The Virgin's Secret Marriage

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  She stepped back. “You’ve done that.”

  His lips curved into a sexy grin. “Not well enough if you’re roaming the house at two in the morning, too agitated to stay in bed.”

  She turned away from the too-male censure in his expression. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Damn right you will be—” Joe came up behind her and placed both his hands on her shoulders “—because you’re sleeping with me.”

  “I’M DETECTING A PATTERN HERE,” Emma said as Joe took her by the hand, and half coaxed, half propelled her up the stairs, down the hallway, toward the master bedroom and his king-size bed. Despite her protests, he had the feeling she wasn’t half as reluctant as she was pretending to be.

  “What do you mean?” Joe whipped back the sheets, guided her down onto them, then scooted in after her. Telling himself this wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before, and quite platonically at that, he brought the covers back, enveloping them both to the waist.

  “I mean this is our third night as man and wife, and the second time you’ve insisted we sleep in the same bed.”

  “My mistake,” Joe said.

  Her brow furrowed as she looked at him in cautious bewilderment.

  “I should have done so on all three nights.” He reached over and turned off the bedside light, and then turned toward her. She rolled onto her side away from him and started sliding toward the opposite edge, as if to escape to the safety of her own bed. Knowing if she left his bed she wouldn’t sleep a wink all night, and that she needed her sleep—they both did—he rolled onto his side, wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her back. She murmured a soft “O” of surprise, then settled against him.

  “This really doesn’t…” Her voice developed a huskiness that indicated the depth of her upset.

  “Mean anything. I know,” Joe whispered in her ear as he pressed a kiss against her hair. He wished she hadn’t looked so soft and vulnerable and doe-eyed in the seconds before he turned off the light. Because that only made him want to claim her as his all the more. “Go to sleep,” he ordered gruffly. Promising himself he was going to take the high road here. And do the noble thing.

  Even as Emma went very still in Joe’s arms, her breathing sped up. He felt her tremble as she settled more deeply into the mattress, the shifting of her body giving new heat and hardness to his. It was all Joe could do not to moan as he felt the blood rush to his groin. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. On the other hand, he had brought her in here. Offered her sanctuary and peace of mind in his arms. The least he could do was wait until she went to sleep before moving safely away from her.

  Only problem was, Joe thought as his lower body continued to heat with stunning speed, Emma wasn’t going to sleep. Not nearly. Instead, she was turning toward him, splaying her hands across his chest. Tilting her face to his. Delicately pressing her lips to the bristles lining his jaw, even as her fingertips found and traced the contours of his pecs.

  Calling on every ounce of gallantry he possessed, Joe remained very still. Maybe if he pretended he was asleep, he had a prayer of not ruthlessly taking advantage of a woman who—he was still pretty damn sure—was still naively innocent in so many ways….

  Her lips moved across the dimple on his chin. Her hands lower still. There were limits, Joe thought, on how noble he could be. Especially when he wanted her so damn much. He barely contained another groan as he realized he was fully aroused. “Emma…for goodness’ sake—”

  “Hmm?” Her fingertips tucked inside the waistband of his boxer briefs.

  Joe took them right back out. “We can’t play around here.” The kisses at the practice arena had been one thing. Though alone, they had still been in a public place. Public places carried with them a certain amount of risk. Demanded, due to the lack of privacy that, say—his own bedroom in his own home guaranteed—a certain discretion. Although it was never easy to put on the brakes with Emma, period, it was a heck of a lot easier there than here.

  “Why not?” Joe heard the pout in her voice.

  Because I don’t think I can stop. “Because you had a shock tonight,” he said eventually.

  Emma sat up and clasped her arms around her bent knees. She looked over at him, her slender body vibrating with impatience. “So did you.”

  Joe played professional sports—he was used to lots more pressure and stress. “I seem to be handling it better,” he said.

  Emma lay back down and stretched out beside him, so they were lying face-to-face. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be reacting any differently to me right now than you have been since you put that wedding ring on my finger. If that were true,” Emma continued, tracing the springy hairs on his chest, “you would still be doing whatever you could to get me to make love with you.”

  “Believe me,” Joe said as he kissed her hand and pushed her away again, “the complete and utter irony of this situation is not lost on me.” He was finally getting what he had wanted from the first moment he had laid eyes on Emma and could not—would not—take advantage of said opportunity. He rolled onto his back and rested his forearm over his eyes. “I waited until now to develop a selfless streak.”

  “You’ve always been noble. That was in fact the problem. Had you not been noble you would not have refused to stay married to me when you found out who my dad was or that my parents would not approve of my even dating you, never mind becoming your wife! Instead, you would have taken my virginity that night and consummated our marriage, and used that fact as leverage to keep your spot on my father’s NHL team. But you didn’t, and because of that we both suffered.”

  No quarrel there, Joe thought. When it came to Emma, he had a history of making the wrong moves at the wrong time. And for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. Usually, he was all business, focused only on his goals. Unfortunately for both of them, when he was around Emma he had a habit of getting sidetracked, to the point he was no longer thinking with his head, but with his heart. And although heart was needed in the game of hockey, and the even-higher-stakes game of life, it was a mistake to think only with your heart the way Emma obviously was now.

