She pulled a face. ‘My bikini line hasn’t been done for weeks.’
‘So? It’s only me who’s going to be looking.’ He would be doing a lot more than looking. He’d be doing a lot more right now but for Monique bustling around in the kitchen, liable to barge into the living room at any moment.
A whole week without Cara had felt interminably long.
‘I’d still feel self-conscious.’
‘I can do it for you.’
Cara didn’t trust the gleam that came into Pepe’s eyes. ‘Do what?’
‘Your bikini line.’
‘No way.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because...’ Because she still wasn’t comfortable with him being down there. Blame it on her Catholic upbringing—which was an irony in itself—or blame it on her reaching the grand old age of twenty-six before getting naked with a man, but, whatever the reason, she had a hang-up about her nether regions. Not Pepe’s though. She adored his nether regions.
He arched an eyebrow. ‘Because?’
She was stumped for a good answer.
She was still stumped for a good answer fifteen minutes later, sitting naked on a towel on the sofa in Pepe’s bedroom.
‘Relax, cucciola mia,’ he purred, kneeling before her, having placed a jug of hot water on the floor beside him. He also carried a couple of razors and a tube of shaving gel. To make her feel less self-conscious he’d stripped off too. Or so he’d said.
‘I need you to spread your legs,’ he said, pouring some gel onto his palm.
Swallowing, she did as she was bid and parted her thighs.
‘Further.’
She took a deep breath and exposed herself to him, resting her head back in a futile attempt to do as he’d suggested and relax.
‘I won’t hurt you,’ he said with the utmost sincerity, before planting a kiss on her inner thigh. ‘Trust me.’
Mixing the gel on his palm with a couple of droplets of the hot water, he rubbed his hands together to form a lather, then carefully swiped it over her bikini line, taking great care around the delicate area.
She closed her eyes. Happy to wax her legs, she’d always drawn the line at waxing her bikini area, preferring the less painful route of shaving.
Never in a million years would she have believed she’d allow someone else to do it for her.
When she finally dared look, she found his head bowed in concentration.
Trust me, he’d said.
With a jolt of her heart she realised that she did trust him.
She trusted him as she’d never trusted anyone other than Grace.
But this was a different form of trust. This was a deeper, more intimate trust, a trust she’d never expected to find with a man, with anyone.
‘Okay?’ Pepe’s dark blue eyes were looking up at her.