Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(67)

He was in love with her. This man who had never been in love in his life. Not once. As a kid, a young man, he’d thought himself in love a couple of times, but it hadn’t felt like this. Lust, he was familiar with that. Wanting a woman was something he knew quite well—but wanting to take care of a woman so that she would never hurt, never want, never be afraid or lonely—he had no experience with that. There had been beautiful women in his past; intelligent women, clever women, women with wit and courage and passion, but as far as he could remember, never one like Mel; never before a woman who had everything he’d ever wanted. And it just figures, he thought. I’m stupid in love with a woman who isn’t available to me. She’s still in a relationship, albeit a relationship that was no longer viable. Didn’t matter. He’d held her while she was wracked with the pain of losing someone else. She had a lot to get over, to get past. Even if he stood by her and waited for that to happen, it didn’t mean she could fall in love with him. Still, he had no choice. He was into her all the way.

He finished the brandy, putting aside the glass, but he didn’t leave her. He watched her, occasionally succumbing to the temptation to softly, carefully, touch the silkiness of her hair. When she sighed contentedly in her sleep, he found himself smiling, pleased that she had found some peace. At some point he realized that he knew how she felt—once you know how much you love someone, no one else would do. He looked down at the floor. I’ll be here for you, Mel, he thought. It’s the only place I want to be. When he raised his head, her eyes were open and she was looking at him. He stole a glance at the bedside clock and was surprised to see that two hours had passed.

“Jack,” she said in a whisper. “You’re here.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Of course I am.”

“Kiss me, Jack. When you kiss me, I can’t think of anything else.”

He leaned toward her and touched her lips with his for a soft kiss. Then more firmly, moving over her mouth, feeling her lips open and her small tongue enter. Her hand crept around to the back of his neck to pull him closer, and his kiss became hungrier, deeper.

“Come in here with me,” she whispered. “Hold me. Kiss me.”

He pulled back slightly, but she wouldn’t let go of his neck. “I’d better not.”

“Why?”

He laughed a little. “I can’t just kiss you, Mel. I’m not a machine. I won’t want to stop.”

She pulled the covers back for him. “I know,” she said in a breath. “I’m ready, Jack. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

He hesitated. What if she called out another man’s name? What if the morning came and she was sorry? He had fantasized about this, but he wanted it to be the beginning of something, not the end.

Then you better make it good for her, he told himself. You’d better leave her wanting more. He slipped in beside her, pulling her into his arms, devouring her mouth with a kiss so hot and powerful she melted to him with a whimper. Her arms went around him, holding him as she yielded to his lips, his tongue. His sweatpants, so loose and soft, left nothing to the imagination and he was instantly hard against her. She moved against him, rubbed against him, inviting him. With a large hand on her bum, he held her there.

Jack rolled with her, bringing her on top of him. He grabbed the bottom of the T-shirt that covered her and raised it, pulling it over her head. When he felt her br**sts against his bare chest, he said, “Ahhhh.” Her br**sts were soft and full in his big hands, her ni**les hard. Running his hands along her ribs to her hips, he found that she still wore her thong panties; he slid them lower and she wiggled out of them. Her skin was so delicate, so smooth, he worried that his hands were too rough for her, but by her soft and eager moans, she was not unhappy with the sensation. Holding her lips with his, he rolled with her again, so that they lay on their sides, and he took a moment to free himself from those sweats. Her hand wrapped around him, causing his breath to catch in his throat, and he thought, better not leave your boots on this time, buddy. You better do it for her. And he concentrated, because he’d never wanted to please a woman more than tonight.

Feeling her against him like this made it very difficult to slow down, to wait, but by sheer dint of will he managed. He took his leisure of her, employing a slow hand that fondled her br**sts. His mouth followed, drawing on one nipple then the other. She arched toward him greedily, spreading her legs, throwing one over his hip, urging him closer. He slipped a hand down and touched her in her soft center, bringing a passionate moan from her. He touched her deeply, and learned that he wasn’t the only one feeling a little desperate. She was ready for him. Starving. “Mel,” he said in a throaty whisper.

“Yes,” she answered. “Yes.”

He turned her onto her back and held himself over her. He captured her mouth with his and entered her in one long, slow, deep, powerful stroke that caused her to gasp and rise against him urgently. With one hand under her bottom and the other still caressing a place that turned her sighs to moans, he began to move within her. The heat of her nearly drove him out of his mind, but he held on. He was determined that her needs would come before his own. He moved steadily, pushing and pulling, and within moments her breathing came harder and faster, her body straining toward his, reaching for satisfaction. He was more than happy to deliver it, pushing into her, rubbing against her. And then he felt those hot spasms of fulfillment, heard her cry out in ecstasy and he held her fast, pressing himself into her. In that moment of blinding pleasure, she bit down on his shoulder; sweet, welcome pain. And he hung on with all the strength he could muster, saving himself, and finally she weakened beneath him and the clenching spasms that surrounded him slowly subsided. Her body relaxed and her breathing began to slow. Her pants became sighs and her kisses came soft and sweet against his lips.