The Maverick’s Virgin Mistress / Lone Star Seduction: The Maverick’s Virgin Mistress. Jennifer Lewis

Tonight’s the night.

      Alicia tried to keep her breathing steady as he opened the door and ushered her inside.

      She’d left the room spotless and perfectly organized—just in case. No makeup scattered on the dressing table or pantyhose spread over the chairs. She’d even turned the sheets back and opened a sachet of lavender into a little dish to add a fresh, floral scent.

      She shuddered slightly as Rick pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. She rubbed against him, startled and thrilled by the hard length in his pants. Heat flooded her limbs and she wondered if it would be indecent to start unbuckling his belt while she still had control of her fingers.

      But he pulled back and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “Sleep tight, my beauty. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      As the door closed behind him, Alicia fought the urge to scream with frustration.

       What’s wrong with me?

      Chapter Three

      Justin leaned back against the closed door of his bedroom and cursed the lust that roared through his body like fire. He was hard as any rock in the Texas hills. His muscles ached and throbbed with the urge to pull Alicia closer. To undress her and lick every inch of her warm, silky body. To make her cry out in hunger and desire as he pleasured her all night long.

      A low groan escaped his mouth and echoed in the still air of his bedroom.

      Thank heaven he’d still managed to behave like a gentleman.

      Alicia came to him looking for sanctuary, not seduction. She was shaken by the fire and by the strange accusations of arson flying through the rarefied air of Somerset. It was his duty to comfort her and make her feel safe.

      He shook his head as if that might dislodge the lustful thoughts rambling around his brain. It wasn’t her fault she was built like a sex goddess, with curves that could bring a grown man to his knees.

      He marched across his room and flipped on the jets in the shower.

      Cold.

      The sound of her own cry woke Alicia with a start.

      She sat upright in bed and searched for the familiar digital face of her clock.

      Instead, the stiff tick-tock of an antique carriage clock reminded her that she wasn’t at home. In the darkness she had no idea what time the strange clock read.

      Sweat pricked her brow and images from her nightmare crowded her mind. The embroidered bedcover clung to her like the rich lace of the dress she’d been wearing in her dream.

      A wedding dress.

      Standing at a kind of altar—or was it outdoors?—she watched as handsome men in suits and evening dress approached, bearing gifts and smiling.

      Some of them looked familiar, like Remy, the exchange student from France she’d dated (very) briefly her sophomore year of college. And Lars, the boy from Minnesota who’d made the mistake of challenging Alex to a game of tennis when he came to pick her up.

      Others looked new, unfamiliar, each handsome and smiling and staring at her with the heat of passion in his eyes.

      Until a fierce growl erupted out of the night—wait, wasn’t it day?—and sent each suitor scurrying into the distance, passion forgotten.

      Stop! The silent words had scratched at her throat. Wait! Don’t leave me here all alone.

      Please?

      A sob rose in her throat and tears behind her eyelids. The growl filled the air around her again, and she turned, frightened of the monster who’d chased away so many strong men.

      But the monster was also a man. Tall and broadly built, his dark eyes filled with…love.

      Her brother, Alex.

      “Oh, Alex, why do you have to be so suffocating? Let me be. Let me live!” The words rattled in her brain as the first tears flowed.

      She realized she’d woken up at the exact moment in the dream when she’d looked down at her hands. They’d been gnarled and spotted with age. Wrinkled and ringless. The hands of an old woman.

      She glanced at them now in the dark, relieved by their smooth, familiar outline in the reflected glow of moonlight through the crack in the curtains.

      In the dream they’d been different.

      She startled awake as the horrible truth of the dream sank in: she was still a virgin. An eighty-year-old virgin.

      A racking sob heaved her chest. Why me? What was so wrong with her? Sure, she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world, but ordinary women managed to marry and have children. Or go on dates.

      Or even go all the way.

      Just once!

      She’d been so sure she’d break her losing streak tonight, that Rick would finally pop the rather wizened cherry she’d been keeping secret for years now because it was so horribly embarrassing to be still a virgin.

      Twenty-six, for crying out loud! She was probably the only twenty-six-year-old virgin in the entire state of Texas. Or the whole United States.

      Maybe even the whole world.

      A wail escaped her lips as she collapsed back on to her pillow. At that moment, light streamed into the room as the door was flung open. Rick stood in the doorway.

      “Alicia, what’s the matter?” His voice rang with concern.

      “I…I…I…” I want to make love to you.

      Did she want him to know that she was a freak? A grown woman who’d never been kissed below the neck? Who’d never seen a man naked, or felt his hands on her bare skin?

      Tears streamed down her face.

      Rick approached the bed. “Don’t cry, Alicia. I know last night was a horrible shock. But at least no one was hurt. They’ll rebuild the barn and they’ll catch the criminal who set the fire.”

      Through her fog of tears she felt his fingers caress her tangled hair. But she didn’t want comfort. She wanted breathless passion.

      She thrust out her arms and wrapped them around his neck, then crushed her mouth against his. Parted in surprise, his lips hesitated a moment before joining in the kiss.

      Rising to her knees, she pressed her body against his through her long nightgown. Her nipples hardened against the bare muscle of his chest. The stubble of his cheek was a sweet balm to her fevered skin.

      Don’t stop! She tightened her grip around him, determined not to let him escape.

      “Alicia.” He managed to free his mouth for a second to gasp her name. “I’m not sure this…”

      She fumbled with the strings of his pajama pants, unsure how her hands had found them, but intent on getting them undone immediately.

      “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” Rick flinched as her hand brushed against his rock-hard erection.

      She yanked on a string, but the knot was tight and she couldn’t work it loose. Still jerking at it with one hand, she raised the other to tug down the shoulder strap of her nightgown.

      The thin satin tore easily and she pulled down the gown to bare her breast. Cool night air tightened her nipple.

      “Touch me,” she pleaded, still tugging at his pajamas.

      Rick lifted a tentative palm to her bare breast. She shuddered hard as he brushed her nipple.

      “Alicia, I don’t know if this is a good idea.” She heard him swallow. “You seem a little…overwrought.”

      With a burst of elation she pulled open the knot holding his pajamas closed and started to push them down over his hips.

      “Really,