JENNIE LUCAS - Virgin - Undone by the Billionaire - The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin

“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek with a small trembling hand. Her eyes were as many shades of hazel as the rose vines and soft earth beneath them. “You make me feel warm. I want you inside me …”

He groaned aloud.

He slowly drew back and thrust again inside her, this time more deeply. The pleasure was intense for him, and he had to sharply keep himself in control. He stifled her second gasp with a fierce kiss, seducing away her fear until she melted back in his arms. Until she moaned with pleasure, tossing back her head as he pressed her against the grass. He kissed her throat, sucking on the tender flesh of her ear. Her full breasts bounced softly as he thrust into her, moving with agonizing gentleness.

Holding back like this was killing him …

She cried out, clutching her nails into his back. He heard her intake of breath, felt the building tension of her body. He thrust into her, moving his hips side-to-side against her. He stroked her skin, riding her on the soft green grass, beneath the warm sun and the sweet scent of roses.

Then he heard her harsh gasp. She arched against him with a sharp cry that never seemed to end.

At that, he lost all control. Pushing into her, he thrust just three times before his world exploded in a burst of light.

Beautiful … rare … angel.

It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. His eyes remained closed as he held himself inside her, struggling for breath. It seemed to take years before he slowly came back to earth.

When he finally looked down at Lia’s beautiful face, her eyes were still closed. Her parted lips turned up sweetly, as if she were still in heaven. He looked down at her naked body, at the full breasts and wide hips and slightly curved belly of a 1940s pin-up girl. She was so lush and impossibly desirable. He could feel himself growing hard again as he looked at her.

Then he realized something. He hadn’t used a condom.

He’d just risked getting her pregnant.

He swore beneath his breath.

Furious at himself, he pulled away from her.

Lia’s eyes opened—her luminous hazel eyes with depths that seemed to go on forever. He watched her long, dark lashes flutter against her pale skin with a blush like roses on her cheeks.

He took a deep breath.

“Are you on the Pill?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Are you on the Pill?”

She shook her head. “No, why would I be?”

Why indeed? A cold sweat broke out over his body. He stood up and readjusted his clothes, righting his pants over his hips.

He could hardly believe he’d been so stupid.

Lia had some power over him that he didn’t understand. How could he have acted so foolishly—as mindless as a rutting bull driven half-mad with the scent of lust.

The overwhelming force of his desire for her felt too dangerous. Too close.

He didn’t want to care about anyone ever again.

A flash went through him, the memory of red flames, white snow and a desolate black sky. The sobbing. The crash of the fire and crackle of burning timber. Then, worst of all, the silence.

He pushed the thought away. Business. He had to think of business.

He cursed himself under his breath. Damn it, he still hadn’t asked her to sell him the New York property!

“The New York property …” he muttered, then stopped.

“What about it?”

Turning his head, he said hoarsely, “How is it possible that you were a virgin? You’re a widow. Every man desires you. They say the old count died of pleasure in your bed—”

She stiffened. “That’s not true!”

“I know.” He lifted her to her feet. Her naked body was a vision before his eyes, and even now, when he should have been satiated, he couldn’t stop looking at her. “But you were married. How can you be a virgin?”

“Giovanni was good to me,” she whispered. “He was my friend.”

“But never your lover.”

“No.”

And Roark was fiercely glad. He reveled in it.

But why? Why did he care that he’d been her only lover? What difference did it make?

Still naked and dazed in the sunshine of the garden, she took a breath and licked her full red lips. She was so beautiful he ached to take her inside the castle, find a wide bed and enjoy her body again at his leisure. To take his time and show her how long pleasure could last….

Why was she having such a strange effect on him? He took a deep breath, desperate to regain control over his body and his mind. Business. Ask her about the land! he ordered himself.

But his mouth wouldn’t follow his orders. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

It was because she was naked. It had to be. Once she was covered up, he would be able to think again. Bending to pick up her discarded white dress and panties from the grass, he handed them to her.

“Why did the count marry you, if not for your body?”

Looking dazed and disoriented, she stared at him, clutching the fabric in her hands. “He married me to be kind.”

“Right,” Roark said sardonically, forcing himself to look away. It was easier to be distant when he couldn’t see her or touch her. “That’s why men get married. To be kind. I had business dealings with Count Villani once or twice. The man was ruthless.”

“He was my father’s friend.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her slip on her dress, pulling up her panties beneath. “My father’s shipping company was stolen by a heartless corporate raider, and a few months later he died of a heart attack.”

Roark looked at her sharply.

“Giovanni came to L.A. for the funeral,” she continued simply. “He saw my sister had no money to pay for her treatment. He saw my mother was mad with grief. And he tried to save us.” She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “But it was too late for them.”

A shipping company. Los Angeles. It was all starting to sound too familiar.

The Olivia Hawthorne Park Foundation thanks you for your generous donation.

Roark hadn’t paid attention to the name before. Now, a sick feeling went through his chest. “What was your father’s name?”

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

“Alfred … Alfred Hawthorne.”

Roark swore silently.

Just as he’d feared. Her father was the same man who, ten years ago, had mortgaged himself to the teeth trying to fight Roark’s hostile takeover of his shipping company. He had heard the man had died a few months later, followed to the grave by his teenage daughter who’d had some kind of brain tumor. Then the mother committed suicide with sleeping pills.

Only their oldest daughter had lived. Amelia.

Lia.

And she’d just given him her virginity.

Roark clenched his hands. She’d only done it because she didn’t know his name. By some miracle he’d managed not to tell her. But if she knew …

Once she knew, he wouldn’t have a shot in hell of getting her to spit on him to save him from burning to death, much less getting her to sell him the New York property.

“Did you know my father?” she asked softly, looking up at him.

“No.” And in a way it was true. He’d never really known the man. He’d just taken his poorly managed company and broken it into parts, destroying the docks and selling the valuable oceanfront property in Long Beach for a brand-new condominium development.

“I wish you had. I think you would have liked each other. Both powerful men, focused on success.”

The difference being that Roark always won, while her father had been a weak failure, a third-generation heir of a company he didn’t know how to properly run.

Roark managed not to point this out to her, however.

He had to convince Lia to sell him the New York property before she found out who he was.