I want to kiss him so badly, but when I follow his gaze to the kitchen windows, I see Noah watching us. “Did my snowgirl leave any magic hot chocolate for you?”
“Yeah. And it’s a good thing, too.” Brayden heads toward the door but turns his head to drag his gaze over me. “I’m definitely craving something sweet.”
Brayden
Molly is trying to kill me. That’s the only explanation for why she would walk into the kitchen in a fluffy white robe when her wet hair tells me there’s a ninety percent chance she’s naked beneath that terrycloth.
Jill arrived to pick up Noah shortly after we finished our hot cocoa, and Molly got in the shower as soon as they left. It was all I could do not to follow her. Since I don’t want our first time back together to be a quick shower fuck, I made myself resist. But now she’s in my kitchen. In her robe. And probably naked underneath it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She leans against the pantry door and smiles at me over her steaming mug of coffee.
“I’m trying to decide what you are or aren’t wearing beneath that robe, and if you’re deliberately trying to make me lose my mind.”
She sets her mug on the counter and tugs on the tie around her waist—but sadly, not hard enough to make it come undone. “You should come find out.”
I stalk toward her, desperate to taste her again, to feel her skin under my hands. “When do you have to leave?”
“Too soon.”
I swallow hard. Now that I’ve been given permission to touch her, I don’t want her anywhere but my bed.
Permission to touch her but not to start a relationship.
It’s an offer I know I should resist, but I can’t. Christ. Maybe it’ll be worth it—letting her go, watching her walk away—if it means for a short while I get to feel her in my arms again.
I press her against the wall, and her body arches into mine as I lower my mouth to hers—a sweep of lips and tongues, her hands on my chest, curling into my shirt.
I snake my hand between our bodies and untie her robe. The material parts, and I slip my hand beneath it and hiss when I feel the scrap of lace at her hip. Breaking the kiss, I step back and push the robe off her shoulders. Her lips part and her eyes go dark as it falls to the floor. I study her—the pert nipples under the black lace bra, the barely there V of lace between her thighs.
I don’t know why, but the thought of her putting the robe on after her lace bra and panties makes this hotter. Maybe because it seems deliberate. Like she put on the lace, thinking of me, and came into the kitchen in her robe because she wanted to make sure I saw it.
I shake my head in wonder and drag a knuckle slowly down the side of her breast, the dip of her waist, and the curve of her hip. In the sunlight coming in the kitchen windows, I can make out faint stretchmarks across her belly I never noticed during our night together. The marks from carrying her son. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t imagine any way you could be more perfect.”
She pulls me forward by the hem of my shirt and kisses me hard before stepping back to tug it off over my head. “I want to look too,” she says, tossing my shirt to the floor.
I hold my breath as she runs her fingertips down my chest, past my waistband and over the fly of my jeans.
“We have fifteen minutes before I need to go,” she says, her eyes eating me up. “Take me to bed.”
I lean forward and nip at her neck. “That’s not nearly enough time.”
She whimpers and arches into me. “Sure it is.”
Smiling, I step closer so I can position a thigh between her legs. She smells so damn good, a heady cocktail of her arousal and strawberry shampoo. I want to kiss every inch of her. “I won’t be rushed,” I murmur, but I cup her breast in my hand and pinch her nipple. I love the way she gasps. The way her hands dive into my hair and tug.
“Please, Brayden.” She rocks against my thigh, circling her hips and moaning into my ear. “I want you so badly.”
The front door clatters open. The sound of my brothers’ bickering comes to us from the foyer.
Molly’s eyes go wide. Grinning, I grab her hand and guide her into the dark pantry with me, softly clicking the door closed behind us. My brothers storm their way into the kitchen, and I make a mental note to talk to them about knocking.
“We’re here early,” Jake says. “Let’s get this party started.”