The Innocent Virgin by Carole Mortimer

Author:Carole Mortimer
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2010-05-05T01:32:51.921000+00:00

It was dark when she woke, some time later, briefly disorientated by the knowledge of another presence. Then, as Max sat up and quietly moved to the other side of her bed, it all came back to her in a warm rush of well-being: their incredible lovemaking, being held in Max’s arms afterwards, her head resting on his shoulder as he cradled her against him and they both drifted off to sleep.

Max hadn’t commented on it last night—and she hoped he never would—but he had been her first lover.

She wasn’t a prude—hadn’t lacked opportunities either. And of course there had been Andrew. It was just that she had been brought up to believe that love, not curiosity, was the only reason for making love with someone—that the body as well as the emotions was a precious gift, not to be given lightly.

But until Max she had never been in love…

And, being the newly awoken lover that she was, even in her sleep she’d been completely attuned to Max’s slightest movement—knowing the moment his arms left her and the warmth of his body was removed from her side. She turned her head on the pillow now, to look at the broad expanse of his back reflected in the moonlight from the undrawn curtains at the window. But he didn’t move, simply sat there, seeming unaware that she was awake.

‘What are you doing?’ Even her voice sounded different in her knowledge of what it was to make love: softer, more sensual.

Max turned sharply, his face all shadows in the moonlight, his eyes unreadable. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’

Abby shook her head, her hair darkly tangled on the pillow beneath her. From the wild caress of Max’s hands, she remembered warmly.

‘You didn’t.’ She smiled, stretching her newly awakened body. Every ache was a pleasurable one. Even the bruises she was sure would be on her shoulders from the pressure of Max’s fingers as their desire had spiralled out of control were something to be cherished and held to her. Like battle scars. Except these were love scars…‘What are you doing?’ she repeated more urgently as Max stood up and began to pull on the items of clothing—denims, and boxer shorts—that littered the bedroom carpet.

He zipped his jeans over perfect hips before answering her. ‘Leaving you to get some more sleep.’

‘But—’

‘I need to get home to shower and change; I have an early appointment this morning, Abby.’ He moved to sit on her side of the bed, reaching down to caress the hair from her face, smoothing the frown from between her eyes with the pad of his thumb. ‘I’ll call you later, okay?’

No, it was not okay. She didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to go back to sleep, wanted the two of them to make love again. And again. And again. She wanted Max to stay!

Her absolute certainty from last night, of loving and being loved, began to fade in the increasing daylight in the bedroom. Max’s expression revealed nothing of what he did or didn’t feel towards her.

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