“Brayden, where the fuck are you?” Carter calls.
Ignoring him, I step forward and skim my hands down Molly’s sides. She shivers. I cup her ass as I lower my mouth to hers.
“Brayden?” Jake calls. “You here?”
“What are they doing here?” Molly whispers.
“Shh,” I whisper, my lips brushing across hers as I speak. “They’ll hear you.”
She stiffens and shakes her head. “Can this be our secret? Are you okay with keeping it from your family?”
I still at her words. I meant I didn’t think she wanted my brothers catching her naked in my arms, not that I didn’t think she wanted them to know we were . . . involved.
She lifts her hands to my face. “I don’t want to answer questions about what we are and aren’t. You know?”
“This can be a secret. It can be whatever you want,” I say, leaning my forehead against hers. I squeeze my eyes shut for a beat. Staying inside her lines might just be torture. “You make the rules, Moll.”
She rakes a hand down my chest and unbuttons my jeans. She slips her hand into my pants and cups my cock through my boxers. “I want you. Now.”
I lift her onto the counter and spread her legs so I can step between them. Her hands find my hair again, threading through and tugging as our mouths meet in the dark. She’s intoxicating—her soft skin, the minty taste of her toothpaste, and the smell of her strawberry shampoo. She makes me feel like I’m sixteen again and sneaking strawberry wine and making out with my crush. But it’s better. Because we’re completely sober, and Molly McKinley is in my arms, trembling in response to my mouth running down her neck, to my lips skimming along her unbelievably soft skin.
I latch on to the tender spot right beneath her ear and roll her nipple through her bra. She makes a desperate sound that might be my name.
“Shh,” I say, but I’m barely aware of my brothers’ voices in the kitchen. They might as well be in Mexico for all their presence matters to me. I’m entirely focused on Molly—the feel of her, the way she reacts to me, and the things I want to do. We don’t have nearly enough time, but I’m not about to send her away aching.
I slowly make my way down her body, teasing her nipples, circling her navel, grazing the waistband of her panties.
On the other side of the door, I hear someone clear his throat, then Jake says, “Yeah, we’ll just come back later.”
They’ve spotted her robe and my shirt, no doubt. They’ll probably want an explanation for that and will see right through me when I tell them Molly and I aren’t involved. That’s tonight’s problem. All that matters in this moment is bringing some satisfaction to the woman in my arms.
With one hand in her hair, I drop the other to her parted legs and lightly brush a knuckle against her, feeling how wet she is through the fabric of her panties. She jerks her hips, chasing the pressure of my hand.
I do another teasing pass and suck her earlobe between my teeth. “I want to play with you for hours,” I whisper into her ear. I pull the lace to the side and circle her opening. She’s so wet. I could lose my whole day touching her. “I want to taste you right here.”
“Brayden.” She shudders in my arms. “I think about this all the time. Your hands . . .”
I slide a finger into her, and she gasps. She’s tight and slick, and the sounds she’s making . . . “When I have more time, I’m going to kiss you here again.” I bite her neck, her shoulder, sucking and scraping my teeth the way I know she likes. “I’ve thought about you coming under my mouth so many times. Have you thought about it, Molly? Thought about me sucking you? Licking you?” I thrust into her, pulling out and adding a second finger before giving her the pressure of my palm against her clit.
“Yes,” she whispers. “So many times.”
“I want you to think about it all night at work. About me and how I’m going to touch you when you get home.”
She trembles in my arms. Her body winds tighter around my fingers then releases. She bites my shoulder hard as she comes, muffling her cry.
I rub her gently through the last waves of her climax. She clings to me in the dark. Tonight, I’ll touch her with the lights on. I need to see her face, to watch the pleasure wash over her as she comes.
When I know she’s spent, I kiss her—a long and thorough kiss meant to tell her what I’m not allowed to say in words. This is more than touching. This is more than physical. You’re worth more than you’re letting me give you.