He pulled away from her and dealt with the condom, his breathing sounding ragged in the silence.
‘Was that...OK?’ Poppy asked.
He cupped one of her cheeks in his hand, his look tender. ‘You were wonderful. Perfect.’
‘I have a lot of catching up to do,’ she said, tracing a fingertip over his collarbone. ‘Chloe told me I’d have to have heaps of sex to catch up with other girls my age.’
The smile went out of his eyes and his hand fell away from her face as he got off the bed. ‘It’s not a competition, Poppy.’ He stepped into his trousers and zipped them up almost savagely. ‘There’s no prize for the person who’s bedded the most partners.’
Poppy watched as he shrugged himself back into his shirt. His movements seemed tense, angry almost. ‘Do you know how many lovers you’ve had?’
His frown carved deep into his forehead. ‘I stopped counting a long time ago.’
‘Have there been any stand-outs?’
He looked at her quizzically. ‘Stand-outs?’
‘You know...women who’ve left a lasting impression on you.’
He let out a breath and began to hunt for his shoes. ‘No one that springs immediately to mind.’
Not even me? Poppy’s heart sank like a stone. She wanted him to see her differently. She didn’t want to be just another nameless notch on his bedpost. She wanted to matter to him.
To have him love her.
Was it foolish of her to hope he would fall in love with her in spite of the very real differences in their backgrounds? Their physical compatibility was unquestionable, even given her limited experience. She sensed a much deeper connection, one that he might not be ready to admit to, but it was there all the same. Hadn’t it been there right from the start? That clock-stopping moment when their eyes had met for the first time when he’d stepped over the threshold of her tearoom. That single moment in time had changed everything. She had thought she was sparring with her worst enemy but instead he had turned into the love of her life.
Their first kiss, the way their mouths had communicated a need that was unlike anything she had felt before; once his mouth had met hers she knew she would never be the same. How could she be? He had unlocked sensations and responses she had not even known she possessed.
Their first time joined together as lovers had felt much more than a physical union . She had felt as if he had reached deep inside her and touched her soul. She would never be able to look back on their time together as just a casual fling. It wouldn’t matter how many times she made love with other partners, she would never forget Rafe’s tender touch and mind-blowing passion.
Would he come to think of her the same way?
Poppy swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as her tender inner muscles protested at the movement.
Rafe was beside her in an instant with a frown tugging at his brow. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
He slid a gentle hand down the length of her bare arm, encircling her wrist with his fingers.
Poppy looked up into his concerned gaze, her love for him feeling like a clamp around her heart. How was she supposed to navigate her way through an affair with him? She wanted the whole package. She would never be satisfied with a few weeks with him.
She wanted for ever.
She lowered her gaze in case he saw the desperate longing there. ‘I’ll be fine...’
He brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. ‘When was the last time you took a break from work?’
‘It’s been a while...’ She frowned as she thought about it for a moment. ‘Not since I came back to look after my gran.’
‘Can Chloe hold the fort for a few days?’
She met his gaze again. ‘How many days?’
He stroked the underside of her chin with a lazy finger. ‘Four or five, maybe we could stretch it to a week. I’d have to check my diary.’
‘Where are you thinking of going?’
‘Paris.’
Poppy’s heart swelled in hope. The city of love...
‘I have a meeting there early next week,’ he said. ‘But afterwards I thought we could spend a few days doing touristy things. By the time we get back, your house should be fixed.’
Did that mean their affair would be over when they got back? Was this his way of indulging his desire for her without letting her take too permanent a place in his life?
As far as she knew he had never lived with a lover before. But then, strictly speaking, she wasn’t living with him. He had offered her a roof over her head until hers was repaired. He wasn’t going to make the manor his home. It was a profit-making exercise, a money-spinner that held no sentimental value to him at all.