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

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      He looked into her stunned eyes, and the hand in her hair tightened. “Didn’t you do this with your boyfriend?” he asked bluntly.

      “No,” she said shakily.

      “Why not, if you loved him?” he persisted.

      She frowned worriedly. It was becoming increasingly hard to think at all. “I didn’t feel like this with him,” she confessed in a whisper.

      Mack’s face changed. His hand in her hair arched her face to his and tugged it into the crook of his arm. He shifted, so that the bodice came completely away from one pert little breast, and his arm tightened, moving her skin sensuously against him.

      She gasped. Her nails bit into his chest, and her lips parted in shock and delight. Involuntarily, she arched closer, so that her breast dragged roughly against his skin.

      The hand in her hair began to hurt. His body tensed, and a faint shudder rippled through him.

      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.

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