Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(41)

“You were alone with me all week!”

“Yeah, but the guys were all here. Once I knew they’d all be gone, that I wouldn’t have to look Rich in the eye in the morning… That’s when it started to get really…hard,” he said, emphasizing the word with agony.

“What’s hard?” she asked. She reached out and touched his arm. “My God, you’re freezing!”

He took a deep breath. “Cold shower, Becca.”

“What for?” she asked, genuinely stumped. He rolled his eyes and she realized exactly what was hard. “Oh! But why?”

“Because, Becca… Are you going to make me say it?”

She pushed herself up in the bed a little bit. “I think you’d better, because I had myself convinced you had a girlfriend and you were feeling guilty about spending all this time with me.”

“It’s you, Becca. I’m miserable being alone with you and your broken ankle and knowing I can’t get too close or I might just lose my mind. Knowing I’d have to face the guys every morning—that kind of kept my head on straight. But they’re gone, it’s just you and me. You, me and your boyfriend! And I don’t think I can be alone here with you. Okay?”

Her blue eyes were wide and her lips parted slightly as she stared at him. Finally she said, “Seriously?”

He glanced away. “I’ll just go out to Jack’s,” he said, standing.

She grabbed his ice-cold hand. “You don’t have to go to Jack’s.”

“Yeah, I do. Because I’m afraid even if I can fall asleep, I’ll walk in my sleep and you’ll have your hands full in the middle of the night.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t want you to leave. Especially for that reason.”

“Aren’t you listening? I haven’t felt this out of control in years. I took a twenty-minute cold shower and still…”

Her eyes wandered downward and there it was, the evidence of his misery. A very obvious erection straining against the sweatpants he slept in. “Oh, my,” she said, smiling at him. “You don’t want to go out in the cold with that. You could hurt yourself.”

“Funny,” he said. “You have a broken ankle! Not to mention what’s-his-name.”

She shook her head. “No more what’s-his-name.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t exactly plan it, but when I called him today, I broke it off.” She shook her head again. “It wasn’t right, Denny. I’m not meant to be with him. And he’s really not meant to be with me.”

“Why?” he asked in a breath.

“To start with, I had way too many doubts.” She shrugged. “Now I realize it never did feel quite right.”

He reached out and smoothed her hair back along her temple. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m better,” she said. “I talked to my brother today. He was surprised, but even Rich said he just couldn’t see me with him… With Doug. Imagine that? Rich.”

Denny laughed briefly. “Rich Timm?” he asked.

“The same. Anyway, that’s that.”

Denny got a kind of bedazzled look in his eyes. “You still have a broken ankle…”

“Yes,” she said, pulling him toward her. She put his hand to her mouth and kissed his palm. “Try to be careful of that, will you?”

He resisted for a second, studying her face. Thinking. Considering. “Whoa boy,” he said. “You’re sure?”

And she nodded.

Ten

Denny put his cold hands on her, framing her face, sliding his fingers into her hair. He leaned down to kiss her, briefly at first. Then his mouth was harder against hers. He tongued open her lips and she opened to him willingly. Oh, God, the taste! That was the taste she remembered and loved. He kissed her senseless for a moment and then one knee came up onto the bed, then the second, then he was straddling her. His lips were on her mouth, her cheek, her ear, her neck. She drank him in; his breathing grew ragged and excited.

She laughed right into his open mouth.

“Funny?” he asked, pulling away a little bit.

“You are soooo cold.”

“That won’t last long…” He went after her again, pulling her mouth hard against his; his tongue explored and he groaned from someplace deep inside.

For her, it felt at once like coming home and a whole new experience.

He felt her small, warm hands slip under his T-shirt and caress his chest and back. “My God, you’re even cold under here.”

“Warm me up,” he said, his voice soft and husky. “You know what to do….”

She lifted up the T-shirt. “I think you’ll warm up faster without this.”

He pulled away from her just long enough to rip his shirt over his head. He was back to devouring her with kisses, but she’d managed a look at him, at his wide chest with that soft mat of hair and his flat belly.

While he kissed her, she caressed his back and slid her small hands under the waistband of his sweats to feel his hard butt. He worked on the buttons of her pajamas, taking his sweet time, and she found herself wishing she’d had the foresight to bring something sexier than warm jammies to Virgin River.

Finally he spread the pajama top and just stared at her. “Becca,” he said in a whisper. “Ah, Becca, you have the most beautiful body in the world.”