Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(91)

She met his lips again, running her fingers through his short hair, kissing him deeply and with promise. “Oh, Tom,” she whispered against his lips. And he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to his bed.

Chapter Twenty

This was not the setting he would have chosen for his first time with her, but there was no other place in this big house that he would have her. And if he’d had any idea it might come to this, he might have done something to make it better, but he had no idea what that could’ve been. “I’m sorry, this isn’t ideal…” he said.

“Is this where you sleep every night?” she asked him.

“Every single night,” he said. “Except for the one night at your house, I’ve been here every night since I came home.”

“One thing I just have to know,” she said. “Please tell the truth. Did Darla slip down the hall to this room when she visited?”

He withdrew from her slightly. “Never. Believe me, it never got that far with Darla.”

“You kissed her, I saw you.”

“Pah, it was friendly. Maybe hopeful. And that’s before I realized I couldn’t even be her friend. No one, Nora.”

“I should have made a rule before you started chasing me around the orchard—I don’t kiss boys who kiss other girls… .”

His fingers went to the buttons on her blouse. “Only you.”

She watched his eyes as he opened her blouse and spread it. She wore an ordinary white cotton bra that she’d had a long time and he let out his breath in a sigh, running his fingers over it gently as if it were fine French lace. “God,” he said. And then his fingers found the latch and he set her free. “God,” he said again, and his lips went to her neck, chest, br**sts.

She tilted her head back, eyes closed. The calluses on his hands were rough, but he handled her so carefully it felt wonderful. Although he’d shaved, his cheeks and chin were scratchy, and she loved it. His lips, oh, his lips, were soft and wet and perfect on her. She held his head in her hands. And then she pushed him back. “No fair. I want a bare chest, too.”

He sat back on his heels between her legs and pulled his shirt roughly out of his pants, probably springing the buttons in his haste, and over his head to cast it away. One hand reached behind his neck to grab a fistful of undershirt and rip it over his head. His haste made her laugh softly. But then she grew serious as her fingers sought out the tattoos—she’d seen the thorn branch around his biceps but had only vaguely noticed a flame that grew around his side to his right pec. She must have been too overwrought from the bear scare to look closely.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Fire,” he said, whispering against her neck. “It was a firefight thing. A Marine thing. A few of us…you know… Shut up now…”

“Are there more?” she asked.

“Later,” he said, slipping to her breast, taking in a nipple and making her gasp.

While he worked that nipple, his hands found the snap on her jeans and slid them down only to find they were caught on her boots. “You should plan better,” she said.

“I can’t think with you, I want you so bad,” he said. Then he sat back again and took care of those boots and jeans, tossing them away. Which left him looking at her tiny, white bikini panties. And he growled. Then he dove for the panties, his mouth on them, his hands on her hips, causing her to gasp and her h*ps rose naturally. He laughed low in his throat and he pulled at those briefs, slipping them down until she was free and he went after her again, lifting her to his mouth.

And oh, God she came. The second his tongue tormented her, she was gone.

On her neck again, he whispered, “You’re wonderful. You were so ready for that and I got to be there. Nora, Nora, it’s like I imagined it might be with you… .”

“You have to eventually get rid of the pants,” she breathlessly told him.

“Pants,” he said. “Right.” And he sat up to divest himself of all of that, keeping behind the condom from his pocket. “And all this,” he said of the vest, blouse and bra that lay open revealing her. “Let’s get rid of this.”

She let him pull her up so he could slide the clothing off her shoulders and leave her as na**d as he was. And he took a moment to just gaze at her.

Nora knew she didn’t have a perfect body; her midsection had been abused by a couple of pregnancies and she had a little potbelly and stretch marks. But Tom looked at her as though she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Nora,” he said in a whisper. “You’re incredible.”

He was the stunning one—sculpted, beautiful and exciting tats, six-pack belly, wide, strong shoulders and huge biceps—growing apples is not for sissies. He was a work of art. There was the smallest tuft of hair right in the center of his chest—she wanted to lick it.

He had other plans. With his hands behind her knees, he spread her legs. He put one large finger on her favorite spot and massaged, watching as her eyes rolled back. Another finger checked her to see if she was ready; she’d never been more ready. “Condom,” she croaked.

She heard the package rip. He pulled her hand to him so she could feel him roll it down his length and then with his hand over hers, he rubbed it a little bit, working it. Not too much—he was as ready as she was.