That Holiday Feeling (Virgin River #8)(85)

Now that was something he could see Annie doing.

And to speak of the devil herself, when he pulled up to his house, it was dimly lit from inside and her truck was parked out front. The clock on the car console said two-fifteen. Lord, what was she doing? Half of him was so grateful he could burst, the other half wanted to spank her for staying up so late—he knew she had a long day in the shop ahead of her so that she could be closed the afternoon of the twenty-fourth and all day the twenty-fifth.

Annie, he had learned, was not afraid of hard work.

He entered the dimly lit house quietly. His first reaction was surprise, but pleasure quickly followed. On the breakfast bar a thick red candle flickered beside a plate of cookies and a couple of cups. There was chocolate powder in the cups, ready for hot milk to be added. Bows on the chairs, garlands strung around, table decorations, twinkling lights everywhere, and his girl, asleep in front of a fire. He chuckled to himself. Well, hadn’t she been busy.

It was like really coming home. Holidays meant a lot to her. Her sense of love and family spilled over to everyone around her, and he felt so…embraced inside, like it was his first Christmas. He smiled to himself. In an important way, it was.

He took off his boots, belt and jacket in the kitchen. He blew out candles, turned off all but the twinkling tree lights and fireplace, and knelt down by the sofa, softly kissing her beautiful lips.

“Mmm,” she murmured, half waking. “You’re home. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“You were probably exhausted, digging through the storage,” he said with humor in his voice.

“I’ll put it all away before you get back,” she whispered. “I should go, now you’re home….”

“Are you crazy?” he asked. He slipped one arm under her knees, the other behind her back and stood with her in his arms. “We’re going to get some sleep. It’s almost morning, anyway. And this couch isn’t going to do it. I want to hold you. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. Now close your eyes and your mouth.”

She hummed and snuggled closer to him. “Everything all right? With the mare?” she asked.

“It’ll get sorted out. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.” He carried her to his bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. “Do you need the alarm?” he asked her. “I can set it for you.”

“Nah. I haven’t slept past seven in my life.”

“Good,” he said. He pulled back the comforter and crawled in, jeans and all, and she did the same. “Come close,” he said. “All I want in life is to feel you against me. Mmm, just like that. Aaah, Annie, my Annie…”

Suddenly he knew that even as exhausted as he was, he wasn’t going to sleep. He had a stunning thought—this is what it feels like when you actually fall in love. He’d thought that whole falling-in-love thing was some girl story that guys didn’t experience. He was familiar with being attracted. Oh-ho, was he familiar with that! And of course he had known desire in all sizes, from warm to boiling. Wanting a woman, yes, that was a fairly regular occurrence. But this was all those things mixed together and yet something completely different at the same time.

He wanted to be only with Annie; if he were allowed one friend for the rest of his life, he would choose her. He wanted to come home to the kind of warmth she could bring to a room. He wanted to crawl in beside her and feel the comfort of her body, which fit so perfectly against his. He didn’t want to be away from her; he wanted her for life.

He began unbuttoning her blouse. In spite of the fact that she seemed to be asleep, he was undressing her, knowing he shouldn’t. But then he felt her fingers working away at his shirt buttons and he sprang to life, hard and ready. His hands went to the snap on her jeans while hers worked at his. Like choreography, they were slipping each other’s jeans down and off and he pulled her hard against him, his shorts to her dainties. “God,” he said. “God, God, God.”

She pulled away just enough to shrug out of her shirt and remove her socks. She left the panties for Nate to handle, which he did immediately. “Let me have these,” he said, clutching them in his fist. “Let me keep these for the rest of my life. Can I?”

She laughed at him and tugged down his boxers. “Sure,” she whispered against his lips. “And you can keep your underwear.”

He moaned as if in pain, his hand finding a breast. “Why are you wearing a bra?” he asked.

“Because you’ve been undressing me for five seconds and haven’t gotten to that yet?” she returned. She unsnapped the clasp and it fell apart, just in time for his lips on her breast. He rolled on top of her, probing. “Condom,” she whispered. “Condom, Nate.”

“Right,” he said. “Got it.” And he leaped out of bed, raced unceremoniously to the master bath, running back to the king-size bed with a packet in his hand, ripping it open as he went. He flopped on the bed and pulled her close. Then he froze. All motion stopped. Their thighs were pressed together, their lips straining toward each other, their hands pulling their bodies closer, and he said, “Annie? Are you ready for this?”

She didn’t say anything and he couldn’t see her face in the darkness of the room. She took his hand and captured the foil packet. She pulled his hand down between her legs where his fingers could answer his question.