  “The point is, Emma, I want you,” Joe countered gruffly, calling on every ounce of self-control he possessed as he reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. “But I want you when you want me for the right reasons,” he told her as the room was flooded with light once again. “Not when you’re trying to wipe out the memory of our house getting broken into, our peace of mind violated.”

  EMMA COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. He was turning her down! She was offering to take their relationship to the next level, and he was—once again!—playing Sir Galahad. Okay, so her motives weren’t all that pure. She did want to forget. She was using this situation to do something she wasn’t sure she would quite have the nerve to do otherwise. At least not so soon into their in-name-only marriage.

  On the other hand, she had waited seven long years to be with Joe again. Seven long years to find out if making love with her husband would be as spectacularly satisfying and wonderful and yes, romantic, as she had always hoped. She didn’t care how this whatever-it-was-of-theirs turned out in the end—she wanted him to be her first lover. And she would be damned if she was going to let a little thing like a completely uncalled for attack of conscience on his part deter her!

  Emma unfastened the cloth-covered button at her collarbone. She sat up and, taking hold of the hem, slid the silk tunic over her head and tossed it aside. She’d never let him see her naked before, and she thrilled at the excitement in his eyes.

  Stubbornly, she kept her gaze locked with his, even as her heart raced in her chest. “We can do this and be friends, Joe.”

  Joe’s body tautened, exuding so much heat he could practically have started a forest fire all on his own. A worried light came into his eyes. “That’s not what you said last night,” he countered roughly, suddenly seeming all of his twenty-six years. And then some.

  His gaze slid over her soft curves as she shifted
her body over him. Inserting her thighs between his, she settled closer so her bare breasts nestled against the hardness of his chest. He felt so good against her, so warm and strong and male. Emma shot him a sultry smile as the recklessness she always felt when she was around Joe for any time at all took control. He might not want to admit it yet, but he wanted this, too.

  He groaned as her budding nipples rubbed against the mat of hair on his chest. He tangled his fingers in her hair. “Last night you were completely against this.”

  “I know.” Emma pressed a kiss on his collarbone, shoulder, jaw. “But I’ve had time to think, and I’ve changed my mind,” she said as his lower half sprang to life. “We’ve agreed to stay married for the next season or two. We’re becoming friends. We might as well be lovers, too.”

  Giving him no chance to argue, Emma lowered her lips to his. He kissed her back, with the fierce longing she recalled from all those years ago. Need sprang up inside her as their tongues tangled, searching, tasting, giving, taking. Her heart beat hard in her chest as his arms tightened around her. And then they were shifting again, so he was over her. His body hard, demanding as he pressed against her.

  “Damn, Emma,” he muttered as he slipped lower, so his weight was positioned between her thighs. He cupped her breasts with both hands, lifting the softness to his mouth. He stroked the nipples with the pads of his thumbs, then laved them both in turn. Pleasure flooding her in great, hot waves, Emma arched her back and let out a whimper she couldn’t seem to stop. Her fingers fell to the waistband of his briefs, but he was sliding lower still, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her pajama pants and dragging them down over the flatness of her abdomen, to the tops of her thighs. “Beautiful,” he murmured, “so beautiful.” And then his lips moved down there, too. Aware this was the fulfillment of every fantasy she had ever had, she hitched in a trembling breath and caught his head in her hands, tangling her fingers in his hair.

  “Oh… Joe,” she whispered, and this time it was an entreaty, a plea. Knowing exactly what she needed, he took her pajama pants the rest of the way off and pulled her over to the edge of the bed. He knelt on the floor next to her, and then his hands swept back up, to her tender flesh. She shivered as he parted and stroked her moist, womanly folds as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him. New sensations blossomed and then exploded inside her. Her head fell back and then she came apart in his hands, pleasure trembling inside her.

  Joe joined her on the bed and held her close, after the aftershocks had subsided. Aware she was naked, sated but still throbbing, and he was rock hard, straining the front of his boxers, Emma turned to him with a sultry sigh. “Now,” she whispered, stroking his face, even as her heart filled with a depth of love and tenderness she hadn’t known she possessed, “what are we going to do about you?”

  Joe grinned at her in a way that filled Emma with feminine confidence. “That,” he assured her, kissing the back of her hand, “is all up to you. If you still want—”

  “Oh, yes,” Emma said, aware that the pleasure he had just given her had simply fired up her need to have him deep inside her. The depth of his desire for her giving her the confidence to be aggressive, too, she rolled him onto his back, climbed on top of him and lowered her mouth to his. “I want. You better believe I still want, Joe Hart.”

  JOE HADN’T EXPECTED EMMA to let him this close, this soon. He’d expected to have to work for it, the way he’d had to work for everything he’d ever really wanted in this life. Yet here she was—in his arms, in his bed, her lips fastened on his. And it was everything he had ever dreamed. Everything he had ever wanted.

