His Virgin Wife: The Wedding in White / Caught in the Crossfire / The Virgin's Secret Marriage

His jaw clenched, and he fought his hunger. She realized that he wanted to feel her against him without the fabric between them, and it was what she wanted, as well. She forgot about wrong and right, about decency, about everything except the pleasure they were giving each other here, in the quiet room with the silence only broken by the sound of the rain outside the window and their breathing.

“I should be shot for doing this, and you should be shot for letting me,” he said through his teeth. But even as he spoke, his free hand was stripping the robe and gown to her waist. His gaze fell to her naked breasts, and he shuddered again, violently, as his arm suddenly tightened and dragged her breasts against his hair-roughened chest in a feverish caress.

She moaned harshly. Her nails bit into the hard muscles of his upper arms as he crushed her against him and buried his face in the thick hair at her ear. He held her, rocked her, in an aching excess of desire.

Both arms were around her now. She slid her arms around his neck and clung for dear life. She couldn’t catch her breath at all. It was the most intense pleasure she’d ever known. She trembled with desire.

The embrace was fierce. They held each other in a tense silence that seemed to throb with need. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his strong neck, and her eyes closed as she lay against him, unafraid and unashamed of the growing intimacy of the embrace.

He could feel his body growing harder by the second. If he moved her any closer, she’d be able to feel it. He didn’t want that. It was years too soon for the sort of intimacy they were leading up to. He could barely think at all, but the part of his brain that still worked was flashing with red warning lights. She was seventeen, just barely, and he was twenty-three. She wasn’t old enough or experienced enough to know what was about to happen. He was. He couldn’t take advantage of her like this. He had to pull away and stop while he still could.

Abruptly, he shot to his feet, taking her with him. He held her, swaying on her feet, just in front of him. For one long, tense moment, his gaze went to her taut, bare breasts and his face seemed to clench. Then he pulled the straps up and replaced them on her shoulders, easing the robe into place. He tied it with swift, sharp movements of his big hands.

She stared at him, too overwhelmed by the intimacy and its abrupt end to think clearly. “Why did you stop?” she asked softly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Her pale green eyes made him ache as they searched his face. He caught her by the waist and took a slow, deliberate breath before he spoke. “Didn’t they teach sex education at the orphanage?” he asked bluntly.

Her face flamed scarlet. Her eyes, like saucers, seemed to widen endlessly.

He shook his head. She was so deliciously naïve. He felt a generation apart from her instead of only six years. “A man can’t take much of that without doing something about it, Nat,” he said gently. “Looking isn’t enough.”

She was embarrassed, but she didn’t drop her eyes. “I never could have done that with Carl,” she said, feeling vaguely guilty about it. “I enjoyed kissing him, but I never wanted him to do anything else. I didn’t like it when he tried to.”

He ached to his boots. His hands contracted on her shoulders. “You’re only seventeen,” he reminded her. “I know Carl was special to you, but you aren’t really old enough for a physical relationship with anyone.”

“My mother was just eighteen when she had me,” she pointed out.

“This is a different world than hers,” he countered. “And even for an innocent woman, you’re remarkably backward.”

“Weren’t you, at my age?” she asked in a driven tone.

He pursed his lips and studied her face. “At your age, I’d already had my first woman. She was two years my senior and pretty experienced for a place like Medicine Ridge. She taught me.”

She felt her heartbeat racing madly in her chest. She hadn’t expected him to be innocent, but it was shocking to have him speak about it so bluntly.

His lean fingers brushed over her cheek. “And when you’re old enough,” he said in a strange, caressing tone, “I’ll teach you.”

Those shocking words from the past resonated in her mind as she looked at him in the dimly lit study. I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you.

While she was reliving the past, he’d gotten out of his chair and moved around the desk. He was propped against it, his jacket and tie off, his arms folded, watching her.

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Sorry. I was lost in thought. Literally.” She laughed softly.

