‘They’re hold-ups,’ she corrected, breathing deeply. The trail of his fingers on her skin burned almost as much as the scald.
‘They’re sexy.’
‘That’s inappropriate.’
His lips twitched. ‘Sorry.’
‘Liar.’
Hold-ups removed and thrown onto the floor, Pepe helped manoeuvre her into the empty bath before reaching for the shower head that rested on the gold taps.
He held it over his hand then turned it on. Water gushed out, spraying over them both.
Adjusting the pressure, he smiled with a hint of smugness. ‘Still happy to keep your dress on?’
‘Yes.’ She would rather suffer third-degree burns than strip off to her underwear in front of him.
‘I’ve seen you naked before,’ he reminded her wickedly, turning the shower onto her thighs.
‘Not under bright light, you haven’t.’
The cold water felt like the greatest relief in the world. Cara closed her eyes, rested her head back and savoured the feeling, uncaring that the cold water spraying off her thighs was pooling in the base of the bath, sloshing all around her bottom. It was worth it. Slowly, wonderfully, her tender skin numbed.
It was only when she opened her eyes a few minutes later that she realised her dress had risen higher and that her black knickers were fully exposed.
One look at the gleam in Pepe’s eyes and she knew he’d noticed.
‘I think that’s enough now,’ she said, leaning up and yanking her sodden dress down to cover herself.
Pepe screwed his eyes shut to rid himself of the image.
It didn’t work.
The image of Cara’s soaking knickers and the memories of what they hid burned brightly, almost as brightly as her flushing cheeks.
His trousers felt so tight and uncomfortable it was hard to breathe.
He gritted his teeth and willed his erection to abate.
He turned the tap off, replaced the shower head and crouched back next to her, making sure to look at her face and only her face. ‘Your thighs should be okay—it doesn’t look as if they’re going to blister—but to play safe I’ve got some salve in the medicine cabinet you can put on them. I’ll get it for you and then you can get changed—where’s your change of clothes?’
‘I didn’t bring any.’
‘Why not?’ Whenever Cara came to Sicily she always came for at least a week.
‘I only came for the day.’
‘Really?’ He’d arrived from Paris with barely twenty minutes to spare before the christening started, avoiding the inevitable for as long as humanly possible. He hadn’t imagined Cara had done the same.
‘I didn’t want to risk spilling the beans to Grace before I’d had a chance to speak to you.’
‘That was good of you,’ he acknowledged.