It sickened him to know she could be right.
You are responsible.
Despite the playboy image he had cultivated—an image he exulted in—Pepe couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so reckless.
Actually, he could remember. The last time he’d made love to a woman without using a condom he’d been eighteen. Young and believing himself to be in love. A lethal combination.
It hadn’t been a conscious decision to enter Cara unsheathed. At the time it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Not that he’d been thinking properly. He’d been reeling from the discovery that she was—had been—a virgin. He’d also been struggling to understand everything going on inside him.
Usually he would make love to a woman and get back into bed, have a fun conversation, drink a glass of wine or whatever, maybe make love again and then leave without a second thought or a backward glance. He’d never got back into bed with a churning stomach and a tight chest before. He could only assume it was guilt he’d been feeling. Guilt at her virginity or guilt at what he’d had to do, he did not know.
Guilt or not, he’d never got back into bed with a woman and needed to make love to her all over again. Not straight away. For all his reputation, Pepe thought with his brain, not the appendage between his legs. At least he had until that night with Cara.
But he hadn’t been inside her for long enough to make a baby. It had been a minute at the most. But caro Dio, he’d had to force himself to withdraw and get that condom. Being inside her without a barrier...
His groin twitched as more sweet memories filled him.
For that one minute inside her, he’d felt a sense of sheer wonderment and belonging...
‘I need a coffee,’ he muttered. He wanted another drink—a proper drink—but knew it was time to stop. A plan was formulating and he needed to think clearly. ‘Can I get you anything?’
Cara shook her head. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded, chin jutted up, looking ready for a fight.
By the time he’d made a quick call to the kitchen, his plan was fully developed. Cara could like it or lump it. If she wanted a fight, she had to learn it was one she would never win.
CHAPTER THREE
‘SIT DOWN.’
It was a definite command.
Cara tightened her arms around her chest and pressed harder into the wall, which was the only thing keeping her upright—her legs were shot. Not that she could trust the wall. For all she knew, it might be hiding a secret bathroom. The only saving grace was that her dress was long enough to hide her knocking knees.
But even if her legs could be trusted to behave, there was no way she would obey. She didn’t care how rich and powerful Pepe was in his world, she would not grant him power over her, no matter how petty. Not without a fight.
‘Suit yourself.’ He lowered himself onto one of the oversized chocolate leather sofas, stretched out his long legs, kicked off his shoes and flashed a grin.
Her knees shook even harder.
How she hated that bloody grin. It was so...fake. And it did something ridiculous to the beat of her heart, which was hammering so hard she wouldn’t be in the least surprised if it burst through her chest.