Midnight Kiss (Virgin River #12)(49)

Jordan sniffed the air as the rich scent of coffee drifted toward her. There could be real advantages to life with a morning person. Left up to her, coffee often had to wait until she got to the office.

Will’s whistle stopped, replaced by song. Jordan stretched again, then smiled. Wide. With an unaccustomed energy, she leapt from the bed and padded toward the bathroom. Moments later, she pulled back the shower curtain.

Will started at the intrusion of cold air, followed by her undoubtedly cold skin against his back.

She snuggled closer, warming herself against him.

“And good morning to you, darlin’ Jordan.” Rinsing the soap from his face, Will turned to her, broad smile and dimples her reward. “Merry Christmas.”

Jordan wrapped her arms around his neck. “Top of the mornin’ to you, Tweety Bird.”

He grinned, and she plastered her body against his.

His response was instantaneous. Strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her up for a long, heated kiss, his body’s reaction to her as powerful as it had been the night before.

Jordan’s own hunger answered his. She wove fingers into his hair and twined one leg around his muscular thigh. As though she weighed nothing, Will pulled her higher, wrapping her legs around his waist. Pressing her back against the wall of the shower, he thrust inside her in one powerful stroke.

“Damn, I love you,” he gasped, then stopped any protest with his mouth as he took her once more to the refuge only Will had ever shown her.

Jordan’s ability to think incinerated in the heat of her response to his hands, his lips, the feel of him inside her. Bliss roared through her veins and snuffed out all rational thought.

In the aftermath, Will held her tightly, his heaving breath against her throat triggering tiny aftershocks that sent goose bumps over her body. He was an assault on her senses, giving her both thrilling release and a sense of safety she’d never known. Jordan tried to remember why she was bad for him, but she could only feel the sweep of delight through her body.

Will pulled back and grinned, his eyes still dark with passion but sparkling with good humor. “You have a way with a shower, Ms. Parrish. I don’t believe I’ve ever had my back scrubbed with fingernails before.”

Jordan was surprised to feel heat rush to her cheeks. She pulled away slightly.

“Don’t,” he admonished, refusing to let her go. “Don’t ever be embarrassed with me, Jordan. There’s nothing forbidden to us, and it makes me feel grand to have you lose yourself so completely.”

His good humor was infectious. “As if your monumental ego needs any stroking,” she complained.

Crooking one finger under her chin, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Ah, but you make a strong man weak, love.”

Her mouth opened to put him on notice to protect himself, but before she could, he sidetracked her with one more quick, hard kiss.

“Now, my Delilah, let us get washed up. You have not one decent morsel in this place, and I need my strength.” He paused to waggle his brows at her. “As will you.” His grin killed her, just demolished her. “We’ll adjourn to my place, since there are no stores open. One of us, at least, has the sense to stock up on more than yogurt.”

“I wasn’t planning on company.”

“But you had it, anyway, now, didn’t you? Enjoyed it, too, eh?” His smile was smug.

“Some people just can’t take no for an answer,” she grumbled.

Will turned her under the cascading water and began to soap her up. “Someone wakes up grouchy, does she? As I’ve not yet done enough, apparently, to remedy that, let us see what tricks I might have up my sleeve.”

“You don’t have any sleeves. You’re naked.”

“And isn’t that the handiest thing?” Will’s hands slicked over her body, teasing and taunting.

Jordan laughed and set her own fingers to work.

CHAPTER NINE

“IS THERE ANYTHING you don’t do well?” Jordan asked, prostrate on Will’s sofa after devouring a trucker-sized breakfast.

“Let me think on that, darlin’.” A quick, slashing grin. “But doing so might take a while, I’m warning you.”

She burst out laughing. “Careful you don’t scrape that monstrous ego on the ceiling.”

“Ah, but ’tis not bragging if it’s true, now, is it?” He lifted her feet and sat down, then resettled them on his lap and began rubbing.

Jordan was pretty sure her eyes rolled back in her head.

“There was the one time when my sister Brigid asked me to help her fix a dye job on her hair without Mum finding out what she’d done to herself.”

Jordan smiled. “And how were you as a hair-dresser?”

He shrugged. “Was it my fault that I chose to be, shall we say, creative with the mixing?” His eyes twinkled. “Brigid wound up with purple hair.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“So she accused. Me, I’d merely claim it as her just deserts after all the times I’d been forced to play silly girl games with her when I wanted to be out with the other lads.”

“I’d bet you played those games with her because you were a good boy.”

“I’m thinking you’ve just insulted me. I am not a tame rabbit.” Then he chuckled. “Anyway, I’d like you to be telling my mum that. She’d be of a different opinion. I was a hooligan, and that’s a fact.”