Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(69)

Jack felt her small hands on his back, her lips on his neck, and her breathing inevitably slowed and came under control. To his surprise he heard the sound of her soft laughter. He raised above her and looked at her smile. “You lied to me,” she said. “You are a machine.”

“I just wanted to make you happy,” he said. “Are you happy?”

“I’ve been happy a couple of times. What can I do so that you can join me?”

He laced his fingers through hers and holding her hands, stretched her arms up above her head, holding them there. “Baby, you don’t have to do anything but be present.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, kissed her deeply and began to move inside her once more, pumping his hips. She lifted her knees and tilted beneath him, bringing him deeper, and he could feel her begin to move in concert with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he followed the rhythm she set in place. He rocked with her, slow and steady, deep and long, hanging on to control until he heard her moaning and sighing rise again, her tempo increased, and finally the noises she made, already familiar to him, already beautiful to him, told him she was reaching for yet another orgasm. He had expected her to be passionate, but the heat and power of her passion amazed him, and it filled a need in him. And this time, when she clenched around him and pleasure stole her breath away, he let himself go and matched her. Surpassed her. For a moment, through the powerful pulsing, he felt light-headed. His eyes watered. And he heard it again. “Jack!”

“Ah, Mel… Ah, baby,” he whispered, kissing her, loving her.

He gently caressed her as she calmed. “Jack,” she whispered. “I’m sorry…”

“What do you have to be sorry about?” he asked in a whisper.

“I think I bit you.”

He laughed, a deep throaty sound. “I think you did. Is that a habit of yours?”

“I must have been a little out of control…”

He laughed again. “I take the blame,” he said. “That was all part of the plan.”

“Ohhhh,” she said. “I might’ve lost my mind there for a while.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I love it when that happens.”

“You were taking a big chance, driving an already crazy woman out of her mind like that…”

“Nah, you were in good hands. You were always safe.” He kissed her softly. “Would you like to rest now?”

“Maybe for a little while,” she answered, her hands gentle on his face.

He gathered her close to him, holding her. Their naked bodies entwined, they spooned. He kissed the back of her neck as she lay on his arm. His face rested against her soft, fragrant hair, one arm over her and cupping her breast. Very soon he could hear the sounds of her even breathing, her sleep. He closed his eyes and relaxed with her in his arms, finding sleep himself.

Sometime in the dark of night he opened his eyes to find she had rolled over to face him, her hands boldly caressing him. He kissed her and asked, “Have you slept?”

“I did,” she said. “And woke up wanting you. Again.”

“I guess it’s pretty obvious, the feeling is mutual.”



Mel woke in the early morning and to her surprise, there was a song in her head. She was humming along with Johnny Mathis in her sleep. “Deep Purple.” Her music was back.

She rolled over to find the bed beside her empty. She could hear the sound of Jack splitting logs in the backyard. She rinsed her mouth and rubbed his toothpaste against her teeth. A light blue, long-sleeved denim shirt hung on a hook in his closet and she put it on, sniffing the collar, smiling at his scent on it. It more than covered her; she was drowning in it. She went to the back door and stood watching him heft the ax and bring it down. Thwack. The air was clear and sharp; the rain was gone and the huge trees were washed clean. She watched him heft the ax again, and bring it down. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his biceps rippled under the weight and force of the ax.

Then he looked in her direction. She lifted a hand toward him and smiled.

He dropped the ax at once and came to her. As he stood before her, she put her hand on his chest. He ran the back of a knuckle against her pink cheek. “I think I roughed you up a little with whiskers.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I like it. It feels right. Natural. Good.”

“I love the way you look in my shirt,” he said. “I love the way you look out of my shirt.”

“I think we have a little time,” she said.

He swooped her up into his arms, kicking the door closed behind him, and bore her gently to the bed.





Eleven




The morning air was cool and foggy as Mel drove to her cabin. The front door was open, letting in the crisp June morning air. She kicked off her muddy boots on the porch and when she went inside found Joey sitting on the sofa, a quilt wrapped around her, a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee on the table beside her.

Joey lifted a side of the quilt for Mel and Mel went to her, cuddling beside her, resting her head on Joey’s shoulder. Joey pulled the quilt snugly around them both. “You okay, baby sis?” Joey asked.

“I’m okay. I lost it last night.” She turned her head and looked up at her older sister. “Why didn’t I see that coming? You did.”