Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(45)

"Do you have to talk?" she asked him, reaching her lips to his.

He laughed softly. "I have to talk about what's happening with us. It's like magic." Then his lips were on her breast, his fingers in her, rubbing her, invading her. He moved to her mouth, back to her nipple, to her mouth, her other nipple, and all the while his hand was working its magic, fingers in and out, palm or thumb massaging her most vulnerable spot. She stiffened, threw her head back, groaned deep in her throat and he said, "Let it go, baby. Come for me." She grabbed his shoulders and obliged.

The tenor singing in the background reached some kind of emotional crescendo and the sound throbbed through Clay's body as Lilly's sweet center clenched him; her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nipple puckered in his mouth and she came. And came. And came. It lasted so long, he lost his breath. The second it seemed to begin to let go of her, he kissed his way down her body and put his mouth on her, licking, kissing, sucking. She still quivered there; she'd loosened his long hair and it fell in a canopy around her hips, her fingers threaded into it at his temples. She came again. Above the loud, thrumming music he heard her cry, "Oh, God, oh, Clay!" And he lost it. He went off like a rocket, pressing his throbbing erection against her leg, letting it come and licking her until they were both complete.

She had cried out his name. Maybe, if all his wishes came true, it was more than just sex for her. He'd hoped to perform better, but the second he had her on his tongue, there was no help for it.

He kissed his way up her body, ended on her lips, lay on his side and pulled her against him. He was breathless; she was flushed. He kissed her cheek, her lips, her ear. He whispered, "I didn't even know I liked opera." And she laughed, digging her fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth onto hers again.

Nine

Clay found a large, soft towel in Lilly's bathroom and cleaned her up with smooth, gentle strokes. He tossed the towel on the floor, pulled back the covers on her bed and they both climbed in.

"You look awfully comfortable," she whispered, snuggling up next to him.

The opera in the other room had ended, finally. At least they could talk in the hushed tones of lovers now. Clay's laughter was deep and playful. "I can honestly say that I'm more comfortable than I've been in a very long time. And I think there's even more comfort to be found--just give me time."

She combed his long hair with her fingers and said, "Tell me why you're here."

"I couldn't resist you," he said. "I've known since the second I saw you that I wanted this with you. This and more. As we got to know each other better, the hunger grew."

"I don't even know how you ended up in my part of the world. I know you and Nate are old friends, but I'm sure there are lots of old friends. Why are you working and living here?" she asked. "Just because of your sister and Gabe?"

"There's more to it than that, but that's a lot of it. I was adrift in Los Angeles. It wasn't the place for me--never was. I've worked with Nathaniel before, when he was in Southern California, before his father retired and left the practice to him. I was looking for a way out of L.A. so when he called it seemed like the perfect opportunity. And..." He paused. "Lilly, I was married. We divorced two years ago, but it didn't give me much distance from my wife. I worked for her family. It was important that I break away from that relationship."

"You almost sound as though you're confessing something," she said. She smoothed the long, dark hair over his ear. "It's not a crime to be divorced. A lot of people have been married before. I'm sorry if it was painful for you." And more quietly she added, "And for her."

"The marriage was her idea. The divorce was inevitable and also her idea. We were too different--an heiress and a common Navajo farrier. I thought I could take care of her in spite of that. About some things I can be so naive."

She smiled at him. "There's nothing common about you," she said. "Did it break your heart? The divorce?"

"Hard to tell," he admitted. "My heart was at war with my pride. I felt like I had failed her." He gave her a kiss. "But I'm done talking about that. I'd rather talk about us."

"Is there an us?"

"Oh, you know there is. Unless you'd like to talk about him. The boyfriend."

She couldn't help herself; she laughed softly. "It's not at all what you think, Clay, or I wouldn't be with you like this now. About us...?"

He took her small hand and pulled it to him; he was already becoming aroused again. "Just the beginning of us."

She reached past his shoulder to the bedside stand and lifted the little foil package. "It would be a bad idea to forget really important things," she said, ripping it open and taking it upon herself to apply the condom.

At her very touch he let out a breath. He raised himself over her, covered her lips with his, even as he separated her legs with his knees and teased her very center with the tip of his sheathed penis. He held his weight off her as he probed her. "We'll get to all the other things later. There's nothing at all complicated about this. I need to be inside you."

And she needed him there. She already felt a lovely, satisfying intimacy with him, but there was a need deep inside her that she'd ignored for so long, that need to be possessed. She didn't answer him, but simply tilted her h*ps toward him and he lowered himself carefully. Slowly. Gently. She was so small and he was so big; it brought tears to her eyes as he moved within her with such caution and care.