With her conservative New England upbringing, she would never have consented to marry him if he had resorted to force and that's just what he would have done sooner or later. He did love her very much and didn't want to destroy their relationship by some uncontrollable act that he may have committed in the heat of passion. She was too fine a girl for that.

He had to admit, in her favor, that he had nothing else to complain about. She was almost perfection personified in all other respects. In fact, it was that perfection and his piled up frustrations that caused all the trouble back in Paris. That damn body was too perfect!

Things may still have been all right that first night if she hadn't insisted on taking a plane to Paris right after the ceremony. He would have preferred to stay in New York for a few days and take their time in getting to know each other. But, Jean had insisted on Paris immediately. That had meant sitting next to her on that fucking airplane for another seven hours. All that ran through his mind during the entire trip was, where he should hare been at that moment. After all, she had been stressing the ceremony all these months and that was over. She was legally his now and he still couldn't touch her.

It had just been too much. By the time they arrived at the hotel in the center of Paris he was almost out of his mind – and then – she had appeared in the bathroom door in that flimsy hip length nighty. He had gone crazy.

He could still see her standing there in the doorway, her body a lovely thing of art. He had seen her before in a bathing suit, but never like this. Every sensuous detail of her nakedness was lucidly clear, from her tiny rising nipples down to the soft triangle of pubic hair that nestled mysteriously below her white virginal belly.

Suddenly, nothing else had mattered but ramming his hard cock into that teasing flesh. She had become just a woman, a woman that he had to have right now at any cost. All else was forgotten.