The Prince's Virgin Wife. Lucy Monroe

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The Prince's Virgin Wife - Lucy Monroe Mills & Boon Modern

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her. She had only a finite amount of time left in Tom Prince’s life. She needed to take advantage of it.

      “All right. I’ll study when we get home. Please tell me the movie is an early showing.”

      “Your wish is my command, little Maggie.” He sealed his promise with a kiss.

      On her lips.

      He’d never done that before.

      The logical part of her brain told her that kind of salute was common for him, even if she’d always been adept at avoiding any sort of touching between them.

      But her body had other ideas, and lips that had kissed only one other boy before him went instantly soft against his, parting in an invitation that was as old as time and equally unmistakable. Being the natural predator that he was, he accepted the deepening of the kiss with alacrity.

      His tongue slipped between her lips and slid along hers. She’d dreamed of tasting him, but no dream could compare to the rich ambrosia of his mouth. His lips and tongue explored her with such effective mastery, she moaned in pure pleasure. He made a feral sound low in his throat that sent shivers throughout her body, and pulled her forward, tugging her hands around his hips.

      Her fingers convulsed in his sweater, gripping it so tightly it would have ripped if it hadn’t been so well made.

      His hands came around her and pressed against her tailbone, bringing her into intimate contact with his lower body. She felt his rigid length hard against her belly, but couldn’t quite work out in her brain what it meant. She was too busy being devoured by an expert kisser. And loving it.

      Some small part of her sanity remained and the muffled voice of reason asked her what she thought she was doing, but she had no answer. A far more strident voice, that of unrequited love, told her she would never have such a chance again. It urged her to experience all of him that she could.

      Her heart and her clamoring body demanded compliance to that voice.

      Tom did something with his hand against her back and her knees buckled.

      Suddenly she was tumbling backward and he was going with her. She landed with one hip on the sofa and one hip off. Her equilibrium wasn’t up to keeping the balance and she and Tom tumbled to the floor. She landed on top of him, but amazingly he’d kept their lips locked together. He growled and flipped her under him, his hard thigh settled between her legs. She went utterly still, feelings rushing along her nerve endings that made her tremble and yank her head away from his.

      It was too much.

      She clamped her lips shut on a tiny whimper, but it escaped anyway.

      He looked down at her, the angles of his face drawn with an emotion she did not recognize. “Did I hurt you?”

      She shook her head, unable to speak.

      “You whimpered.”

      She stared up at him, mute, her legs separating just a tiny bit in an involuntary gesture that she immediately tried to rectify, but could not. He had settled more firmly between her legs and pressing her own back together only had the effect of hugging his masculine thigh tighter to her.

      She gasped and closed her eyes against the disgust she knew would be in his. She’d promised never to do this, but it was as if her brain had lost control of her body and it had a definite will of its own.

      The fact that it was following her heart did not help her self-control.

      “Open your eyes, Maggie,” he demanded in a tone she doubted many people would have the strength to disobey. “Look at me.”

      She steeled herself to deal with his anger and opened them. “I’m sorry,” she managed to whisper.

      Far from being angry, his eyes were heated with a look he’d never directed her way before. “Why?”

      Her gaze slid to his lips before returning to his eyes. “For kissing you.”

      “I kissed you.”

      But she had invited more. She’d been the one to open her mouth. She simply shook her head, unwilling to put her culpability into words.

      “You want me.” He sounded as if the thought had never once occurred to him, but she could still see no evidence of anger that she had broken their agreement. “Since when?”

      She turned her head away, her pride refusing to give him an answer. The sofa was so close she could see the grain of the leather, but as a distraction from his presence it failed miserably.

      He tugged her chin with implacable fingers until she was once again looking at him. “I want you, too.”

      “You do?” she asked in utter shock. “That’s not possible.”

      He laughed and moved against her, making her aware of more than just the hardness of his thigh. “I’d say it’s very possible.”

      As the implication of what she felt sank in, she blushed hot crimson.

      He laughed again and then his mouth lowered over hers. This time, it was he that demanded entry to her mouth with his tongue. The kiss was incendiary, burning her sense of reality to ashes around her.

      All she could do was feel. Every touch was new for her, every caress a step into an unknown but amazing world. One where passion ruled and desire was a tangible presence surrounding her.

      He traced the curves of her face and neck with barely there fingertips. But when he reached her breast, his touch changed, growing more insistent and he cupped her soft curves possessively through the thin fabric of her worn flannel shirt. It was so intimate, she shuddered from the impact while he growled his approval of her braless state.

      He began to knead her with a knowing finesse that made her ache in her most private place.

      She needed to touch him, too, wanted to feel his skin with no barriers between them. She yanked his T-shirt out of his jeans so she could get her hands under it and his sweater. His skin was hotter than she expected, emanating warmth that made her fingertips burn deliciously.

      And the hair on his chest was silky smooth. She touched everywhere she could reach, exploring his tight body with hungry innocence. When she found the nubs of his hard nipples, she stopped and circled them with her thumbs, then brushed over them, primal delight shimmering through her at his passionate response.

      She was only vaguely aware of him unbuttoning the front of her shirt and peeling it back.

      She noticed when his hand touched her bare skin though. Her whole awareness was consumed with the feel of his hands on her bare flesh, as her nipples hardened almost painfully and small goose bumps broke out on her flesh.

      He kissed along her jaw and down her neck. “You’re so soft, Maggie, so delicious.”

      Her only response was another soulful whimper as his mouth found her breast and then a scream as he began to suckle the nipple. Her hands fell to her sides, thudding against the carpet. She twisted her head back and forth as a mewling sound came from her throat that she could barely recognize as herself.

      Then speech burst forth from

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