  She was pressed full against him, her hands already sliding down beneath the waistband of his briefs, and this time when she moved to slip them off and find out just how much he yearned to make her his, he let her. The look on her face as she saw him, as she cupped him in her hands for the very first time, drove him to the brink even as the ridge of his arousal grew harder. She slid downward, wanting to explore him, the intimate way he had explored her, but Joe knew they’d never make it to the culmination if he allowed her to kiss and touch him that way right now. So he stretched out over top of her, lowered his mouth to hers and let her lead him where she wanted him to go. He groaned as their tongues twined urgently and her body took up the same primitive rhythm as his, and there was no doubt, where they wanted this to lead. He edged her knees farther apart, lifted her up and eased into her.

  Or he tried to. There was a lot more resistance than he expected.

  Emma’s eyes widened in surprise even as she tried to accommodate him. And Joe knew, as he gently moved past that first fragile barrier, that this wasn’t just their first time, it was her first time. Stunned by the fierce possessiveness welling up inside him, Joe slowed himself down with effort, giving her the time she needed to adjust to the size of him and the feel of him inside her.

  Emma didn’t think she could take much more. He was so big, so hard, so hot. And she was so tight. But as Joe held her against him so tenderly, encircling her with his heat and strength, and kept right on kissing her, her whole body began to relax again. Quivering with sensations unlike any she had ever felt, she moaned as his hand swept between them. Touching, caressing, until desire trembled inside her tummy, making her feel weightless, soft. Her heart pounded in her chest as he tunneled his hands through her hair and lifted her mouth to his.

  “Nothing,” Joe murmured as he kissed her again and again, his body taking up the same, slow, timeless rhythm as his tongue, “has ever felt so right.”

  Emma knew exactly what he meant.

  I love you, she thought, feeling that this was where she belonged—where she had always belonged. And then she was moaning again, moving against him, with him, arching her body up to his, able to hear the soft, helpless sounds in the back of her throat and the fiercer, lower sounds of his own voice in concert with hers. Her spirits soared as he pressed into her as deeply as he could, and then, just that quickly, she was awash in pleasure, shuddering. He followed, free-falling into a pleasure that shimmered between them, seeming to go on and on. And Emma knew at long last what it was to be a part of a man and to have him be part of her.

  LONG MOMENTS PASSED AS JOE held her in his arms. Emma knew what he was going to ask her. And the question wasn’t all that long in coming.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Emma would have liked the cover of darkness at that particular moment. Unfortunately, the bedside lamp was still on. And Joe wasn’t about to let her hide, in any case.

  She shrugged. “I didn’t see the point.”

  “Didn’t see the point or didn’t want me to know?”

  “You know now.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  Silence fell between them. Emma could see the guilt welling up in that handsome head of his. She didn’t want to be anything more he had to regret. Their lovemaking had been too special, meant too much to her, for her to let it be reduced to that. She scowled at him impatiently. “Let’s not dwell on the loss of my virginity, shall we?” She sat up, looking for her pajamas. To her frustration, they weren’t in the tangle of his bedcovers. At least not that she could see. “It had to happen sometime. With someone,” she fibbed with as much face-saving grace as she could muster.

  “Is that so.” His face now bore the same determination he had on game days, as when he took the ice. The kind that made him win, no matter whom he faced or what the obstacles.

  Emma didn’t want to feel like they were in the midst of a high-stakes play-off game, but that was exactly how she felt as they faced each other and he waited for a more detailed explanation of her actions. As if Joe was the star shooter, bearing down on her, and she was the goalie trying to defend the net. She shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world, when she knew darn well it was not. “Well, unless I wanted to head to the Great Beyond without ever…you know…and I don’t. Didn’t. Whatever.” So she had encouraged him to make love to her! All the wa
y! So what?

  His eyes began to sparkle. “So that’s all this was,” he guessed dryly. “A learning-experience thing.”

  Emma flushed. Leave it to her husband to put her on the spot with all sorts of inquires she did not want to answer. “I think…”

  “What?”

  “That what we just did defies categorization.”

  “Not really,” he disagreed.

  Emma quirked a brow.

  “We just consummated our marriage,” he explained with exaggerated patience.

  “So?”

  “So now it’s real,” Joe informed her with a great deal of distinctly male satisfaction.

  Emma was beginning to feel as if she was not only in the midst of a game being played, but a goal scored. “It’s been real in the legal sense all along. That’s how we got in our current mess, remember?” she reminded him as she found the edge of the sheet, pulled it up over her nakedness and tucked it in around her.

  Joe sat back against the headboard, perfectly content to be gloriously, handsomely naked. “Not this real,” he pointed out in a low, relaxed tone. “Not this way.”

  Emma tore her eyes from the sinewy splendor of his body. If she kept looking, she’d start wanting. If she started wanting, she’d start feeling tempted. And they knew where temptation had led them. She folded her arms in front of her defiantly. “What are you saying?”

  “That I like it real,” Joe told her with a sexy grin as he brought her back down on the bed and stretched out beside her. The passion in his low voice fueled her own. “And that I like you.” He tugged her up against his nakedness so there was no doubting, no ignoring his considerable arousal. “And I like making love to you. So much, in fact,” he whispered as he unwrapped the edges of the sheet, parted her knees with his and moved in, pressing hardness to softness, “that I’m going to make love to you all over again.”