Otherwise Engaged (17 page)

And then he kissed her. Most of his other kisses before this had been careful and controlled, Molly realized as he nearly lifted her off her feet. But this was like that first kiss they’d shared in her living room. This was hot and urgent and deliriously, deliciously wild. His tongue invaded her mouth as he crushed her against him, and still she wanted more. She wanted deeper kisses. She wanted to be even closer to him.

His thigh parted her legs and she heard herself moan.

“Molly, my bungalow is right over on the other side of those trees,” he whispered as he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her throat. “God, I want to make love to you. …”

His bungalow. Not his suite. His bungalow. The home into which he never let anyone else enter. Tonight he’d shared with her the story of his unhappy marriage to Merrilee Fender. And now he was going to share himself with her again, by bringing her into his most personal and private space.

She couldn’t say no. She didn’t want to say no.

So she said yes.

P
RES UNLOCKED
the door to his bungalow, nervous as hell, and desperate for a cigarette. He knew where he still had some. There was an unopened pack in the far left drawer in the kitchen. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to throw it away.

Molly was nervous too. He watched her as he shut the door behind her and turned the overhead ceiling fan on low to circulate the air-conditioned air. She looked around at the tiny living room.

“This is nice.” She turned to glance back at
him. “I thought you said your furniture doesn’t match.”

“It doesn’t,” he said. “Not the way the stuff up at the resort matches.”

She looked at the paintings that hung on the wall, stopping in front of one of his favorites. She leaned closer, squinting at the signature and date, then turned to look back at him in astonishment. “Is this …?”

Pres nodded, shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket. “Yeah. It’s mine. I’m pretty good at water and sky. But as soon as I try adding boats or people or birds, it all gets messed up.”

“Do you paint every day?”

“As long as it’s not raining. It’s rained an awful lot this spring.” He went into the attached kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Molly followed him, taking her tiny bag off her shoulder and setting it down on the counter. “Is this weird or what? I mean, here we are, making nice, polite conversation. But it’s not as if we didn’t come here for a reason. …”

He had to smile. “I thought I’d follow some social conventions and offer you a drink before tearing off your clothes.”

She smiled back at him. “How gentlemanly of you. But it still feels weird. I mean, can we talk about something a little bit deeper than the weather?”

Pres took two glasses down from the cabinet. “I’m afraid it’s a choice between lemonade, seltzer, or beer.”

Molly laughed. “Oh, that’s
much
deeper than the weather.”

“I didn’t get to the deep part yet,” he protested.

“Do you have ice?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Fill the glasses with ice and pour half a bottle of beer into each glass,” she instructed.

“Beer over ice? Are you kidding?”

“Do you trust me?”

Time stood completely still for a moment as Pres gazed into her eyes. Molly had come here to make love to him. He knew that and she knew that. It was only a matter of time before he took her hand and led her back into his bedroom and … He moistened his suddenly dry lips. “Yes. I trust you completely.”

She smiled. “Then do it.”

He did.

“Now fill the rest of the glass with seltzer, and a splash of lemonade.”

“Just tell me honestly, is this going to taste as awful as I think it’s going to taste?”

“It’s going to taste remarkably refreshing,” she told him, watching as he followed her instructions.

Pres handed one of the glasses to Molly. He took a sip.

“What do you think?” she asked.

It
was
remarkably refreshing, the beer flavor mixing curiously with the tart lemon. “I think that it’s been two years since I built this bungalow,” he said, “and you’re the first person I’ve even invited inside.” He took another sip of his drink, watching her over the rim of his glass. “That deep enough for you?”

Molly nodded. “I figure you’re either really,
really
horny, or maybe you actually like me,” she said dryly.

He laughed. “Actually, I really,
really
like you.” He didn’t dare use the word he really meant.

“I like you too,” she admitted. Her voice got softer. “I like it when you talk to me. I like that you brought me here—that you’d share your secrets
with me. I know that talking about Merrilee couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t, but it was,” Pres said. “I don’t know, Molly, but when I’m with you, everything’s easy.”

