Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(26)

“Ahhhh,” he sighed. “Oh, honey,” he whispered so softly she barely heard. “Oh, baby, that’s the way…” And then he took his—thrusting into her hard, letting it go, throbbing with his own pleasure.

Then she fell limp, satisfied, a pile of stress and yearning that had gone all soft and weak beneath him. A small laugh escaped her. Something about a fabulous orgasm always made her laugh a little.

Really, she hadn’t had one like that in a good four years.

“Funny?” he asked.

“Not even,” she said. Then she laughed again, softly, lightly. “I suddenly feel so good.”

“No kidding,” he said, and he rolled off her carefully, lying beside her, spent.

He dashed off to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, then was back, holding her again. They were quiet for a few moments. Then Franci turned onto her side, raised up on an elbow, looked down into his handsome green eyes and said, “Now, we can’t do that again. We have to sort out our issues.”

“Oh, Jesus,” he said. “Why me?”

“Why you, what?”

“This isn’t the best time to become completely irrational,” Sean said.

“Well, I don’t think I’m irrational at all, but why do you say that?” she asked.

“We’re naked,” he answered. “We’re na**d after the best sex either one of us has had in a long time, and we should be cuddly. You used to want to be cuddly. What’s wrong with you?”

She frowned at him. “How do you know that’s the best sex I’ve had in a long time?”

“You tore my clothes off. You left scars on my back.” He smiled at her. “Just an observation, hardly a complaint.”

“Well…actually…Oh, never mind, it’s really not your business.”

“Your dog bit me,” he said. “I think he severed my Achilles tendon.”

“I told you,” she went on, “I didn’t stop living when you told me to hit the road,” she said, ignoring his accusation about her cocker spaniel.

“Franci, Franci, that isn’t what I did. You said you were leaving—I said fine, if that’s the way you feel. Come on, not now. Not tonight. And it doesn’t matter if you had sex with someone. Or with a hundred—Forget I said that. I don’t want to think about this.”

“I don’t sleep around like you do,” she said, curling against him. “We can’t do this again,” she said, but she made no attempt to cover herself and neither did he. They lay there, snuggled, nude, in post-coital rapture.

“I think we can do it again before morning,” he said.

“No, this isn’t going to work. We’re not lovers, Sean. We’re ex-lovers. That’s why that went so well. That’s all it is.”

“I doubt that’s all,” he replied.

“Oh, that’s all. You and I had pretty much perfected it by the time we split up.”

“Wanna bet?” he asked, covering her body with his. “We had it perfected the first time. I remember, and so do you.”

Damned if he wasn’t right. She couldn’t see her way out of this mess.

“We do have one little problem. I had that one condom, just for safekeeping. I don’t have another one.”

She sighed in resignation that came too easily. “I might have a couple.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Baby, everything is up.”

Great sex not only made Franci feel good, it made her very sleepy. They made love twice more. Softer and sweeter and slower, but just as mind-bending. They spent hours making love. Then she pushed herself up against Sean in a way that was at once brand-new and very familiar. She used to sleep with him this way—her back up against his front, her head on his arm while his lips bothered her neck. He used to pull her long hair aside to kiss, lick and suck on her neck, but there was no hair to get in his way now. His arm was draped over her waist, his hand capturing her breast. She felt, for the first time in such a long time, like she was in the right place at the right time. But probably with the wrong man.

Morning would be soon enough to feel guilty and stupid. So, she slept.

“Were you ever lonely, Franci?” he asked in a whisper against her neck. “Without me?”

Her eyes popped open, but she kept her breathing even, pretending to be sleeping.

“I never thought about it, about being lonely without you,” he whispered. “But I kept wondering why I was so empty.” He kissed her neck. “I looked for you in so many women and never understood why it didn’t work. Never understood it was because I loved you.”

She pinched her eyes closed against a tear.

He sighed deeply, pulling her close against him. “I want to take you to the Alps to ski—we used to talk about doing that. Remember? And I want to go with you to Aruba, to dive and lay on the beach. We’ll get one of those huts on stilts—we’ll make love outside.”

She heard him yawn deeply; he kissed her neck again.

“I thought eventually I’d get over you. I didn’t know I’d never get over you because I loved you.”

And then the talking stopped and she heard his light snore. Very softly she whispered, “Yes, I was lonely. You have no idea…”