Resisting Molly (8 page)

Jonathan never let up, stroking harder and deeper until my hands gripped his back and there was only the sensation of the head of his cock thrusting far up inside me. Hot juices flooded my already-soaking tunnel as my second orgasm of the night claimed me despite all my efforts to hold back, and my vision faded into a gray haze and my breath caught on the searing blaze of rapture which claimed me. My body was a drum pounded by my pulse, my ears deaf save for the tide of blood rushing through my veins. I cried wordlessly as I shook against him, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy even as Jonathan cried out and gushed hot cum into my depths to mingle his fluids with my own until they spilled down onto the bed between us.

Chest heaving, he released me and gently lowered my legs to the bed before collapsing next to me. For a long time we were content to simply lie side by side and come slowly back down to earth, and then Jonathan rolled over and tucked an arm around me. Pressing a gentle kiss against the back of my neck he sighed.

“Brynn is coming home for Thanksgiving in three weeks.”

A little stab of panic jabbed coldly at my heart. “What are we going to tell her?”

“The truth.” He sighed again. “I’ll talk to her.”

I stared into the darkness, heart pounding wildly once more as I considered my situation. I could still leave. I didn’t have to decide my future right now. I’d been able to save some money; I could pack up my things and be out the door long before Brynn got home. I could put a stop to all the
Just like her mother
comments. I wouldn’t have to worry about my best friend hating me. But what would I have to give up?

“Do you really love me?”

“Yes,” he breathed into my hair.

“Then we’ll talk to her together.”

*
         
*
         
*

Eighteen months later…

“I cannot believe you’re freaking out this way.”

“You? You’re the queen of freaking out.”

Brynn flounced in front of me and stood glowering with her fists on her hips. “That’s exactly what I mean.
I
should be the one freaking out. I mean, it’s
my
dad getting married.”

“I just want everything to be perfect.”

“Everything is already perfect, so will you quit messing around and get your butt over here so they can start?”

I resisted the urge to adjust the flowers one final time and moved obediently towards the door. “Fine,” I muttered.

 
“Honestly, Molly, if you screw up my dad’s wedding I’m going to wring your neck.”

“I am not going to screw anything up.”

“Then just stop it and stand still so I can tell them to start.”

I brushed an imaginary speck of dust from my dress. “You’re not the one who’s going to be looking at pictures of yourself in a lopsided dress for the next fifty years.”

Brynn groaned and rolled her eyes. “God, you’re hopeless. You look gorgeous, Molly.” She cracked the door and waved, and a moment later the organ began to play. “Get ready. Your dad is coming.” Her hand tightened on the doorknob.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Her head swiveled around to look at me. “Yes. Are you?”

Despite the tsunami of butterflies trying to batter their way out of my stomach I really was. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

She peeked through the door. “Dad’s at the altar. It’s showtime.”

Head held high I stepped through the door to take my father’s arm and head down the aisle towards Jonathan to start my new life as Molly Sanders. I was going to make up for all the years he had spent alone and give him the house full of children he had always wanted. And I was nothing like my mother at all.

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Resisting Molly
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When the doorbell rang that evening I glanced at the clock and smiled—seven on the dot, just as I expected. For as long I had known Jason he had always been punctual to a fault. As I opened the door he stood there for a moment, warm amber eyes regarding me critically.

“Well, you’re looking rather better. The other day you looked like death on a stick.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled. There’s nothing quite like having a hot guy telling you how awful you looked to drop kick your ego straight into the gutter.

“Hey, what are friends for?”

He brushed past me with a lingering scent of spice and sun-warmed man that jolted my body wide awake and emphatically reminded me that it had been way too long since the last guy in my life. It wasn’t that I had never noticed Jason before—I had nurtured a long-standing crush for him in high school, after all. This was the first time I had been totally alone with him in years, though, and I chalked my reaction up to my libido being overactive after a long dry spell. I tried hard not to think about it, to ignore the powerful tug of his masculinity as I led him over to the kitchen table where I had moved my books and papers, but I found myself casting surreptitious glances at him behind my eyelashes while I brought him up to speed on where my class was and what was giving me trouble.

His navy blue t-shirt fit snugly against the robust muscles of his biceps and upper torso, tantalizing me with memories of the way his buff, tanned body had glowed bronze in the sunlight whenever he had come over to use the pool at my parents’ house. Dark, coffee-brown curls hugged his head, a little longer than I was used to seeing them, with an adorable little flip in the back that my fingers itched to weave through. My eyes flickered down as he leaned back in his chair, noting the way his denim cut-offs gripped his muscular thighs, and heat pulsed low in my belly.

Oh, no, I was
not
doing this. I closed my eyes and took a mental step back. Jason was my brother’s best friend and totally off limits. Not that he had ever shown the slightest interest in me anyway, and I had already spent more than enough of my life mooning over him with my schoolgirl crush. Most importantly of all I needed him—as a
tutor
. If I came onto him or even showed him more interest than normal he’d be out of the door like a shot, and I could forget all about catching up in calculus before Spring Break was over.

Focus, focus, focus. I tore my attention away from him and concentrated on his explanation of the proof he was outlining. Losing myself in the math was bound to be a libido killer, like thinking about icebergs and penguins or my physics professor. It was all in my mind and I could control that. I wasn’t some little ditz who let herself be ruled by her hormones and screwed half the basketball team before she got knocked up and her parents pulled her out of school and moved away to some little town in Oklahoma. Meg Tilman, eleventh grade. Better her than me, right? Don’t be that person. Mind over matter.