She put her drink down on the counter. “Tell me another secret.”

He put his drink down too. “I was thinking that maybe it’s time to get to the tearing-off-your-clothes part of this seduction.”

Molly laughed, backing away from him. “That’s no secret. Tell me … tell me what your dreams are.”

Pres stopped short. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before,” he mused.

“Really?”

“I think everyone assumes that because of my money, I’m living my dreams,” he told her. “In some ways I am, but …”

“So what are they?”

He glanced away from her. “I don’t know. …”

“You want to scuba-dive around the world,” she guessed. “You want to skydive out of the space shuttle. You want to be the first billionaire on the moon—”

“No, believe it or not, it’s nothing like that. In fact, it’s pretty damn hokey. …”

“Hokier than being the first billionaire on the moon?” Molly asked with mock amazement.

“Now I’m not going to tell you.”

“You know, it’s a real turn-on for me when you tell me personal things about yourself.”

He laughed. “Yeah, right.” But still he looked at her closely to see if just maybe she was telling the truth.

She had to smile at that look in his eyes. It was probably just as good that he thought she was only teasing. “Why don’t you tell me your hokey dream and watch me melt?”

He moved closer. “I think I need a kiss to give me strength.”

Molly could feel her heart pounding as he touched her—first lightly on the shoulders, and then gently cupping her face. He was going to kiss her. They were alone, in the privacy of his home, and he was going to kiss her. The blinds were all down, the curtains drawn, and he was going to kiss her. Kiss her and more. Much more.

He smiled into her eyes as he lowered his
mouth to hers and then, Lord, she was kissing him.

It was a gentle kiss, different from that kiss on the beach. He was holding back, taking his time, as if he were afraid he’d scare her off if he let himself go.

It was as if he wanted to make sure she was here with him because she wanted to be—not because she was swept up in the moment. It was as if he wanted to make sure she knew she could still change her mind and walk away.

She knew it was crazy. She’d probably live to regret it. But she wasn’t going anywhere.

Molly laced her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he closed his eyes, sighing his pleasure. He pulled her closer, his hands sweeping down the open back of her dress, his work-callused fingers slightly rough against her skin. The sensation was exquisite.

He kissed her again, less carefully now, and she could feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire. He wanted her. He wanted
her
.

And she wanted him. Desperately. Frantically.
It was such a relief to finally admit it, such a relief to finally give in.

Molly pulled away from him, breathless. “If this is some kind of attempt to distract me so you won’t have to tell me about this dream of yours—it’s working.”

Pres laughed, but the heat in his eyes didn’t fade. “Right now I only have one dream—and I think it’s about to come true.”

“You only
think
so? I
know
so.” Molly reached up and untied his bow tie. Holding both ends, she began leading him toward his bedroom.

Preston’s pulse kicked into double time. “Hey, who’s in charge of this seduction here?”

She started unbuttoning his shirt. “Looks to me as if I’m seducing you.”

He laughed. “Lady, you had me thoroughly seduced five minutes after we met.”

Molly pushed his tuxedo shirt off his tanned shoulders and smiled sweetly up at him. “In that case, you must be seducing me.” She kissed his neck as she ran her hands lightly up and down the smooth muscles of his chest. “You’re doing an excellent job, but …”

“But?”

“Remember how I wanted you to take things nice and slow … don’t move too fast, keep everything under control?”

Her featherlight touch was almost too much to bear, yet Pres didn’t want her to stop.

“Yeah.” His own voice sounded choked, tight. “I’ve been trying. …”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Pres didn’t need to hear her say it twice. He kissed her hard as he shook his arms free from his shirtsleeves. His hands swept down the curve of her derriere, pulling her hips in tightly to him, and she opened herself to him, pressing up against his thigh. He could feel her heat, taste her need as he kissed her even harder, deeper, longer. He slid his hand between them and held a little piece of heaven as he cupped the soft fullness of her breast. She moaned as his thumb found the hard bud of her nipple and he breathed his own pleasure in unison with hers.

