Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(96)

But I will die happy, he further thought.

He pulled away from her just a bit, whispering against her lips, “That’s what you needed. You needed to be kissed.”

“Possibly,” she whispered.

“We should be sure,” he said, covering her mouth again. And again, tongues played, lips moved. He ran a hand down her hair and found it felt as soft as it looked—pure silk. The softest thing he’d ever touched. He scrunched up a handful at the base of her neck. “God,” he whispered, in awe of the texture. “God.”

“We hardly know each other,” she said again, but she said it while her lips were still in contact with his.

“Yeah…but that’s a short-term problem. We’re going to get to know each other lots better.”

Like an answer to a prayer, she came to his lips with hunger, thrusting her small tongue inside, moaning softly as she did so. He ran his hand down to the small of her back and pulled her against him. He devoured her lips for a full minute, for two full minutes. Three. A light from the great room inside the house flicked off, leaving the deck that much darker and he became intoxicated with the taste of her, the feel of her small body molded to his. With a will of its own, his hand brushed against her breast and if he wasn’t mistaken, she kissed him harder, deeper. He could feel an erect nipple under the silk of her dress and he ran his thumb over it, bringing a sigh from her. She didn’t push his hand away. His lips slipped to her neck. “Yeah. You’re starting to feel better I think.”

“Maybe. Just a little.”

He couldn’t hold it back any longer; he was aroused. Erect. Damn. This was going to put him in a tough spot, because this reaction always made it a lot more difficult to think straight. It was a real challenge to be sensible. Logical. Thoughts of Paul killing him for making love to the maid of honor fled from his mind, replaced with obsessive thoughts of what his lips around that nipple would feel like. He lowered his head to check. He was absolutely right—it felt perfect. Even through the dress.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get any more worked up,” she said in a whisper.

“Whatever you say,” he replied, but he was agonizingly unable to lift his head. He was busy putting small kisses on her breast, her neck, her shoulder. He ran a hand down her back, over her bum, down her thigh. He accidentally found that slit in her dress and before he knew it, his hand was inside. “Oh God, Nikki. I’m a dead man.”

“You’re not doing too bad for a corpse,” she said.

“Nikki, you have no panties on, and I’m a dead, dead man.”

“Then take your hand out of there,” she advised breathlessly.

“I. Can’t.”

He put his lips back on hers for a long, deep, wet kiss that lasted two minutes at least. But, he proudly thought, he was somehow able to keep his hand from wandering any farther than her na**d bum. One large hand on one small, round, perfect cheek. He had cast a mental image of Crazy Glue holding him there, because if he slid it any farther south all the blood would drain from his brain and he would faint. And then came the danger zone. She pressed against him, rubbed against him. She gyrated her h*ps a little and moaned softly. She knew he was hard and ready to burst. She knew he knew she knew. He lifted his head. “Nikki. Let’s,” he said.

“Oh God,” she said. “We shouldn’t.”

“Let’s make love.”

“How tacky is that? The maid of honor ha**ng s*x with a marine on the deck?”

He chuckled in spite of himself. “I’ll take you somewhere.”

“By that time, I will have come to my senses,” she said.

“It’s not far. I drag my bedroom around with me.”

“Wow. Talk about always being prepared…”

He kissed her again. Hot and hard kisses that lasted forever. “It’s not really mine. I borrowed it from Paul. There aren’t exactly rooms to rent around here.…”

“That funny little trailer?” she asked him.

“The door locks,” he said against her lips. “It’s very comfortable.”

“Listen,” she said, pushing him away a little bit. “I haven’t ever—I mean, I’m no nun, but I’ve never done anything like this. This one-night stand thing. Never.”

“It’s not, I don’t think,” he said.

“Hmm?” she said, yielding to his lips again.

He wasn’t going to bother saying something that was just going to sound like a line, even if it seemed entirely true. He felt something. He’d been feeling it since the moment he saw her in the bar with Vanni a while back, felt it again the second time he saw her, had been feeling it all day today and he had absolutely no idea what it was. But it sure didn’t feel as if he was going to be cured of it in one night. “It’s just the first night,” he said.

“Talk me into it,” she pleaded.

“No. No way,” he answered, pulling away a little. “It’s up to you. If you want me to, I’ll make love to you. If you don’t, I can step away right now.” He kissed her again. “It wouldn’t be easy, but I could let go of you.”

“But what will people think—”

“Shh, people don’t have to know if you don’t want them to. This—it’s just about you and me. It only matters what you think, what you want. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He made a derisive sound deep in his throat. “That was really hard advice to give, by the way.”