THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

He sucked her exhaled breath into his lungs and murmured, “Now.”
    As he thrust forward, she cried out and turned to marble beneath him.
    Red pain seared through her.
    Not now, God! Not now!
    Rigid, unable to breathe, Beth asked God why he’d chosen this moment to take her. And why on earth had He taken a cleaver to her? Surely, she’d died just a heartbeat from ecstasy.
    She’d never forgive Him. First, He gives her this face, then takes her parents, and then ends her life using mind-bending pain and neglects to give her the bright light at the end of the tunnel? How cruel could He get? She hadn’t done anything to deserve this. Nor ever. She began to cry.
    She felt a light touch on her cheek and opened her eyes. “Oh.” Duncan hovered above her. She mustered a tiny smile. She hadn’t died, after all. She’d merely been impaled. Dear God above.
    “Ssh, dearest, dinna cry. ‘Twill pass in a moment.” She still couldn’t speak, and it certainly didn’t help when he amended, “Or two. Mayhap three, but ‘twill pass.”
    God, I am literally screwed to a mattress, here! Are you listening? I’m serious! HELP!
    Duncan caught a tear as it slid down her cheek. “I swear before God, lass, I didna ken ye to be a virgin.” He looked as dejected as she felt. “I thought ye a widow , was told so, in fact. Had I known...” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers.
    They were still physically engaged, but she could feel the pressure lessening, the pain easing within her hips. He hadn’t moved—not by so much as a millimeter from the waist down since entering her. She appreciated his restraint more than words could convey, but...
    “Duncan, is this hurting your shoulder?”
    He shook his head.
    And pigs fly , she thought, seeing beads of sweat multiply rapidly across his forehead. She ran a fingertip along his finely crafted lower lip before closing her eyes to focus on where they were joined. The pain had eased considerably. “Duncan?”
    “Aye, lass?”
    “Could we roll onto your right side?”
    “But yer pain...”
    “It’s fading.” When he continued to look skeptical, she touched his cheek. “I knew this would happen. I’d been forewarned. You did well.”
    “Nay, lass, ye dinna reach the stars. Ye wept.”
    He looked dejected. Rachael had been right. Men apparently did have very fragile egos, at least when it came to making love. And he had done everything right. He’d been slow, careful, had brought her to the brink of madness. She’d been ready—past ready if the truth were told—when he entered her. How could you fault a man because he’s—what’s the expression?—hung like a horse?
    He looked humiliated and in obvious pain. She had to get him onto his side. Hoping she sounded naïve, she asked, “Is this all there is to making love?”
    He heaved a sigh. “Nay, lass, ‘tis much more...or should be.”
    “If that’s so, please, hold me tight and roll onto your right side.”
    He shook his head again. “Remain still and soon matters will return to their normal state. Then we can separate without ye being hurt further.”
    And meanwhile your shoulder’s probably tearing apart . “But I want to see these stars you spoke of. You want me to, don’t you?”
    “Aye, but not this night, ladywife.” His expression told her it might be never.
    She studied his mouth and furrowed brow as her body adjusted to its new reality. The dreaded deed was done, her virginity a thing of the past. She couldn’t have stopped returning his kisses, nor banked her growing need, nor squelched her enjoyment in feeling his solid masculinity quaking with pent up need for her-—plain ol’ Beth—had there been a gun to her head.
    She knew to her marrow she’d done exactly what she’d sworn never to do.
    She’d fallen in love. Hopelessly, head over heels in love.
      With that admitted, she could see no logical reason not to seek the gold at the end of the virginity rainbow, and in the process get her handsome but reluctant hubby off his damn shoulder.
    “Roll with me.”
    “Nay, ye dinna ken what ye ask. ‘Tis best to wait.”
    She tipped up his chin, bringing his lips within range, and then slowly ran her tongue along the crease as he had done to her. From his surprised expression, she decided she must be a good student, a quick study. She stroked his jaw, “Husband, I don’t understand the rules here, but where I come from, the show’s not over till the fat lady sings.’” He