Dear God, he’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this woman. He was dizzy with desire, delirious from the knowledge that she belonged to him. At least for tonight.

But tonight wasn’t going to be enough. He
wanted more. He wanted … Mother of God, he wanted forever. He wanted to tell Molly that he loved her, that if she’d let him, he would love her until the end of time.

But he wasn’t sure that she was going to let him.

He wasn’t even sure he’d be telling her the truth.

Too much, too soon. He’d felt this euphoria with Merrilee. He’d fallen hard and fast with his ex-wife, too, and look where
that
had gotten him.

But decisions about forever could be put off until the future. Tonight, however, there was no need to hesitate.

Pres swept Molly up into his arms and carried her into his bedroom. He could feel her hands unfastening his pants, and then,
God
, she was touching him.

She laughed at his explosive cry of pleasure, and pulled him down so they tumbled together onto his bed. Her hair was in his face as she kissed him, touched him, stroked him, drove him totally insane. He fumbled for the zipper on the back of her dress, distracted by his need to touch the softness
of her breasts, the smoothness of her thighs, the utter sweetness of her.

“Do you have protection?” she asked as she struggled to sit up. She pushed his pants down his legs.

Protection? He didn’t know. He didn’t even know his name. All he knew was that he wanted her surrounding him, and he wanted her now. He reached for her dress and pulled it up and over her head.

Her underwear was white and made of lace and her skin was smooth and pale. She didn’t have a tan. Somehow that fact registered, and he realized hazily that he’d never seen her on the beach. Of course not. She was always working, cleaning up the Kirk Estate, taking care of Zander. She didn’t have time for the beach.

Her skin felt so soft as he entangled their legs, and his senses went into overload. He kissed her hard, harder, touching the excruciating silkiness of her skin, aching to bury himself inside of her.

She pulled him on top of her, opening her legs to him, and he went eagerly, straining against the lace barrier that kept them both from total ecstasy. He took one of her rose-colored nipples into
his mouth, sucking and pulling right through the lace of her bra and she cried out, her legs tightening around him.

He reached for the front clasp of her bra, but she beat him to it, opening it for him, giving herself to him. He buried his face in the softness of her breasts, inhaling her sweetness, loving her completely, body and soul.

“Pres …” Molly tried to push her panties off, but he was on top of her.

Protection. She’d asked him about protection. He wanted in, and she wanted him there, and not for the first time that evening Pres considered breaking his safe-sex rule. Just once. He’d ease himself inside of her and … And once wouldn’t be enough. He’d never be able to stop, and then, God, she’d get pregnant and then she’d
have
to marry him, and he’d spend the rest of his life in a relationship based on obligation, not love.

And he wanted her to love him. He wanted their babies to be made intentionally, on purpose. He wanted to look into her eyes and smile as he drove his seed deep inside of her, knowing that the miracle of their love was, right at that moment,
creating the equally awesome miracle of a precious new life.

No, right now those sexy lace panties were the only thing keeping them both from making an enormous mistake. Because what was he doing fantasizing about making babies with a woman he barely knew?

But when he kissed her, she tasted so deliciously familiar. When he held her in his arms, she fit so perfectly.

Pres kissed her, and then he kissed her again. “I’ve got a condom in my wallet,” he somehow managed to tell her. “Let me get it.”

“Hurry,” she whispered.

Pres hurried. He found the leg of his pants turned inside out, dangling over the side of the bed. His wallet was still in the back pocket and he quickly opened it and …

It wasn’t there.

He searched through again and again.

It still wasn’t there.

It didn’t make sense. He
always
carried a condom in his wallet, and it had been at
least
a year since he’d used the last one and …

He’d taken the old one out. He’d taken it out,
intending to replace it with a fresh new one, in hopes of something happening with Molly very much like what was happening right now.

Only he’d forgotten to put the new one back in.