Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(74)

Mel was barely out the door when she felt Jack come up behind her. He took her arm and walked with her to her car. Once there she turned to him and said, “Think you can find your way out to that little cabin?”

He leaned down to kiss her and groaned. It was happening to him again. “I’ll be right there,” he said.

“Take your time. Give me a head start so I can wash Hope’s cigarette out of my hair. Go finish serving dinner.”

He lowered his lips to her neck. “I’m going to walk back in there and yell Fire!”

She laughed at him and pulled away. “I’ll see you later,” she said. And got in her car to leave.

Mel drove home knowing that he was starving and wouldn’t be long. He was the most sexually driven man she’d ever known. But there were a couple of things she wanted to do. When she got home, she put her medical bag by the front door and went to the bedroom. She sat on the bed, picked up Mark’s picture and held it. She looked into his kind eyes and mentally said to him, “You know I love you, and I know you understand.” And then she slipped it into the drawer.

Then she went to the shower to freshen up.



Jack went back behind the bar and made sure everyone was taken care of. He brought Doc his dinner, said good night to Hope as she left, then went for Preacher. “It’s thinning out,” he said. “I’m going out to Mel’s,” he added, knowing Preacher would have his tongue cut out before he’d tell anyone. As if anyone needed telling. When Jack and Mel were in the same room, the air warmed up. People glanced at them knowingly. “You can reach me there if you need me. Don’t need me.”

“I’m good,” Preacher said. “Ricky and I can handle things.”

Jack might’ve driven a little too fast down the curving, tree-canopied road, but he was dying for her. He parked and went to the porch, sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs to pull off his boots. Inside, he heard the shower running and called out so he wouldn’t frighten her. “Mel?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called back.

But he was already out of his shirt, his hands on his belt buckle. He left a trail of clothes through the living room to the bathroom. The glass of the shower was steamed and inside was her small naked form in the mist. He slowly opened the door and stood there looking at her in all her glistening beauty. God, she was so perfect. She reached a small, inviting hand in his direction and he stepped in with her.

“You didn’t take your time,” she said against his lips.

“I tried,” he admitted.

“I wanted to freshen up for you.”

He covered her mouth with his, but his hands were all over her, running up and down her smooth, soft back, over her bottom, caressing her breasts, digging into her wet hair, down her neck and over her shoulders, down her arms to entwine his fingers with hers. He trembled, he wanted her so badly. And her hands were on him, running over his chest, around to his back, filling her hands with the hard muscles on his butt, and finally over his flat belly and down to his swollen erection, causing him to say, “Ohhhh… Mel…” before capturing her lips anew.

His fingers wandered lower to examine her, gently probing. It made him swell with some kind of erotic pride to find that she was slick and as anxious as he. This woman didn’t need much warming up. This mutual need, this had become the best part of his life. He lifted her up. Her arms went around his neck, her legs around his waist and he settled her upon him, entering her slowly, firmly. He turned with her in his arms, bracing a shoulder against the shower wall. Then he began to move her upon him, lifting her up and down. Her sighs became quickened breaths, her legs tightened around him.

Mel hung on to his shoulders and neck, her mouth on his, their tongues hot and desperate as they devoured each other. The sensation of his arms and shoulders at work as he held her caused her blood to boil and she felt her desire rising and rising to a wonderful pitch that soon erupted into bliss.

Jack loved nothing so much as bringing her that crazy moment and feeling her tighten around him. When she cried out, he held her closer, if possible. He reached himself as far inside her as humanly possible and the storm of his own wild climax shook him to his core.

She held on to him, he on to her, while they calmed, their breathing slowly returning to normal. She nibbled at his lip and said, a little breathlessly, “I didn’t know that was even possible. Being with you… It’s an adventure.”

“You do something to me. You drive me out of my mind.”

“Good. You do good work, brainless.” And then she laughed and touched his shoulder. “You have a little bruise…”

“I love that little bruise…”

“Let’s dry off and meet in the bed.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice. But please, don’t move just yet. This part is dicey.” He held her a moment longer and then, carefully and slowly, lifted her up and away from him, setting her down on her feet in the shower. They showered off, dried off. Mel needed a little extra time to dry that golden mane of hers—emerging roots and all. Jack went to the bedroom and sat on the bed. It was gone—the picture. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that only the picture was gone, not the memories. Still, it made him smile to himself. He settled himself in her bed and waited impatiently.

When she came to the bedroom, she reached for the light and he said, “Leave it on, Mel.” Without questioning him, she slid into the bed beside him. Lying on his side, he rose up, his head braced on his hand. “There are a couple of things we should talk about. The other night wasn’t about talking.”