“Yes,” she said, as he ran his finger down the line of her throat. “Take off your T-shirt, please.”
“Hmm.” Using his grip on her nape to bring her forward, he claimed another kiss, his lips firm, his touch that of a man who knew his lover would permit him anything. “I don’t think a bad girl who interrupts my work should get what she wants.”
“You weren’t working.” She bit down on his lower lip hard enough to sting. “You were brooding.”
Slits of dangerous green watched her from behind lowered lashes. “Brooding?”
It was a purr that dared her to repeat the accusation, but Molly wasn’t about to be intimidated, even by her rock star. “Brooding.”
Dipping his head, he tugged one sensitive nipple between his teeth, licking his tongue over and over it until she tried to rock her body on his. He held her down. “No,” he said, freeing her nipple with a last leisurely lick. “I think it’s time I reminded you I like to be in charge.”
Skin tight at the sinful warning, Molly played her fingers over his lips. “I’ve never forgotten.” Kissing him her way, softness and heat and tenderness, she stroked both hands under his T-shirt to push it up again, hot skin over steely muscle beneath her touch. “Doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you when you need it.”
This time he helped her get the black material off over his head. Dropping it to the floor, he sat up so she could press her br**sts flush against him. “Did you think I needed some Molly-time?”
She heard the thaw in him, and it did things to her to know she had the power to reach him even through such stormy anger. If she hadn’t been able to deal with Fox’s temper, they’d have had a serious problem—but she could… because despite everything, he let her in. “Yes.” Kissing the side of his neck, she luxuriated in the feel of him around her. “I needed you, too. The sheets are cold without you.”
“Out comes the truth,” Fox said, though Molly had just smashed right through his defenses to lay him bare. “You only want me for my body heat.”
“Of course.”
Running his fingers down the cleft of her bu**ocks to where she stretched so tight around his renewed erection, he watched in possessive pleasure as she arched her body back against the panel. The position thrust up her br**sts and he took full advantage, grazing his teeth over the lower curves, rubbing his jaw against her delicate skin.
“You’ve soaked my jeans,” he murmured to his Molly, who’d fought for him exactly as she’d promised, who hadn’t flinched or looked away when the going got hard. “That reminds me—it’s been a couple of days since I’ve licked you up.”
“I have been feeling a bit neglected,” she said on a rasp of breath.
“Poor pretty baby.” Careful of her sensitized flesh, he shifted her gently until she was reclining fully on the part of the panel that had no raised switches. Creamy and lush, she was a work of art, one for his personal and very private perusal. “Did you know I have video recording equipment in here?”
Molly’s chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. “What?”
“Yeah, sometimes it helps to watch the way my fingers move on the strings.” He rocked into her to her soft moan. “Maybe I should turn it on—it might help me refine my technique to watch my fingers move on you.”
Molly’s spine arched up in a sweet curve, her body caressing his in a rush of liquid heat.
“Beautiful,” he murmured and used his forefinger to stroke the slippery nub of her cl*t exactly as his Molly liked.
Giving a shocked little cry, she came a second time.
“I think,” he murmured after her eyes opened, her body honey in his arms, “you like the idea of making your own sex tape.” He loved how she always cuddled up against him after sex, his personal armful of woman. “Naughty Molly.”
“We are not making a sex tape.” It was a breathless warning. “The next thing you know, it’ll be on the Internet.”
“What if I promise to erase it after a thorough viewing to review my technique?”
“Do I look like I was born yesterday?”
“I love it when you blush.” The pink flush made him want to taste, and because she was his, he leaned down and laved his tongue over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to practice my technique on you.”
He would’ve touched her again between the legs, but she pushed away his hand. “Too sensitive.”
Shifting his hand to her thigh instead, he petted her slow and easy until she didn’t repudiate his next caress of her clit. He kept each stroke featherlight, his kisses on her throat unhurried, building a song, note by carefully chosen note, until her body reached the right melody.
“My beautiful Molly.” Who had fought for him.
Putting together some food after their sexual play, Molly took the plate out to where Fox sprawled at the table by the pool. He’d changed into the cutoff sweatpants he often wore while exercising, his upper body gleaming under the moonlight, the sky midnight blue and scattered with stars.
“I like this robe,” he murmured, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger when she put the food on the table. “I like what’s inside it even more.” His hand lightly cupping her breast, he drew her down for a kiss that felt as affectionate as it was sensual.
Body and heart both melting at the way he touched her, Molly took a seat opposite him, sipping at a cup of chocolate-mint tea while he cleared his plate. “More?” she asked, but he shook his head, his expression unreadable. “What’s wrong?”