He did nothing more than what he chose to do. He was not a man like his father, ruled by temper. Or like his brother, steeped in debauchery.
He was not seduced. He never had been. He had always done the seduction. And the fact that she was trembling beneath his touch indicated that he was doing the seducing yet again. And if he was shaking, as well, it was only because of adrenaline. Because of arousal. Because his body was readying itself for an intimate act that would never eventuate. Not with her.
Though, he was having difficulty remembering why now.
When he pulled away from her, he remembered. Her lips were flushed with her arousal, her eyes glassy, but it was the look of wonder in them that hit him square in the gut.
The innocence there.
If there was any part of him that was pretending she was not a virgin, he could no longer pretend. He was not a man who had ever allowed himself to entertain the idea of taking a woman’s virginity. That was the territory of villains like his brother, and the fact he wanted Camilla, even though he did not intend to make their union permanent, appalled him. It had been different with Liliana. He had intended to offer her a commitment that would last. To do the honorable thing. To offer her his name, his protection. She was like a hothouse flower. She would not only require protection, require being coddled, but she would expect and demand it.
Camilla would never submit to such a thing. She was wild, untamable. She was nothing like Liliana and all her pale, quiet beauty. Camilla was the sun, but she was also a storm. Uncontrollable. Unmanageable. She would tear through the rancho, tear through his life and tear through her own with all that same vigor and carelessness that she had employed when she had cut off all her hair and posed as a boy to get hired on by him.
He would never be able to tame her, never be able to leash her, and of course, he didn’t want to.
But she had all that reckless spirit and it was not compatible to his life. Still.
Right now he wanted to crush her beneath him, spread those thighs and bury himself inside her.
But he could not. He would not.
“Wow,” she breathed, that sweet, innocent reaction touching him in places he should not allow.
“Do not look at me like that.”
She blinked. “Look at you like what?”
“Like you’re looking at me right now,” he returned. “Like I have taught you something new. It will look strange in a picture.”
He tacked that last part on quickly, and he felt guilty when she looked like she had been struck.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “You have done nothing wrong.”
Except reached inside him and changed something around. Moved parts of himself so that sacred spaces that had long been covered were exposed.
It was only a kiss. There was no reason to apply so much to it. One would be forgiven for thinking he was the virgin given that response.
“You said I did.”
“I only meant...you cannot look at me as though that was your first kiss. We are supposed to be a couple.”
“But it was,” she said softly.
His groin tightened, his stomach tense. “Do not tell me things like that, Camilla.”
“Why not? You told me all those dark things about your past. Surely, this isn’t a deeper revelation than that.”
Again, she produced a kind of clear, real honesty in him he could not fight. “When you tell me things like that I am tempted. Tempted to teach you everything those eyes tell me you do not know. Tempted to make sure that I am not only your first kiss but also your first lover. And the lover that you think about every time thereafter. The lover you compare all other men to.”
He was certain that that would scare her. Certain that that was a bridge too far for his innocent beauty. She would not want those things. She was fearsome, a warrior, but she was not worldly. She had been protected from the advances of men like him. She didn’t have to say that for him to know it was true. Had she not been, she would have been kissed many times already. Would have been far from untouched.
She deserved her first time to be with a nice man. A man who would honor that gift. A man who was careful with things, rather than breaking them.
“What if I want you to?” she said softly. “What if I want you to teach me those things?”
“You do not know what you ask for,” he said.
“I do. I am not so sheltered that I don’t understand the way things are between men and women. And I...I will not fall in love with you. I’m independent. I was born with a fierce spirit. I’m like my father. I have the gift of speaking to horses. I have the gift of strength and solitude. I am not meant to be tied down. So you have no worries on that score. Not for me.”
“Your father married your mother. He fell for someone who betrayed him immeasurably over the course of his life. Why do you assume that because you’re like him you’re immune?”
“My father was bound to my mother because of me. And he was bound to stay married because of his faith. He could have sought an annulment, I suppose, because of her behavior, but he did not. It suited him. To keep that marriage. I think, in the end, he knew that a real marriage was not for him anyway. He wanted to spend long hours out on the rancho. He did not want to throw dinner parties. He did not want to spend his time catering to a wife. Any more than I want to spend my time catering to a husband. Do you think that I want to get dressed up and go to parties like this all the time? No. I would rather wear jeans. And I would rather ride horses. I would rather wear boots than these glittering gold shoes, no matter how beautiful they are. But just because I want those things does not mean that I’m immune to the desires of a man’s touch. And I want yours, Matías. I crave yours.”
She was bold, even in this. He was reminded of that first meeting. When she had spoken to him with such force, and he had imagined that it had come from the brashness of youth. Now he knew. It was simply the fire inside her. Some might call it an unearned confidence. But he found it to be a singular, beautiful gift.
She was no seductress. She was looking at him with frankness, with open desire. She was not gazing at him through her veiled lashes, fluttering her eyes at him. No. There was no shame. If there was embarrassment, it was simply because she was afraid of rejection. But there was no game being played here. She wanted. And so she asked. It was a fascinating thing to see. And it was...
Intoxicating.
To have a woman look him in the eye and swear she would not fall in love with him. To have a woman ask for what she wanted.
To want this creature that could offer him nothing in terms of skill in the bedroom. Who could not do tricks and would likely have no idea of what to do with his body once he took his clothes off for her.
That novelty should not appeal to him, and yet it did. Just as he had said, the temptation to educate her was real. The temptation to brand her as his. To burn his mark into her skin.
Perhaps he should be appalled by such an impulse and yet he could no more fight against it than he could fight against her honest, open request.
“You must tell me,” he said, “little one.” He braced his hand on the back of her head, holding her steady as he looked into her dark eyes. “That you want me to take your virginity. That you want me to take you back to my penthouse here in Barcelona. You want me to taste you, touch you. That you want me inside your body. You must say those things to me, so that I know for sure you understand what you ask.”
“Remember,” she said, those pouty lips curving upward. “I am not fourteen. I am