Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(35)

After a minute passed, he carefully lifted her and she looped her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry about growing your bones back. You’re not going to have to walk for a while,” he whispered. He carried her to the bed with his lips locked on hers. He put her down and climbed on beside her, pulling her into his arms. “Yeah, this is going to work better. Yeah, I like this,” he said, settling his lips against her neck and his hand over her breast. “Now we start over. Nice and slow.”

Dylan felt Katie stir against him and he instinctively pulled her closer. He wanted her again.

“Best sex of your life?” he asked in a whisper.

“I’m not ready to commit,” she whispered back.

He chuckled. “Was for me,” he said.

“But…”

“Seriously,” he said. “And it was for you, too.”

“Don’t go getting a big head, just because I had a couple of orgasms—”

“Four,” he said. “I gave you four and helped myself to two.”

“You’re counting?” she asked, rising up and looking down at him.

“I’m going to keep counting, too. I think you can reach your personal best.” He grinned at her.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I was sleeping, until you started wiggling around…” He nuzzled her neck. “I can do better. Just trust me…”

“We made love on the floor,” she murmured. “Ten feet from the bed…”

“Hmm. I think I lost my mind a little bit. Are there rug burns?” he asked, trying to roll her over. “I’ll give them a little kiss…” He found a couple of pink patches on her rump and did kiss them sweetly. Then he rolled her back and his hands and lips began to move over her body again.

“Boy, am I glad the rumors weren’t true.”

“What rumors?” he asked, his voice muffled.

“There were lots of them. I think the worst one had you in a drug-induced coma in an institution in New Zealand…”

He lifted his head from her breast. That one had appeared in The Star twenty years ago, shortly after Adele took him out of Los Angeles. “You know,” he said. She nodded. “How long have you known?”

“Well, I strongly suspected at the flat tire, then at the bar I was more sure, then when you told me your last name and a little about yourself, right before you kissed me, I was positive.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

She shrugged. “It appeared you didn’t want to talk about that Dylan Childress. If you’d brought up your Hollywood career, I would’ve said something. I admit to being curious about which parts are true, which aren’t. The press and rumors were pretty horrible. Liquor and drugs, an unbelievable number of girlfriends, crazy behavior, vandalism and general delinquency…”

“I was just a stupid kid…”

“I always wondered which parts of that were true…”

“Probably too much of what you read was true…”

“I read about the terrible incident that seemed like the end of it all—Roman’s drug overdose.”

“An accident,” he said. “I’m sure it was Roman being stupid, trying to get high, not get out.”

“And that’s when you kind of disappeared,” she said.

“My grandmother got me out of there, away from the insanity. She didn’t know what else to do, I think. She thought I needed to rehab, to put it simply. How many people around here know?”

“Les knows, but she won’t out you. I bet the number of Virgin River women who were in love with you when they were twelve is pretty limited. You probably don’t have to worry.”

He smiled at her. “You? Were you in love with me?”

“Oh, God, wildly. Madly. I sincerely believed we would meet somehow and you would marry me. But you went away and I threw you over for Jason Priestley. Later I threw him over for the Backstreet Boys. Then I got interested in boys my own age who were real. I had to finally accept the fact that Jason Priestley would never take me to the prom.”

“The Backstreet Boys,” he muttered. “Priestley—I can live with that. But the Backstreet Boys? Jesus, Katie.”

“It was a rough time…”

“So now will you tell everyone you can think of that you had sex with Dylan Childress? The ex-star?”

“Is that what you’re used to?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“It’s happened. That’s why there haven’t been that many…”

“Like who?” she asked. “Who does a guy like you hook up with?”

He gave a little shrug. “Women who didn’t want a boyfriend. Never local girls—they want to get married. Almost strangers, but not total strangers. Sometimes I’d meet someone when we flew charters—there was an expiration date on those relationships. I was kind of hit and run…involved with people I probably wouldn’t see again…”

“How original, for a playboy,” she said. “Well, this may come as a shock, but I haven’t ever let myself get involved with someone like you before, someone who absolutely swears he can’t be committed. In fact, I don’t think I can build much self-esteem by bragging that I nailed an actor—especially one who promises to ditch me as quickly as possible. That really undermines my self-image, which I’d rather bolster.” She thought for a second. “I might get some interesting press out of the fact that I threw up in your plane… I think, since I’m awake, I’ll have a quick shower. That way if you’re still here when I’m done, I’ll be all fresh and sweet and you can resume counting.” She lifted an eyebrow and slid away from him, stalking across the bedroom stark naked. Head held high.