"Darling, I cannot-"
"I've never done this before!" she blurted out, seeing no other way to get him to listen to her. His head lifted and he shot her a look of incomprehension.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Her fingers curled against his chest as she met his eyes squarely. "Surely this cannot come as a surprise to you. I told you that I spent most of my life trying to be good."
"You're a virgin?" He had not meant for it to come out as an accusation, but it did.
"A virgin, not a serial killer." Her smile was wobbly as she continued to stare at him.
"No," he shook his head as if trying to come to grips with the revelation. "How? I mean, you said you were seventeen when you were in that accident. Before that-"
"I was plain. I had braces on my teeth and pimples." She lifted her chin, a smile curving her lips. "Boys tend to ignore you when you have such glaring flaws."
His disbelief was evident in the way his eyes roamed over her flawless skin and perfect white teeth. He still couldn't fathom what she had just said.
"After the accident, I was too busy trying to get better physically and emotionally to even think about anything else. I was a late bloomer. It was when I had gone two years in college that I looked in the mirror one day and everything had changed. It meant nothing to me then." Her smile was tremulous. "That's why I wanted to wait." She gave him an inquiring look. "I hope you're not turned off by the knowledge of my lack of experience."
"I've never been with a virgin before," he murmured.
"I know it will hurt-"
"Just the first time." He was going to have to rethink his strategy after all. He had to take it slow, even if he died in the process. And then it hit him, the force of it dousing his powerful and intense arousal. His wife was a virgin. She was as pure as the driven snow and he was...not.
He had been sexually active since he was thirteen. The number of women he had been with was beyond his ability to recall, let alone count.
Slowly and carefully, he withdrew, first emotionally and then physically. He did not deserve to even be in the same room with her. He had deluded himself into thinking he was worthy of her.
"Dean?" Sensing that something was wrong, she started to reach for him, but he shook off her hand.
"We didn't have that champagne, and I need something a hell of a lot stronger."
He climbed off the bed and reached for a robe, shrugging it on and tying the belt around his waist.
Catherine felt her heart sinking as she watched him stride towards the recessed bar.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing." Jabbing at the button, he waited for the bar to slide towards him. Plucking the bottle of scotch, he splashed some into a glass. Taking it with him, he went to where he had put the tray. Picking up the bottle of Dom, he popped the cork and watched objectively as it foamed.
"Dean?"
"Just a minute." He poured a full glass and brought it to her.
Going back to retrieve his glass, he lifted it mockingly. "A toast to our wedding night and mostly to you, darling, for remaining pure." Without waiting for her to join him, he downed half the liquor, welcoming the punch of heat it brought him.
"You're upset." Catherine felt the cold settling inside her stomach.
"With myself." He pointed the glass at her as he leaned against the towering carved pillar at the foot of the bed. "Never with you. You deserve better. I have no doubt that if your mother was alive, she would have told you to run in the opposite direction."
"She would have come to know you-"
"And what?" he demanded bitterly. "Tell you what a catch I am? How lucky you are to find someone like me? That would be a damn lie, wouldn't it? I'm no catch. I'm dirty. I slept with women," he shook his head.
"I cannot give you a number. I don't recall the names of most of them. They were just bodies to me. I come from bad stock, my father, his father before him, and not to mention my mother." He drank some more. The more he talked, the more he rakedthrough his past, the angrier and more despondent he was. Tonight should have been the happiest night of his life. He was with the woman for whom he felt a word he was not sure he could ever say. Shying away from it, he finished the drink and went to pour some more.
"Your past does not matter." Putting down the full glass of champagne, she contemplated trying to go to him.