My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(30)

Patrick knew that, by her age, a lot of young women had had more than one serious boyfriend; they at least knew what they wanted. Patrick had been with a number of women, beginning when he was seventeen, and many of them, though young, had things to teach him. He sensed this was not the case with Angie. She’d had other concerns—like being valedictorian to every class she attended, even coming out with two degrees. You didn’t get honors like that by spending a lot of time making out.

He pulled her fully into his arms, her body flush against his, and kissed her wildly, madly. He gently and slowly toyed with one breast, waiting for that hand to stop him. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and slid his hand under the soft fabric of her sweatshirt where he found… Ahhh, naked. Her perfect, small breast filled his hand and he groaned, running a thumb over a hardened nipple.

His lips slid to her neck and he kissed his way from her ear downward. Then he whispered, “How do you feel about ditching the shirt?”

“Excellent. If you ditch yours.”

“I can do that,” he said.

He yanked off his own, almost ripping off buttons. So much for slow, he thought. He couldn’t get down to skin fast enough and he hoped, no, he prayed she was ready to take a chance on going further. Once his chest was bare, he slowly lifted her sweatshirt over her head and just gazed at her as she sat in front of him.

There were a few scars—a small line a few inches below her left breast, a thin but longer scar along her abdomen and a lump on her collarbone where it looked as if it had once been broken. He traced each mark with his finger, then leaned forward and retraced the same path with his lips. Eager to see her spread before him, he leaned her back to the floor and entertained himself with her lovely br**sts, stroking, kissing and licking them with equal attention. Angie sighed, her eyes drifting closed. Hovering over her, his thumbs teasing those perfect ni**les erect again, he watched with a sense of pride as she moaned and arched her back, her br**sts reaching up to him for more.

With a force he didn’t have all that much control over, he was pushing his erection against the vee where her legs met…and she pushed back. She rolled her h*ps beneath him, wanting. Begging. He made use of a secret weapon—an erection in a pair of tough jeans right against her most sensitive part. He gently pushed apart her legs and held himself between them, rubbing those hard jeans against her. And then he dipped his mouth to her nipple and gently tugged it into his mouth, teasing with his tongue before sucking.

Her hands were in his hair, holding his head; her head tilted back and her back arched farther as she pushed against him. A soft primal sound came out of her. She stiffened; she shuddered. He held that nipple tight between his lips while nature took its course and had its way with her. God, what a beauty; what a hot, amazing beauty. It was a long few seconds before she collapsed beneath him and he traded the nipple for her lips.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “It just happened.”

He brushed her hair back at her temple. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for good things that happen between us. It’s a wonderful thing. You’re a passionate girl.”

“Woman,” she corrected.

He smiled and then chuckled. “All woman,” he admitted. “Baby, you have no idea how special you are.”

He kissed her lips, ear, neck, chin, br**sts, leisurely getting to know her body. And then, giving her plenty of time to put that hand against his chest, he slowly slipped his own hand lower, skimming her stomach and moving down past the waist of those loose sweats. Once again, paradise came in the form of no underwear. As he slid his hand lower, she opened her legs and lifted her hips, welcoming him. He growled against her neck as his fingers pushed lower into the warm silk of her folds.

And she purred back at him, pushing against his hand.

“What do you think, Angie? Too much? Too fast?”

She just shook her head, biting her lower lip, eyes closed.

He stilled his hand. “Look at me, Angie,” he whispered tenderly. “I have to see your eyes.” She opened them dreamily, a small smile on her lips. He couldn’t resist her. “I’ll make love to you if you want me to.”

“I want you to. You have to promise to tell me what feels good to you, though. I’m not sure I’ll know.”

He smiled down into her eyes. She had a look of satisfaction on her flushed face. “I promise,” he whispered. “Somehow I think you’re the only thing I need.”

Because he was a gentleman, he disrobed first so he wouldn’t leave her na**d and waiting. He sat back, pulled a condom out of his wallet and got rid of his jeans, tossing them after the shirt over the back of the couch. As he rolled on the condom, she raised onto her elbows to look at him.

“Hoo boy,” she said softly.

He just grinned at her before gently sliding off her pants. She was so beautiful his mouth watered. He carefully lowered himself over her; all he wanted in the world right now was to be sure she never regretted this.

“You’re trembling,” she whispered.

“I know. I’m trying to be careful with you. But the truth is, I can’t get into you fast enough....”

She ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek. “I’m okay, Paddy. You can let go.”

“Sweetheart, if I let go, I’m afraid I’ll tear you apart, I want you that bad.”

She reached down between their bodies and gave him a brief stroke before positioning him. He had barely touched her when, with a will of its own, he slid into her. Her eyes widened for just a second, then gently closed. He held her still, filling her, and the trembling stopped at once. “Better,” she said.