The Virgin Bride (The Australians) by Miranda Lee

‘give’ when making love to Emma was a fallacy. All of a sudden, giving had nothing to do with his feelings. Seduction became the name of the game. Seduction, and coercion, and possibly corruption. He wanted to make her moan again, wanted to make her forget who she was with, wanted her to surrender blindly to his will.
    His mouth ravaged on while his right hand lifted from her face in search of her breasts. He found one through her clothes, warm and soft and surprisingly full. He kneaded it with his fingers, his thumb-pad feeling for, and finding, the nipple. She moaned again, a muffled, choked sound which spoke of a pleasure which both shocked and delighted her. Her back arched away from the seat slightly, pushing her breast more firmly into his highly experienced hand.
    Jason became so caught up in her responses—not to mention his own galloping arousal—that he didn’t at first feel her pushing against his chest. It wasn’t till her struggle turned panicky that he registered she was no longer wanting him to continue.
    He’d never encountered resistance to his lovemaking before. Not at this advanced point. It stunned him, when, for a split second, he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—stop.
    But then he did, his mouth wrenching from hers as he slumped back into his seat. His right hand, which moments before had been teasing her nipple into taut erection, lifted to comb his hair back from his sweat-beaded forehead.
    â€˜Sorry,’ he muttered, furious that he might have just jeopardised his chances with her. But, hell on earth, she could have stopped him sooner.
    She didn’t say a word, just sat there, staring out of the passenger window with her hands clenched tightly in her lap. He saw that her breathing was still erratic and her cheeks were flaming.
    â€˜I said I was sorry, Emma,’ he repeated tautly, his own breathing only now calming down. The rest of him wasn’t in good shape, either, and promised a sleepless night ahead. Either that, or several cold showers. Any other alternative repulsed him these days. He wasn’t a randy adolescent with no self-control. He was a man, a man who wanted a woman, not self-gratification.
    Her head slowly turned and her eyes were wide and glazed-looking.
    â€˜You don’t understand what you’ve just done,’ she said shakily.
    â€˜What? What have I done?’
    â€˜You’ve shattered everything I’ve always believed about myself.’
    â€˜Which is?’
    â€˜That I would only ever feel like this with Dean…’
    â€˜Like what, exactly?’
    â€˜Like this…’ And, taking his hand, she placed it on her breast again, so that he could feel the still hard nipple, plus the mad pounding of her heart beneath.
    The extent of her sexual naivety really hit home. Jason conceded that he could use her lack of experience to bend her to his will—this very night, if he chose. But he knew she would regret it bitterly in the morning. And blame him.
    He wanted her respect, as well as her body. Above all, he wanted her as his wife. So it was against his best interests to seduce her. But he wasn’t going to let her go on believing his hand on her breast was anything more than it was.
    â€˜Love and sex do not have to go hand in hand, Emma,’ he murmured as he knowingly and ruthlessly caressed her breast once more, watching in dark triumph as her lips gasped apart. ‘What you’re feeling is simply a matter of chemistry, and hormones.’
    Abruptly, he removed his hand, more for his own benefit at that point than for hers. There was only so much he could take.
    â€˜You’re a grown woman, Emma,’ he said a little harshly, ‘and you’re probably as frustrated as I am.’
    â€˜But I thought that…that…’
    â€˜That frustration was a male domain? That nice girls didn’t want or need sex?’
    â€˜No. Yes. No. I don’t know. I…I thought