By the time Jason got to the fourth proof in that homework set I knew that I was in deep trouble. I couldn’t remember a single thing that he had said, and none of it made the slightest bit of sense. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work and it wasn’t that he wasn’t a patient teacher and good at explaining the theory; the problem was that sitting inches away from him had managed to completely short circuit my brain. My eyes got lost on the promise of his full, dark lips and all I could think of was how much I wanted to grab him by the shirt and bury my face against him and soak for hours in his intoxicating scent, to explore every inch of those satin-wrapped muscles with my fingers, to feel his mouth eager and demanding on my own.

He shifted in his chair to pull out a piece of scratch paper and as he turned his arm brushed against mine. Heat flashed across my skin with a jolt like an electric shock and I jumped up to get away and hide my reaction from him because there was no way he could miss my suddenly rock-hard nipples if he glanced over at me. I hadn’t worn a bra because it was hot and I wasn’t planning to go out, and now I wanted to kick myself and hide under a rock. But how was I supposed to know that I’d react this way to him?

“Would you like something to drink?” I blurted as I scurried towards the refrigerator and prayed that a dose of cool air would put a damper on the liquid heat rampaging through my veins.

“Water would be nice.”

I pulled out a bottle for each of us, but to my disappointment the chill from the fridge didn’t help at all. Perhaps a bathtub full of ice might have accomplished something, but I couldn’t exactly go and take a cold shower with the ice tray while Jason was sitting at my kitchen table. Somehow I was going to have to get through this all on my own.

By sheer force of will I kept a grip on myself for almost three hours. I couldn’t say how much I actually learned before I walked Jason out and sagged in relief against the door as it closed behind him, but it certainly wasn’t enough to get me through my accumulated homework. This was ridiculous. How was I going to survive this torture for a whole week? How was I ever going to learn enough to finish all of my work before classes started again?

My skin ached for his touch while my pulse throbbed to the sound of his name.
Ja
son.
Ja
son.
Ja
son. The clock on the microwave assured me that it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet—far too early to go to bed and have any hope of simply sleeping off the effects of this hormonal pandemonium. With a sigh I collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table and cradled my head in my hands. It was going to be a long, lonely night.

“You okay, Lexie?”

I made the mistake of looking up into his eyes and was trapped. In that one glance I saw everything I had hoped to see, but magnified far past anything I had ever imagined. A slow shiver crept down my spine as I got my first real glimpse of the kind of intensity this man was capable of, and I knew right then that however the night went it wasn’t going to be anything at all like it had played out in my little fantasies.

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

Slowly Steven eased back into his chair, eyes still locked on mine, lips turned upwards in a twisted little smile. “Good. So what’s for dinner?”

“Shrimp scampi. I’ll go get it out of the oven.”

“Great. I’m starved.”

Even though I didn’t look back I knew that his eyes never left me as I returned to the kitchen.

While I was gone he must have taken a firmer grip on himself, because when I came back in Steven was relaxed as a cat and there was nothing remotely resembling confusion or doubt in those smoldering, golden brown eyes. He watched me with frank appreciation as I padded up and sat a steaming plate before him, and I was more than just a little self-conscious about this sudden new scrutiny.

This was a side of Steven I had never seen before. He was completely self assured and at ease, effortlessly funny and charming, and the looks he was giving me while I ate had me all wet and trembly before I got down half a dozen bites. Even so, he managed to relax me a little with jokes and stories about his flying days in the Marines while he sipped his wine and cleaned his plate. He had me so mesmerized that I didn’t even realize that both our plates were empty until Steven pushed his away and tipped his chair back.

“Oh, I almost forgot about dessert!”

I scurried to the kitchen and leaned my forehead against the refrigerator. My heart stuttered and skipped while warm waves coursed through my center and swirled around my lower belly. Under Steven’s shirt my breasts felt hot and heavy and my nipples were hard enough to cut glass. And he hadn’t even touched me yet. I was terrified that when he finally did I’d be ready to get on my knees and beg for anything he’d give me.

But I couldn’t hide in the kitchen forever.

I came out with coffee and a blackberry pie, and I had let my hair down so it hung like a dark, silken waterfall halfway down my back. Steven’s eyes lit up, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the dessert or me. He didn’t leave me in suspense for long; as soon as I unloaded everything onto the table he reached out and the next thing I knew I was sitting on his lap with his arms around my waist and his lips nuzzling against my ear.

“I love that perfume,” he growled softly. “You’ll have to wear it more often.”

He smelled pretty spectacular himself—tangy spice and cedar mixed with sexy male—and that combined with the heat of his body against mine had me melting like warm butter. In my depths a flutter kicked off with a powerful ache of longing that made me whimper. I was ready for him to clear off a spot on the table then rip off my clothes and take me right there.

Oh, who was I kidding? I didn’t care if he cleared a spot on the table first.

His hands crept slowly up my stomach to cup my breasts, and I shuddered as his thumbs found the hard knobs of my nipples and massaged them with gentle swirls. Lips latched onto my earlobe and the moist heat of his breath tickled against my neck.

“You’ve been trying so hard to make me notice you. Is this what you wanted, Lexie?”

“Yes.” It was the only word I could manage while his breath worked across my skin.

“Are you sure? Because once we do it you can’t take it back.”

“Yes.
Please
.”

He gave a throaty chuckle. “Your dad is going to kill both of us.”

At that moment I didn’t remotely care.