Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire. Jennie Lucas
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“Ah, Lia. What you do to me …”
He picked her up in his strong arms. She stared up at his handsome face, at the intensity in his deep dark eyes.
She suddenly knew this fire could consume them both.
He gently laid her down on the soft grass. Covering her body with his own, he moved slowly against her. She moaned, wanting something, not even sure what she wanted but wanting it now. Unzipping his pants, he spread her naked thighs apart with his own. She felt his hard shaft demanding entrance, and she quivered beneath him, tense and yearning.
He lowered his head to kiss her, his lips and tongue intertwining passionately with her own.
And he filled her with a single deep thrust.
Pain stabbed through her, making her gasp.
He froze, looking down at her, shock rippling over his handsome face.
“How is it possible? You’re a virgin?”
CHAPTER FIVE
LIA, a virgin?
Roark was in shock.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Every man desired her. She’d been married for ten years. How could she be a virgin?
How was it possible that Countess Lia Villani, the woman whose beauty seduced and entranced men beyond reason, had never been bedded until now?
But there was no mistaking the physical signs. Her earlier hesitation and awkward response to his first kiss, which he had taken as evidence of her pride, were cast in a new light.
Lia was innocent. Or at least, she had been.
Until Roark had possessed her.
A surge went through his blood. As he looked at her lying on the fallen rose petals, her hazel-green eyes so clear and so deep, he felt a strange breathless rush.
The intensity of the feeling reminded him of skydiving. Flying high above the clouds in Alaska, Roark remembered opening the door of the plane. Staring into nothing but air, he’d heard a buzzing in his ears as he threw himself headfirst off the edge.
He’d fallen with the wind howling in his ears, whipping painfully against his skin in a freefall. He’d felt the dizziness and danger as the earth approached at 130 miles an hour.
The adrenaline that ripped through him was the same now.
Lia was dangerous.
More dangerous than he’d ever realized.
But knowing he was the only man who’d ever had her, fierce pride and possessiveness went through him. Dangerous or not, he could not let her go.
He was still hard inside her. He knew he should pull away. He’d never taken any woman’s virginity but knew instinctively that it had just changed them both forever. They would always be connected by this, and that scared him.
She licked her full red lips.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out.
“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