Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(24)

And she was utterly lost.

“I am so screwed,” she whispered.

“Not quite yet, you’re not,” he whispered back.

“Sean, don’t do this…”

“I want you,” he whispered against her opened lips. “So. Bad.”

She tried to pull herself out of the dream because she knew they should be talking, but it wasn’t working. This happened to her sometimes in an actual dream, her refusal to wake up because it felt so good to feel her skin against his skin. But she managed to shake her head weakly and whisper, “Not a good idea.”

But he just lingered there, lips to lips, bodies held comfortably close, and the irresistible memory that came was how much Sean loved pleasing her in bed, how committed he was to her pleasure. It was as if his own satisfaction was secondary. How he would tease her, tell her she took advantage of him; that just because he was accommodating didn’t mean she had to be such a glutton about it. In the aftermath, in laughter, he would say things like, Oh, that’s right, if I make you come twice, you’ll let me have one.

She couldn’t remember him ever once suggesting she was holding back, that she needed more warming up.

She felt herself growing soft and moist. And weaker by the moment.

Then he went in for the kill, covering her lips in a powerful and familiar kiss that left absolutely no doubt that he meant business. And she yielded completely. She didn’t know he was going to do that, though she should have. She certainly wasn’t prepared for it, for which she had no excuse, and suddenly all she had in her was acquiescence. She had needed him so much, for so long. His breath came in and out through his nose roughly and she could barely breathe at all. His big hands ran up her back while her arms slowly, cautiously, rose to circle him, join the embrace.

The kiss was long, deep, delicious, hard. Her lips opened; his opened. It was his best demanding kiss, as she remembered it; he was pushing her back against the front door and she pulled him against her harder, making small noises that did not sound like protests. She was pressed to him tightly and one of her hands crept up his neck to the back of his head, holding him against her mouth. She was actually counting the seconds, then lost count and started again. It felt like a ten minute kiss. She couldn’t stop. And she couldn’t take this back, couldn’t pretend she wasn’t in the mood or had decided it was a bad idea. This was it—her statement. The truth was out. She wanted him every bit as much. Then he reluctantly pulled back.

“Let me come in,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “That guy who just left. That’s the guy I’ve been seeing.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to take you away from him.”

“We have issues to sort out…”

“Yeah, and about a lifetime to do it in. Franci, Franci, for just a little while, let’s think about all the things that are right with us, and not the few things we couldn’t agree on.”

“It wasn’t just a good-natured little debate,” she reminded him. “It was so major it caused us to—”

He came down on her mouth hard, pushing her back, taking her mouth with power. She counted the seconds till she couldn’t resist him and then opened her lips, letting him inside. He slipped his hands inside her coat and ran them slowly up her ribs. Her coat open, he pushed her against her own front door with the length of his body, and the press of his arousal right at the V of her legs caused her some serious amnesia. Maybe it was a disagreement, one that wouldn’t be so debilitating now. Whatever it was—she needed him. Needed.

And as had happened only with Sean, acquiescence turned to throbbing hunger. He could make her crazy with desperate desire.

He turned with her in his arms, never releasing her lips, and opened the front door, allowing both of them to move right into her house. He closed the door behind them with a bang and pressed her against it on the inside.

Oh, boy, she remembered this trick. If there was anything as likely to weaken her as taking her to bed, it was pushing her up against the wall. Something most men didn’t have a clue about, Sean had perfected. And she clung to him. He ground against her and she gyrated her h*ps against him, knowing there would be no turning back now. Sean had an unfair advantage; their sex life had been incredible.

In the distance, she heard Harry whine, then growl. It wasn’t like Harry to growl…

“Franci?” he whispered against her lips. “Do you have a dog?”

“Uh-huh. Harry. Little guy. It’s okay.”

“Hm,” Sean answered, going after her lips again. His hands ran smoothly over her bottom to her thighs and he lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he held her there, moaning his approval, slipping his hands under her purple dress to hold her perfect ass. He loved that dress; it felt as silky under his hands as it looked on her body…and he was going to get rid of it as soon as possible.

The growling intensified. Then there was an angry bark and snap just as Harry sunk his teeth into the back of Sean’s leg.

“Arrrggghhh!” Sean rumbled, pulling back sharply, jumping in surprise and shaking one leg, interrupting and disturbing some totally perfect foreplay. “Jesus!”

“What?” she whispered, breathless.

He looked over his shoulder at the dog. “Don’t do that!” he yelled at Harry, causing him to back up and whimper a little. Then he turned back to Franci. “Where’s the bedroom?”