His Virgin Bride: The Fiorenza Forced Marriage / Bought: For His Convenience or Pleasure? / A Night With Consequences. Margaret Mayo
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primitive urgency thrilling her. He parted her thighs, his warm breath like a caress as he kissed his way up from her knees to the secret heart of her. She drew in a rasping breath as his fingers tenderly parted her feminine folds, the first stroke of his tongue making her back arch off the floor. A flood of sensations swamped her, tingling electric-like feelings that left her mindless as her body’s impulses took over. She felt the first flicker of a spasm and shrank back from it in nervous apprehension.
Rafaele’s hands on her thighs softened into a soothing caress. ‘Relax for me, Emma,’ he said. ‘Go with it, cara.’
‘I-I can’t…’ she said breathlessly.
‘Yes, you can,’ he said gently. ‘I am probably rushing you. I will slow down.’
It’s not that, Emma wanted to say, but somehow couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. How could she tell him she was a virgin? After what he had assumed had occurred between her and his father would he even believe her?
As if he sensed her uneasiness with such raw intimacy he moved up her body, kissing her deeply as his weight pinned her beneath him. She sighed with pleasure as his erection nudged against her moist folds, the sensation of him being so close but not close enough almost unbearable. She began to squirm under him, her body instinctively searching for his.
Suddenly he was there, in one slick, tearing thrust he was inside her, the gasping cry of discomfort she tried to suppress not quite as inaudible as she had hoped it would be.
He reared back, his weight resting on his arms as he looked down at her. ‘I am rushing you, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘I thought you were ready for me. You felt ready for me. I am sorry—did I hurt you?’
She shook her head, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
Emma felt tears prick at the backs of her eyes. ‘I should have told you…I’m sorry…’
His gaze narrowed even further. ‘Told me what?’
She took a gulping swallow. ‘I’ve never done this before… you know…had sex…’
Rafaele stared at her in stupefaction. ‘What?’
She bit her lip again, her eyes sprouting tears. ‘I know I should have told you but I didn’t think you’d believe me…’
He felt a knife twist in his chest. ‘You mean you’re…you’re a…a virgin?’
She winced as if he had just insulted her. ‘Do you have to say it like that?’ she asked. ‘It’s not something I should be ashamed of.’
He stared at her for a moment, his mind whirling. What had he done? Oh, dear God, what had he done? He thought of all the times he had thrown his filthy accusations at her, never for a moment thinking she had been anything other than the conniving slut he’d believed her to be.
His father hadn’t slept with her.
It was almost too much for him to take in. Why had his father left things the way he had? What had he hoped to achieve by involving Emma in such a convoluted way? If she hadn’t been his mistress, then why give her half of his estate? What possible reason could he have had for doing such a thing?
His father hadn’t known Emma before she came to look after him. She had been a total stranger to him and yet he had tied things up to her advantage, giving her the trump card, leaving his only remaining heir at her mercy. Had his father known how he would react? Had he planned this? Why had he used an innocent girl to get back at his estranged son?
Rafaele carefully lifted himself off her, his insides twisting with guilt as he saw a smear of her blood on his body. His throat felt raw and tight and he inwardly grimaced as she hastily tried to cover herself, her face aflame, her grey-blue eyes looking wounded.
He handed her the shorts and top she had taken off earlier before stepping into his own. ‘I am sorry, Emma,’ he said heavily. ‘I had no idea. I wish you had told me.’
She scrambled back into her shorts and top, her bra and knickers scrunched up in her hand, her eyes shying away from his. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have let things go that far…I don’t know what came over me…I’m deeply ashamed…’
Rafaele touched her on the arm, his gut clenching again as she flinched away as if she found his touch abhorrent. His hand fell back to his side. ‘Do not be ashamed,’ he said. ‘It was my fault, in any case. I have done nothing but pressure you into having an affair with me. I have no excuse, other than I truly believed you to have seduced my father in order to get your hands on his estate. I can see now I have done you a great disservice. I would not blame you if you walked out right here and now. It is exactly what I deserve.’
She lifted her gaze to his. ‘I’m not going to walk out on you,’ she said. ‘This is your home, Rafaele.’
He scraped a hand through his hair, not at all surprised to see it was still shaking slightly when he brought it back to his side. ‘Did my father know you were a virgin?’ he asked.
She blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘No, of course not! Why would I tell him something like that?’
He gave her a wry look. ‘Why indeed?’
Her mouth flattened crossly. ‘I had no idea when I came downstairs this morning that we would…you know…’
‘Come on, Emma,’ he said with a touch of impatience fuelled by his lingering guilt. ‘You came down here this morning with every intention of handing me pity on a plate with you served as a garnish.’
‘That’s not true!’ she said. ‘I wanted to clear the air between us, that’s all.’
He hooked one brow up sceptically. ‘That was some flag of friendship you were waving,’ he said. ‘Do you kiss all of your friends like that?’
She gave him a brittle glare. ‘You started it. You kissed me first.’
‘Ah, yes, but then you stuck your hand down my shorts,’ he said with a twisted, humourless smile. ‘That is going a little further than friendship, I would have thought.’
Her cheeks were fiery red, her eyes flashing with sparks of irritation. ‘Do you have to rub it in?’ she asked. ‘I told you I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself. I can’t believe I acted like that. I lost control completely, but I can assure you it won’t happen again.’
‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I was just starting to enjoy myself.’
Emma drew in a prickly breath. ‘Don’t make me feel any worse than I already do,’ she said. ‘I realise it must have been…uncomfortable for you…to be left like…like that…’
‘You mean unsatisfied?’ he asked.
Her throat went up and down. ‘Yes…I suppose that’s what I do mean…’
‘Put it out of your mind,’ he reassured her. ‘I am not going to die because I didn’t get my rocks off. I can handle a bit of frustration now and again.’
‘Yes, well, I’m sure it doesn’t happen very often,’ Emma said with a little pang of errant jealousy.
‘No, not if I can help it,’ he said. ‘But then boys will be boys, eh, Emma?’
Emma wondered if he was mocking her again. The differences between them had never been more apparent. He was a cynical, experienced playboy who took pleasure how and where he wanted, while she was a romantic fool in search of a home-and-hearth-happy-ever-after. ‘Are you laughing at me?’ she asked.
He stroked a finger down the length of her cheek. ‘Why would I do that, Emma?’ he asked, looking at her with those darker-than-night, unreadable eyes.
Emma felt her spine start to unhinge. ‘You probably think I’m an old-fashioned