“Was she wearing giant bunny ears?” Shaking her head, Molly shifted her attention back to the rock star who intrigued and compelled her far more than anything around them. “What happened next?”
“We made music together,” he said simply, and brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “Starting out, we crashed in a cheap two-bedroom apartment, working every day job we could to make the rent and feed ourselves.”
Molly could hear the passion in his voice, knew the dream of music had driven him. “How old were you?”
“Eighteen. Right out of high school.” He placed her hand on his thigh as he shifted gears. “Noah and Abe, they both come from heavy-duty money, but it was an unspoken rule that we did this on our own. Best decision we ever made—money’s never come between us, and the band? It’s ours, no one else’s.”
Molly loved the insight into the band’s friendship, into Fox, and kept urging him to continue. So engrossed was she in his stories of what it had been like to go from flat broke to filling stadiums with screaming fans that it took her a while to realize they’d left the lights of the city behind to prowl up one of the hills. “Where are we going?”
A sinful smile, the dimple lean and gorgeous in his cheek. “Best make-out spot in the city.”
The row of cars at the top, complete with steamed-up windows, proved him right.
Pushing back his seat once he’d parked, Fox said, “Come here, Miss Molly,” and maneuvered her into his lap.
She snuggled close. “This is so romantic.” Los Angeles spread out in front of them like a twinkling carpet, the lights fireflies in the dark.
“Does that get me points?” Fox ran his hand under her unbound hair to touch her nape.
Skin taut at the tone of his voice, she said, “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you intend to do with the points.”
“Trust me?”
It was no longer even a question. “Yes,” she said, “this earns you many brownie points.” Nervous anticipation in her veins, she looked into eyes shadowed by the darkness inside the vehicle. “What do you want to use them for?”
Fingers trailing up her neck. “A little rope.”
“You want to tie me up?” Molly’s voice was husky, the sound a caress over Fox’s senses.
“Yeah.” He cupped the lush warmth of her braless breast through the T-shirt she’d thrown on over jeans, enjoying the simple pleasure of being able to touch her as he pleased. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“You’re telling me Zachary Fox, rock star named Reigning Sex God by a certain men’s magazine three years running,” she said, her breast pushing into his palm as she leaned closer, “has never tied up a woman during sex?”
“Even a Reigning Sex God has to develop his tastes.” He rubbed his thumb over her nipple. “By the time I realized it was something I wanted to try, that girl I walked home from the bar had sold her story to the tabloids. I didn’t trust anyone enough to play those games.” Molly though… she could have every one of his secrets.
He was hers.
“Some people would say I’m being naïve believing that—”
Ice in his blood.
Screwing up her nose, Molly glared at him. “I said some people. I know you don’t lie. You never have, not from the start.” A pause. “Though you did let me assume you were perfectly happy for our relationship to end after a month.”
Fox winced. “You ever going to forget that?”
“No”—Molly tugged at his lip ring—“I plan to hold it over you for the rest of our lives together.” Shifting position to straddle him, she held his gaze with the clear brown of her own. “Thank you for never lying to me.”
He heard the honesty, saw the vulnerability she didn’t try to hide. “I never will, baby. Even if I know what I’m about to say will piss you off.” Tucking his fingers under the edge of her T-shirt, he stroked the bare skin of her lower back. He’d always been a tactile man, but with Molly, it was more than that—it felt good deep inside to touch her, as if he was where he was meant to be. “Speaking of which… I got you something in New York.”
“Other than the ridiculously expensive robe with which I’m madly in lust?”
“The robe was a present for me.” She’d accepted that with open pleasure, but this next gift might slam up against her boundaries—it continued to frustrate him that she made no demands on him financially when he wanted to give her the world, wanted to make her happy. “It’s in my front jeans pocket.”
Chapter 32
Wiggling her fingers into his left pocket, Molly brushed something rigid and hot. “Is that it?” she asked, feeling sexy as only Fox could make her feel.
“That’s for later.” A wicked promise. “Try the other pocket.”
Molly managed to get her fingers inside despite the way the fabric had pulled taut because of his seated position, touched velvet. Working it out, she saw it was a pouch from a high-end jewelry store he must’ve ducked into when he went to get the donuts yesterday.
“…you should know I plan to spoil you. Let me.”
The memory of his words broke her heart as she considered what this gift meant to Fox. And it had nothing to do with money.
“Are you going to open it?” A fine tension to his body, lashes lowered to shade the expression in his eyes.
She could swear her commitment until she was blue in the face, she thought, but it would take him time to accept that she didn’t need enticement to stay. Until then, she’d never turn down a gift, no matter how outrageous, never hurt him with what he’d read as a rejection. “I want you to show me,” she said, handing him the bag.
Lips curving, he tugged open the little gold tie and poured a tumble of glittering gemstones onto his palm before picking up one of the earrings and holding it out. “I don’t want to poke holes in you.”
Aware she was handling thousands of dollars, she carefully hooked it on, then added its twin. “So?” She tucked her hair behind her ears to better show off the precious stones.
“You make them look beautiful.” Sliding one hand under her tee and onto bare skin again, he cupped the back of her head with his other and smiled in the way that always made butterflies take flight in her stomach. “Want to make out?”
Molly had never made out in a car with a boy. Even the idea of it had nauseated her after her father was caught in his luxury sedan with his underage lover. “I might freak out,” she warned, because while she felt fine now, the past had a way of biting when she least expected it.
Fox didn’t ask for explanations; his expression told her he got it. “I can handle a freak-out. Especially if you let me get to third base.”
They steamed up the windows, almost got busted by the cops, and there was no freak-out. It was the best date of her life.
“You look happy,” Thea pronounced a week later when they met up at a sunny little café a couple of minutes’ walk from Thea’s office, the two of them choosing an outdoor table.
Molly took a sip of her passion-orange tea. “I am.” She was starting to believe she and Fox would be okay, even in this hothouse atmosphere. “Is that stubble burn on your cleavage?”
Thea shoved her sunglasses up on top of her head to glance down, groaned. “Damn it. I thought this neckline was high enough.” She pointed a finger at Molly. “’Fess up. You told David to write memos.”
Molly gave her innocent eyes.
Snorting, Thea picked up her phone to check her e-mails.
“So?” Molly prompted, used to the way her sister multitasked.
“So… I guess we’ll see if I can trust him while the band’s on tour.” A whisper of pain, an echo of the brutal blow her fiancé had delivered, the cheating, supercilious piece of crap.