Her fingers were on the hooks of her pretty, fitted black jacket embellished with lace panels on either side when she froze, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. Having shut the door, Fox, his body primed as it pushed into her backside, went to reach for the button on the back of her skirt when he, too, went motionless.
“That’s not your perfume,” he said, pinpointing what had set her off.
It was too sweet for her, too opulent in its sensuality. “Maybe a housekeeper made a mistake?” The band had a standing order in all the hotels they used that no one was to enter their suites without a specific request.
“She’d have had to get past the guard.” Stepping in front of her, he headed to the bedroom. “Stay here.”
Molly followed at his heels, got a scowl, but he didn’t order her back. A second later, they were at the open bedroom door.
The girl inside couldn’t have been more than nineteen, every inch of her sleek and golden, her perky breasts tipped with pale pink nipples, the flesh between her thighs bare. Molly saw all that at a glance because the girl was reclining on the king-size bed on her elbows, her legs drawn up at the knees and thighs spread.
Black stilettos and a mane of glossy caramel-colored hair arranged artfully over one shoulder completed the look. “Hi,” she breathed, after dismissing Molly with a single, contemptuous glance. “I thought you might want some company.”
Jaw a vicious line, Fox’s hand fisted. Slipping past him before he could give free rein to his temper, Molly grabbed the scrap of sequined fabric that was apparently the groupie’s dress and threw it at her. “If you don’t want to be arrested and thrown in jail for the night, put that on and haul ass.” No way was she touching the G-string panties discarded on the carpet.
The girl pursed pouty lips painted a wet pink. “Fox wants me here, don’t you, honey?” Her eyes went to the zipper of his jeans.
Molly felt Fox snap. Striding across the room, he would’ve taken the girl’s arm and dragged her out if Molly hadn’t stepped in front of him. “She’s not worth the aggravation,” she whispered, one hand on his cheek to force him to meet her gaze. “Touch her and she’ll sue or sell her story to the tabloids.”
Fox’s eyes glittered but he didn’t push past her. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his phone and made a call, barking a single order. “In here now!”
The security guard entered the room less than three seconds later, his face going ashen at the sight of the intruder. “I threw you off the floor.”
The groupie, apparently understanding she truly was unwanted at long last, grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head. “A real man let me in.” Her eyes slanted to Fox again as she picked up her purse. “Anytime, Fox darling. Just call me.” She brazenly threw her panties and a scrap of paper holding a phone number on the bedside table.
“Sir, do you want me to contact the police?” the security guard asked as the intruder began to saunter out.
“Yes.”
The girl spun around. “Fox!”
“Get the fuck out.” With that, he turned his back on the guard and the groupie both, his breathing low and uneven.
Shaking her head at the guard when it appeared the other man might say something, Molly waved him and the screeching girl out. Not until she heard the front door close, locking out the sounds of the girl’s continued disbelief, did she speak. “Fox,” she said softly, “if you have her arrested, the story will—”
“I don’t care.” Reaching out, he began to tug open the hooks that held the lace-paneled jacket tight to her body. “Let them talk about it. We don’t press charges, next time some woman’s going to figure she has the right to walk into our home and our bedroom. They must think I’m a goddamn lowlife—that all a groupie has to do is flash her pussy at me and I’ll cheat.”
Molly realized he wasn’t going to listen in this mood. She grabbed his wrists. “Not in this bed.” No way was she about to lie on those sheets. “Take me bent over the sofa.”
Fox’s fingers halted in the act of undoing the final hook, the jacket having parted to expose the scarlet-and-black bustier she’d worn underneath for his eyes only, the pale globes of her breasts exposed by the half cups. “You liked it when I did that before?” he asked, the anger smoldering into passion.
Molly pressed her thighs together at the gritty sin of his voice, but she was aware he wasn’t calm yet, the smoky green holding a hard edge. “Yes.” Undoing the final hook herself, she shrugged off the jacket. “I really liked it.”
Grabbing her hand, Fox pulled her into the living room and had her bend over the low sofa, hands braced on the back. The position made her arch her back, her butt higher than her head. “Don’t move.” With that harsh order, he went to the main door and threw the dead bolt.
Fox knew he was in the grip of a vicious temper, but he also knew he would never hurt a hair on Molly’s head—and he needed to touch her. Brand her.
Stripping away her skinny black skirt but leaving her red heels on, he ripped off her panties to reveal the creamy curves of her body. The contrast of the silk bustier against her skin was so erotic he knew he’d make her ride him one day while dressed just like this. Not today. Today, he needed to be the one in charge, needed to know she’d accept him after the bullshit that had just gone down.
Hot with a combination of rage and lust, he tore off his own clothes without taking his eyes from the luscious sight of her bent over waiting for him, a flush of heat beneath the cream. At any other time, he’d have talked, have teased, further jacking up their arousal. Tonight, he gripped her hips and nudged at her with his cock.
Scalding heat, honey slickness.
Plunging in to the hilt to her gasp, he shifted one hand to her nape, holding her in position as he thrust hard and deep, his balls slapping against her with every stroke. It wasn’t enough. He needed to feel her pleasure, needed to know she was his on this most elemental level, that her trust in him hadn’t been damaged. Sliding his hand to her navel, he reached down and squeezed the succulent nub of her clit between thumb and forefinger.
“Fox!” It was a soft scream, her orgasm sweet and hot around him.
Bottoming out, he gritted his teeth as she squeezed him in possessive clenches, his own orgasm tearing down his spine. He hauled her up against him while his cock still twitched inside her. Breath jagged, he wrapped one arm around her waist, the hand of the other around her throat. “I will never fuck around on you.”
Chapter 36
Chest heaving, Molly reached back to cup the side of his face. “I know,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “Baby, I know.”
She wasn’t sure Fox was calm enough to hear her even now, so she waited until after, when she was in his arms on the sofa, her bustier discarded beside her skirt and her body flush with his. Then, rising up on her elbow, she ran her fingers gently through his hair, petting him until he was no longer so on edge.
“I know you won’t cheat,” she said, looking into his eyes to make sure she had his attention, that he’d hear every word she said. “I might’ve worried at the start, before I truly knew you, but I haven’t for a long time.” He was too blunt, too honest to go behind her back. “You’d tell me to my face if you wanted out.”
“Never going to happen.” An unyielding statement, his arm steel around her back. “You’re stuck with me.”
“I like being stuck with you.” Continuing to run her fingers through his hair, she leaned down to kiss him, sips and licks that were more about being with one another than sex. “You don’t have to worry that things like this will make me doubt you.”
“There’ll be lies,” he told her, one hand rising to curve around the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her jaw, “in the tabloids and magazines and online. I won’t always have a way to prove I didn’t do something.”