It hurt.
She tried to push him off, but she couldn’t. “Meggie, Meggie, just lie still, relax, trust me.”
“No, no,” she said, trying frantically to scramble away from him, to get his finger out of her, “it’s far too late for any trust. This isn’t going to be nice, it’s going to be bad. That’s just your finger, Thomas. I held you between my hands. You are much more than just one of your fingers, and that’s what you’re going to do, isn’t it? You’re going to stick yourself inside me.”
He managed a “yes.” It was bad? What he was going to do to her was bad? He eased his finger a bit deeper, then stopped. Oh God, he wanted her so much he ached to his feet, and she was claiming his damned finger was bad? He wanted her this very instant, and by God, he wasn’t going to wait. He just couldn’t. He came over her, his eyes on himself and on her, and came slowly inside her. Slowly, he moved forward. She was stiffer than a board. Her hands were fisted at her sides. Well, damn. He went just a bit more, felt her maidenhead.
“Meggie.”
He looked down at her, really looked at her despite feeling like he would explode inside her at any instant, and this time he looked into those bright blue eyes of hers. Seemingly so guileless, those blue eyes of hers, filled with openness, no shadows lurking about anywhere at all in the depths of those eyes, but he knew it for a lie, a lie that had cut him to his knees, just hours before, but there was no going back. He hated her at that moment because of her goodness, because of her damned sense of honor, because of her betrayal. He hated the man she obviously still adored, hated that she adored him, and not her husband. She shouldn’t have led him on, shouldn’t have made him want her so quickly, so effortlessly, made him want to marry her. The fact was, she was betraying him in her heart and it was their wedding night. Was she thinking of him even as he pushed into her? He saw Jeremy’s face, heard Meggie’s voice. It all mixed with his lust and he butted her maidenhead. She yelled, struggling beneath him, trying to throw him off, but unable to. He paused for just an instant when he butted against her maidenhead.
“Thomas, no!”
She’d forced him into a life of lies. He looked into her eyes as he yelled his pain, his fury, his lust, and pushed through her maidenhead.
Meggie didn’t have the breath to yell again or to curse or the will to move. It was very simple, really. She knew he’d killed her, a body couldn’t continue after what he’d done. She realized that she’d been told a very big lie. Surely a man didn’t treat a woman like this if he loved her, surely. But then again Thomas had never said he loved her.
He suddenly stopped cold, and he was staring down at her again, looking right into her eyes, and he seemed to be fighting with himself about something she couldn’t begin to understand. He said, “No, I can’t do this. Not with you feeling the way you do. I can’t, just can’t.” And he moaned, deep in his throat even as he jerked out of her, came to his knees, stiffened, and climaxed. Then he hung there, his head bowed.
Meggie hurt inside, he’d made her bleed, she just knew it, and then he’d left her, rejected her. She yelled now, but not with pain, it wasn’t all that bad now, truth be told, but she yelled at the top of her lungs with resentment, with rage that she’d actually been excited, actually anticipated this lovemaking business, and just look what he’d done—he’d hurt her, then left her. A man wasn’t supposed to do that, was he?
He was breathing hard, his head bowed, and he’d not wanted to stay with her. And now she’d bleed. She should have demanded to know about the bleeding business before she’d even let him unfasten all those nice safe buttons on her gown. But no, she was an idiot, she’d trusted him, and now he was on his knees between her legs, heaving, looking at if he were dying. It was as if a sort of cataclysm had racked him all the way to the soles of his wretched feet.