He didn’t smile. “Come here, Nat.”

She measured the distance to the door and then laughed inwardly at her cowardice. She’d adored this man for so many years that she couldn’t imagine letting anyone else touch her, ever. Besides, she assured herself, he had Glenna to satisfy those infrequent urges he’d once spoken of so bluntly. He wanted to talk without being overheard by Whit in case he came back unexpectedly, that was why he wanted her closer.

With a self-mocking smile she came to a stop less than arm’s length away and looked at him.

He let his gaze encompass her, from her flat moccasins to the thrust of her breasts against the thin sweater. The top two buttons were undone, hinting at the cleavage below.

“I shouldn’t leave Viv alone too long,” she began.

He ignored the hint. His fingers spread along her cheek and his gaze dropped to her soft mouth. “Viv can wait,” he replied quietly. His thumb abruptly moved roughly across her lips, sensitizing them in a shock of desire.

His good eye narrowed. “Go and lock the door,” he said in a tone he hadn’t used with her since the night Carl had died.

She wasn’t going to be dictated to, she told herself. Even Mack wasn’t going to be allowed to tell her what to do!

So it came as a surprise that she closed the door and locked it, her back to him. She was almost shaking with desire. She leaned her hot forehead against the cold wood of the door, hearing the jerk of her breath in her throat.

She didn’t hear him approach, because the thick carpet muffled the sound of his footsteps. But she felt him at her back, felt the heat of his powerful body as both arms went past her to the door. He moved deliberately close, so that his body made contact with hers from her shoulders to her thighs. The contours of his body changed instantly, and she knew, even in her innocence, that what they shared was something rare.

“And now you know why I put you away so quickly that night, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

She swallowed, her body involuntarily responding to his need by arching toward him. “Yes. I do now.”

His hands slid to her flat belly and pulled her closer to him.

“You felt this way all those years ago?” she said, realizing.

“Yes.” His hands smoothed to her rib cage and hesitated. “I accumulated a fair share of experience when I was younger,” he continued. “But in recent years, sex has become a more serious matter to me. I’ve gone hungry. You were innocent and curious, and I almost lost control with you. I didn’t feel comfortable letting you see how tempted I was—especially under the circumstances.”

“I’m still innocent,” she reminded him without turning.

“And just as curious,” he concluded for her. His hands flattened over her rib cage and became possessive. “But tonight, I’m going to satisfy your curiosity. Completely.” And he turned her around.

Chapter 7

Natalie caught her breath at the look on Mack’s face. The naked hunger in that one beautiful dark eye was almost frightening.

His big, lean hands framed her face as he searched her eyes. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he said softly. “I’d cut off my arm before I’d ever hurt you.”

“I know that.” She studied him worriedly. “But I can’t—”

His lips caught the words and stopped them. She felt his hands drop to her throat and then to her shoulders, smoothing up and down the skin left bare by her shortsleeve sweater. He was slow and tender and sensual. It was like a dance in slow motion, a poem, a symphony.

The door was hard at her back as he moved closer, trapping her between his body and the wood. One long leg inserted itself confidently between both of hers with a lazy movement that was as arousing as the kiss they were sharing.

She gasped, and his mouth lifted away. He looked at her, breathing a little jerkily. “This is perfectly natural,” he said quietly. “Don’t fight it.”

Her eyes were wild and a little frightened by the overwhelming desire she felt. “You went away…with Glenna,” she whispered.

“She went on the plane,” he corrected. “She didn’t go with me.” His mouth traced her eyelids and closed them. His hands were under her arms, lifting her closer. They moved slowly, gently, onto her breasts and caressed them with lazy delight.

She felt her legs go weak underneath her. It was unlike any other time she’d been in his arms. He handled her as if she belonged to him, as if she were precious to him, cherished by him.

Her eyes opened when he lifted his head, and they were full of wonder, wide with breathless hunger and delight. Her heart was in them.