly as he pleased with her. How he had had no problem at all in enticing her into bed. If she was strictly honest with herself, then she had to admit that she had practically done all the work for him. She had flung herself into his arms, into his bed …
OK, into her bed, taking him with her. She had given herself to him without a thought. He must have thought that all his birthdays had come at once. And that his ruthless plan for a marriage of convenience had worked so perfectly.
Well, she’d see about that, she told herself as she made her way upstairs to dress. If there was any way out of this she was going to find it. Santos Cordero had to learn that he couldn’t just walk in and take over people’s lives. Someone had to stand up to him …
But why, oh why did it have to be her?
She wished that she could have a shower, longed to stand under the hottest water and scrub her body hard in the vain hope that she could erase the memory of his touch, the imprint of his caresses and his kisses that she felt she wore like a brand that had been seared into her skin, marking her out as his like some slave girl of long ago who was her master’s property for life. But she didn’t dare to linger, knowing that if she stayed up here too long then Santos would get curious, and then impatient, and she feared that he would then come upstairs, following her to find out just what she was doing.
He might arrive while she was still dressing and, even if she had the time to pull on her clothes before he arrived, just the thought of being in her bedroom, with the bedcovers still tangled from their passion of the night before, the sheets and pillowcases still holding the imprint of his body, the scent of his skin, was almost more than she could bear.
And she had thought that she loved him!
Her own foolish thoughts came back to haunt her as she made her way back down the stairs. How could she have believed herself in love with a man who manipulated people in this way? Who effectively bought a wife without ever offering her any sort of emotional commitment?
A man who, when marriage to one wife had not materialised, simply turned to the next person on the list of prospective partners?
‘I’ve come for you …’ Well, she’d see about that.
Outside the kitchen door, Alexa drew in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and lifting her head, tilting her chin defiantly before she marched into the room.
And knew immediately that she was only fooling herself if she tried to deny her feelings for this man. The sudden clenching of her heart at the sight of him where he sat at the small dining table, his black hair still crisply damp from his shower, his blue shirt hanging loose over the waistband of his jeans, his long legs stretched out and his bare feet crossed at the ankles, told its own story. There was no way on earth that she could deny the way she felt about this man. Feelings that at any other time would have led her to accept oh, so willingly the idea of marriage to him.
Feelings that she must fight to suppress, to put right out of her mind if she was to be able to cope with the situation she now found herself in.
‘At last,’ Santos greeted her casually.
‘I wanted to get dressed.’ Alexa’s tone was stiff with the effort she was making to control it. ‘I feel better like this.’
The look he slanted her from those pale eyes, skimming over her appearance in a clean pair of denim jeans and a soft green sweater, questioned her need to get dressed at all so clearly that she could almost guess at exactly what he was thinking. Why put on any clothes when he had every intention of taking them all off again very soon? that expression said, and determinedly Alexa set herself to ignore it. They were not going to be heading for bed at any time in the near future—never again if she had her way. When her weak and traitorous body cried out in protest and her eyes drank in the sight of him, long and lean and whipcord-strong as he lounged at the table, she forced herself back under control with a vicious effort and lifted her chin a touch higher, defying him to put his thoughts into words.
But Santos either didn’t notice or decided not to comment if he did.
‘Your coffee’s over there …’
He waved a hand in the direction of a mug that stood on the nearby worktop.
‘I poured it when I heard you on your way back down so it’s quite fresh.’