Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,82

what they’d done to her mother and commit her to the mental ward of the hospital.

“Gemma?” Lucky prompted again. “You aren’t crazy. I’m real, just physically impaired. We were meant to be together.”

Meant to be or not, what about children? She wanted them. Had always dreamt of a big family. She’d been an only child. Children needed siblings to play with, plot with, and help care for their parents. She wanted at least four kids. And no way could a dead man get her pregnant. That she was pretty damn positive about.

“We can figure this out. Together.”

But the deeper her heart was involved with Lucky, the harder it would be to let him go.

Under her hands she felt taut muscles, and smooth flesh dusted with fine hair. What she wouldn’t give to actually see him. Her eyes slid shut and there he was in her mind. The adventurous man from Tern’s picture. Real, vibrant, and so alive. She pressed her body harder against his and glorified in the moan of pain and pleasure that seemed torn from him.

“I’ve never had a woman affect me like this. Never felt desire so deep.”

Neither had she.

One of his thighs thrust between her legs, and it was her turn to moan as she made more room for him, straining against him. His hands cupped her behind and lifted her. Swinging her around, he pressed her against the bookcase of Divination and Prophecy. A few books hit the floor, and she didn’t care. All that occupied her mind and body was Lucky and how he coaxed the wicked little flame inside her into a greedy fire.

“Gemma, Gemma. I can’t get enough of you. I need you. To be part of you.”

She felt the release on the button of her slacks and the zipper slide down. Why, oh why hadn’t she worn a skirt today? Her clothing was too restrictive.

He gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, babe, you are the sweetest thing I’ve ever known.”

Her head started to buzz as everything inside her pooled into a wave of unquenchable thirst. He’d been stringing her along for weeks, with her waking just before diving over the edge into bliss.

But tonight she was awake.

She felt the bookshelves dig into her back, the tight band around her upper thighs as he held her still, positioning her perfectly for the rubbing of his engorged erection through the constraints of her clothing. The need to have him deep within her, now, caused her ears to ring.

The impatient peal of the phone rang throughout the store, clashing with Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon.”

“Ignore it,” Lucky murmured, his tongue doing amazing things to her breasts. She hadn’t even realized he’d gotten her sweater off and the front closure of her bra undone.

“Please,” she whispered but didn’t know if the plea was for him to stop so she could silence the blasted phone or to keep going so she could finally climb that peak he’d been driving her toward since that first dream visit.

His rough hand cupped her breast, holding her prisoner as his tongue lavished her erect nipple. The phone went silent, and she gave a groan of relief that quickly turned to a sound of pleasure as he took her nipple into his mouth. Her inner muscles contracted as he sucked, nipped, and licked. She might be able to clamber over the crest just on the attention he showed her breasts.

But she wanted more. She wanted all.

The phone pealed again, seeming angrier than the last time if that were possible. Who was she kidding? She was having the most intense make out session with a corporeal impaired being. Of course phones could ring with emotion.

“Holy balls, you’ve got to be kidding,” she said. The damn thing was not going to shut up.

“I’ve never had a woman refer to my balls in a religious context before. I like it,” Lucky said, humor in his voice.

She choked on a laugh, but sobered when she opened her eyes and caught the definite outline of the man in front of her. Her breath caught. “Don’t move.”

“What’s wrong? Besides the phone.”

“I can almost see you,” she whispered.

“What?”

While his image wasn’t fleshed out, she could see where he was, like a mirage in a desert. He was there and yet he wasn’t.

The phone started up again. It obviously wasn’t a customer wanting a book put on hold. “I’d better get that.”

“I’m not letting you go.” Next thing she knew he’d carried her to the information desk in the middle of the