It was her smile.
Eyes glowing from within as her whole face lit up, that smile had knocked him sideways at the party. Then had come her blushing smile in bed when he made a very dirty suggestion midway through their second time around, followed by her smart and funny response as her self-protective shields fell enough that he’d caught a glimpse of the heart of her.
Each glimpse had only deepened his craving to know more. He didn’t only want to fuck Molly; he wanted to talk to her, wanted to hear her use words like “nefarious” and discover what else might come out of her beautiful mouth. And he wanted that brilliant, real, full-body smile turned in his direction.
“It’s not just sex,” he said into the silence that had fallen between him and Noah. “It’s something else.” A thing for which he didn’t have a name, but that he knew in his gut was important, rare. The idea of turning his back on it made every cell in his body scream “Hell, no!” “I have to hear the whole song, learn the entire melody.” Figure out if this was a song with staying power… or one that would fade into history without leaving a mark.
His shoulders grew tight.
Thrusting a hand through his hair, the blond strands glinting in the sunlight, Noah raised an eyebrow. “She good with that? Being involved with you isn’t exactly going to be a picnic for her once the media gets hold of the news.”
“Molly thinks we had a one-night stand.” Not that he could blame her. It wasn’t as if he’d made his intentions clear—but he had a feeling those intentions would make Molly run hard and fast in the opposite direction.
So he just wouldn’t tell her.
Chapter 5
Work kept Molly busy, the library buzzing with a mix of adults and children as well as keen university students after some of the older material held in the archives. And if parts of her body twinged and throbbed in unfamiliar ways, they’d settle soon enough, erasing any lingering physical trace of Fox’s possession and leaving behind only memories—memories she had no intention of smothering.
Her dream of a stable, happily boring life hadn’t changed, would never change. It made her stomach lurch to even think about the horror that had been the unforgiving glare of “fame” after her high-profile father was found with that underage girl, the constant whispers and stares.
No, she didn’t want excitement. What she wanted was blissful normality: a job she liked; a steady, faithful man; a house on an ordinary suburban street; a sedate minivan with room in back for the slobbering family dog. But… when she was living that safe, stable life, the memory of her night with a smart, sexy, roughly tender rock star would be a hidden treasure, a quiet acknowledgment of the other Molly. The Molly who might’ve lived a life more adventurous and less ordinary in another time, another place… a Molly who, in this world, was a little too broken to ever again be permitted to hold the reins.
Fox hadn’t become the lead singer of one of the best-selling rock bands in history by being a shrinking violet. No, he went after what he wanted, no holds barred. And the raw promise he could feel between him and Molly? He had to know where it would lead, the need so strong he hadn’t felt anything like it since the day he’d figured out that music was his escape, the air in his lungs.
Which was why he was leaning against the wall beside Molly’s apartment at five that afternoon, a guitar by his side.
The elevator doors opened at a quarter after the hour, Molly going motionless two steps outside of it, the doors closing silently at her back. Yeah, she hadn’t expected him, but Fox was ready to work with that. Waiting patiently as she took a deep breath and completed the trek down the corridor, he drew in the scent of her, his gaze lingering on the fluttering pulse in her neck.
“How did you get past security?”
Fox smiled slowly at the blurted-out question, wondering if Molly knew how bad she was at hiding her emotions. He liked it, liked that he saw the real Molly, not an illusion she’d created to tempt him—not that she had to do anything but smile to tempt him. “I told you the security sucks.”
Unable to resist, he reached out to run his finger down one creamy cheek flushed with a mix of surprise, passion, and, he was certain, sweet, hot feminine anger. His guess was borne out when Molly unlocked her door with jittery hands and put down her handbag on one corner of the bench, her fingers trembling before she curled them into her palms. “You’re breaking the rules.”
“What rules?” Closing the door, he leaned back on it and willed her to face him. Much as he loved the shape of her from the back, he liked watching those expressive eyes whisper her mood to him.
Shoulders tight, she turned. “This was supposed to be a one-night stand.”
“Ah.” Folding his arms over the plain black of his T-shirt, he said, “How about a one-month stand instead?” He knew he had to play this exactly right. Molly was wary of him, and yeah, he could understand why. To have her in his life beyond a fleeting instant, he’d have to win her trust.
She jerked up her head. “What?”
“Why not? I like you. You like me.” He smiled—because the reason Molly had needed to jerk up her head was that she’d been staring at his chest. “Admit it.”
Sitting down on the bench, she began to unzip her boots, very obviously not looking at him. “You’re okay for a rock star.”
He wanted to bite her, then pet her until she was limp and languid in his arms. “We burn up together.” Deliberately modulating his voice—his instrument—for maximum effect, low and bedroom rough, he saw her fingers stutter on the zipper. “I’m here for a month. It’s an easy equation.”
When the words “Let me think about it” fell from her mouth, he thought she might’ve been as startled as he was, her lips parting on a slight gasp—as if to call back the declaration.
Crouching down, he began to tug off her boots, distracting her from her thoughts. He had no intention of playing fair. There were very few things he’d ever truly hungered for in life, and he’d never been given any of them. He’d claimed each through sheer, unrelenting will and the grim refusal to surrender.
Now… now there was Molly. “Are you kicking me out?”
“Don’t you want a different woman each night?”
He heard the tremor she tried to hide, and knew she’d said words similar to those that had lit a spark under his temper the previous night on purpose. Molly Webster was trying to scare him off because she was finding it difficult to say no.
Gut tight and blood hot, he got rid of her remaining boot. “You really have a high opinion of me.” Expecting warm, supple skin under his hands when he slid them up below the hem of her skirt—because he was more than happy to use her physical response to him to tie them together—he found an unexpected barrier instead. “You said no stockings.” The material under his touch was silky and soft and smooth.
“They’re tights.”
Body hardening even further at her breathy response, he traced the fine fabric another fraction past the hemline of her skirt, kept going. “Thigh-high tights.” Suddenly, they were the sexiest things he could imagine. “I want to see.” See the rich cream of her skin against the frame created by the deep gray and blue pattern, kiss every satiny inch.
She put her hands on his, halting him when he would’ve pushed her skirt up to her thighs. “I haven’t said yes yet.”
“Yes, you have, Molly.” Fox held her gaze, sweeping his thumbs slowly across the delicate skin above her tights. “I can feel it in the pulse under your skin, hear it in your voice, scent the damp heat of you on my tongue.”
Maybe, maybe he’d have found the strength to walk away from the intoxicating intensity of the pull between them if Molly had been indifferent to him—though far more likely, he’d have done everything in his power to change that, because he wasn’t the walking-away type, not when it came to the things that mattered. But Molly wasn’t indifferent.