His Convenient Virgin Bride

But a kiss wouldn’t hurt. A kiss was nothing. She’d kissed a dozen men, well, boys really. A kiss didn’t have to lead anywhere. It didn’t have to mean anything.

And then at least she’d know. She’d know his touch, his scent, his taste.

She subconsciously swayed toward him.

“Stephanie.” His voice was strangled.

The world seemed to pause for breath.

And then he was reaching, pulling, engulfing her, plastering her body against his, flattening her breasts, surrounding her with his strong arms. His mouth came down on hers, open, hot, all encompassing.

Passion shot through her body, igniting every nerve ending, every fiber from her hair to her toes.

He tipped his head, deepening the kiss. She opened her mouth, shocked that these intense sensations could come from a simple kiss. Her arms stretched around his neck, and her body instinctively arched against him.

His hands slid down her spine, lower, and lower still. She gasped at the sensation, moaning when the heat of his palms cupped her bottom.

She curled her fingertips into his hairline, struggling for an anchor, her knees going weak, as the subsonic vibrations of arousal sapped the strength of her legs. She kissed him harder, her thigh relaxing, allowing his own to press between, sending shock waves through her torso.

“Stephanie,” he rasped, and she loved the breathless sound of his voice.

He groaned then, breaking away, reaching backward to unclasp her hands.

But she fought back, shaking free from his grasp, cupping his face and peppering his mouth with quick kisses. She did not want this feeling to end.

He gave a guttural groan, enveloping her again, taking over the rhythm, bending her backward and thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth while one hand slid up her rib cage, surrounding her breast.

She kissed him fervently, fists tightening, toes curling, as she struggled to get closer and closer.

Then suddenly, she was lifted from the floor, scooped into his arms. The kisses continued and sensations built as he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. There, he set her down, and his fingers swiftly scrambled with the buttons on her blouse.

Yes. Skin to skin. They absolutely needed to be skin to skin. She fumbled with the knot in his tie, making little progress. She switched to the buttons on his white shirt.

He chuckled deep in his chest as he swooped off her blouse, removing her bra in one deft motion. “I win,” he breathed in triumph.

Then he helped her out, and tore open his shirt, discarding it on the floor.

She sighed in sublime satisfaction as his hot body came up against hers. Her breasts and belly tingled, and her skin flushed with pleasure.

He lifted her once more, sinking onto the bed full-length. His hand found her bare breast, strumming the nipple to exquisite arousal. His kisses roamed from her mouth to her neck to her shoulder, and finally to the hard beads of her sensitized nipples. She was restless, itchy, and her hands felt empty, but she didn’t know what to do with them.

She buried them in his short hair, convulsively tightening her fingertips against her scalp. Her thighs twitched apart, and he settled between them. A burst of desire rocketed through her belly. She reached for the waistband of his slacks, certain they needed less clothing between them and more heated skin.

He helped her out again, rising to strip off the rest of their clothes. He paused then, his gaze sweeping hotly over every single inch of her nakedness.

She loved the way he was looking at her, as if he liked what he saw. She loved that she was naked, loved that she could stare right back at his glorious, hot, sculpted body.

He slowly lowered himself against her, one palm running from her knee to her breasts, then back again. He gently eased her legs apart, watching her expression. Then he kissed her eyelids, took her mouth once more in a deep, lingering, passionate kiss.

His touch became firm, his movements more hurried, and when he tore open a condom, she experienced a moment of fear. But then he was back, and his kisses were magic, and her body took over, spreading and arching and welcoming him.

She expected a pain, but it was minor and fleeting, and the building sparks of desire quickly filled her mind. He adjusted her body, and the sensations intensified. She dragged in labored breaths, hands convulsing against his back, toes curled and hips arching to meet him with every stroke.

They rode a wave that stretched on and on, until his body tensed. His rhythm increased. He cried out her name, while lights and sound exploded in her mind, making her weightless, suspended in time, before she pulsed back to earth and felt the weight of Alec on top of her.

His breathing slowed, and he kissed her temple, her ear, her neck.

Then he dragged in a labored gasp. “Stephanie Ryder, you blow my mind.”

She struggled to catch her own breath. “If I could talk,” she panted. “I’d tell you exactly the same thing.”

He chuckled deep, rolling over to put her on top.

Her limbs felt like jelly. But now that it was over, a soreness crept in between her legs. She shifted to ease it.

“Careful,” he warned, reaching his hand between them. He eased out of her body.

But then he frowned, lifting his fingers to peer at them in the bright moonlight. “What the hell?”

He whirled his head, pasting her with an accusing look. “You’re a virgin?”

“Not anymore.”

He recoiled in what looked like horror. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I?” It was her problem, not his. Besides, it wasn’t like she was saving herself for some mythical future marriage.

“Because…” he sputtered. “Because…”

“Would you have done something different?” Personally she wouldn’t have changed a thing. Virginity wasn’t a big deal in this day and age.

“I wouldn’t have done anything at all.”

“Liar,” she accused. Half an hour ago, neither of them had been thinking past sex. “Did you tell the first woman you slept with that she was the first?”

He frowned in the starlight. “That’s completely diff-”

“Ha! Double standard.”

He raked a hand through his mussed hair. “I can’t believe we’re having this argument.”

“Neither can I.”

“You’ll argue about anything, won’t you?”

“Takes two to tango, Alec.”

He curled an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight. “You are impossible.”

“And you’re inflexible.”

“You really should have said something.” But his voice was starting to fade as a pleasant lethargy took over her body.

“I didn’t,” she muttered. “Get over it.”

His voice dropped to a whisper next to her ear. “I doubt I’ll be doing that for a very, very long time.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her body relaxed into sleep.

Then, after what seemed like only seconds, there was a loud knock on her bedroom door. She blinked, and the bright sunlight stung her eyes.

“Stephanie?” Royce’s voice demanded.

Alec was on his feet, clothes in hand, and through the connecting door to the bathroom in a split second.

“Hang on,” she shakily called to her brother.

“Something wrong?”

“Why?” She blinked again, struggling to adjust her eyes.

“It’s after nine.”

She sat straight up and glanced around, grabbing her discarded clothes and stuffing them under the covers just in case Royce barged in. “I overslept.”

“Have you seen Alec?”