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

She could feel the powerful muscle of his thigh across hers, the pressure vaguely arousing. She could feel the hard, heavy beat of his heart against her breasts in their light covering. She could taste his breath on her mouth as he stared at her from point-blank range. She began to feel hot and swollen all over from the unfamiliar proximity. She didn’t know whether to try to laugh it off or fight her way off the carpet.

He seemed to sense her internal struggle, because that long leg moved enough to pin her in a position that was just shy of intimate.

She jerked and moved her hips. He caught them with one big, lean hand and held her down hard.

“Don’t do that,” he said huskily, “unless you’re in a reckless mood.”

She stilled, curious.

He let go of her hip and slid his hand into her hair, tugging off the band that held it in place behind her ears. He smoothed her hair over the carpet and looked into her face with an expression that bordered on possession.

His fingers trailed down the side of her neck to the opening of her blouse and lingered there, tracing a deliberate pattern on the soft skin that provoked a shiver from her responsive body.

His long leg moved, just barely, and her lips parted on an audible sound as her body arched involuntarily.

His hips shifted, pinning her, and his face hardened. “Do you know what that does to me? Or are you experimenting?”

She swallowed, and her eyes searched his. “I don’t know what it does,” she confessed huskily. “I feel very odd.”

“Odd how?”

His intent gaze made her heartbeat quicken. “I feel swollen,” she whispered, as if she were telling him a secret.

His gaze dropped to her parted mouth. “Where?” he breathed. “Here?” And his hand slid under her hips and lifted her right into the blatant contours of his aroused body.

She did gasp then, but she didn’t try to get away. She looked straight at him, enthralled.

“I want you,” he said in a rough whisper. “And now you know what happens when I want you.” His hand contracted, grinding her against him. “You’d better be sure what you want, before I go over the edge.”

Her body seemed to dissolve under him. She made a husky little sound deep in her throat and shivered as delicious sensations rippled through her body.

He groaned. His hand moved into the thick fall of her hair and pinned her head as he bent down. “I should be shot,” he ground out against her parted lips.

“Why?” she moaned, lifting her arms around his neck.

“Nat…”

The sound went into her mouth. He kissed her with a barely leashed hunger that made every secret dream of her life come true. She relaxed under him, reached up to hold him tight, moved her legs to admit the harsh downward thrust of his hips. She moaned again, a sound almost of anguish, as the kiss grew harder and slower and more insistent. He tasted of hot chocolate and pure man as he explored her soft, willing mouth. She’d been kissed, but never like this. He knew more about women than she ever expected to learn about men. She matched his hunger with enthusiasm rather than experience, and he knew immediately that she was in over her head.

He lifted his mouth, noticing with reluctant pleasure that she followed its ascent, trying to coax it back over her lips.

“No,” he whispered tenderly, holding her down with a gentle arm right across her hard-tipped breasts.

“Why not?” she asked miserably. “Don’t you like kissing me?”

He drew in an unsteady breath and ground his hips against hers. “Does that feel as if I like it?” he asked with black humor.

She just looked at him, a little shy but totally without understanding.

He shifted so that he was beside her on the carpet, arched across her yielding, taut body. “I don’t keep anything in my wallet to use,” he said bluntly. “If you want to make love, I have to go to town and buy something to keep you from getting pregnant. Does that make it any clearer?”

Her eyes seemed to widen impossibly for a few seconds. “You mean…have sex?”

“A man has sex with a one-night stand. You’re not one.”

She studied him quietly, with open curiosity. “I’m not?”

He traced her mouth with a lean forefinger, watching it open hungrily. “I want you very badly,” he whispered. “But your conscience would beat you to death, with or without precautions.”

She still hesitated. “Maybe…”

He put his finger across her lips. “Maybe not,” he said with returning good humor. “I came over to teach you biology, not reproduction.”

“You don’t want babies,” she said, and she sounded sad.

He grimaced. “I don’t want them right now,” he corrected. “One day, I’d like several.” He traced her thin eyebrows lazily. “You haven’t had much experience with men.”

“I’m doing my best to learn,” she murmured dryly.

His fingers trailed into her hair and speared into its softness. “I’ll tell you what to do, when the time comes. This isn’t it,” he added only half humorously.

She eyed him mischievously. “Are you sure?” She moved deliberately and smiled as he shuddered.

He caught her hip and held her down. “I’m sure,” he resigned.

“Okay.” She sighed and relaxed into the carpet. “I guess I can live on dreams if I have to.”

He pursed his lips. “Do you dream about me?”

“Emphatically,” she confessed.

“Should I ask how you dream about me?”

“I’ll spare you the blushes,” she told him, and moved away so that she could sit up. She pushed back her disheveled hair.

“So they’re that sort of dreams, are they?” he asked, chuckling.

“I don’t suppose you dream about me,” she fished.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, he sat up and got to his feet gracefully. “I’m leaving while there’s still time,” he said, and he grinned at her.

“Craven coward,” she muttered. “You’d never make a teacher. You have no patience with curious students.”

“You’ve got enough curiosity for both of us,” he told her. “Walk me to the door.”

“If I must.”

He paused with the door open and looked down at her with open possession. “One step at a time, Nat,” he said softly. “Slow and easy.”

She blushed at the tone and the soft insinuation.

He bent and brushed his mouth briefly against hers. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you Friday.”

“We’re still going to Billings?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said gently. “Good night.”

Frustrated and weak in her knees, she watched him stride to his car. She didn’t know how it was going to work out, but she knew that there was no going back to the old easy friendship they’d once enjoyed. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or not.

There were plenty of nervous faces and anxious conversations when Natalie sat in the biology classroom to wait for the professor to hand out the written test questions. She’d assumed that the lab questions would require everyone to file into the lab with another sheet of paper and identify the labeled exhibits there. But the professor announced that the dissection questions were on a separate sheet included with the exam. Everybody was on edge. It was common knowledge that many people failed the finals in this subject and had to retake the course. Natalie prayed that she wouldn’t. She couldn’t graduate with her class if she flubbed it.

When the papers were handed out, the professor gave the go-ahead. Natalie read each question carefully before she began to fill in the tiny circles of the multiple choice questions. As she studied the drawing of the dissected rat and noted the placement of the various marks, she found that she remembered almost every single one. She was certain that she was going to pass the course. Mack had made sure of it. She almost whooped for joy when she turned in her paper and pencil. There was one more thing required—she had to fill out a rating sheet for the professor and the course, a routine part of finals. She loved the class and respected the professor, so her answers were positive. She turned in that sheet, too, and left the room. There were still fifteen people huddled over their papers when she went out the door, with only five minutes left for completion.