Love. Somehow it’s there, whether we’re prepared for it or not. It grows whether it’s wanted or not.
Molly
Brayden scoops me into his arms, and I yelp. He grins down at me and carries me to his bedroom, laying me out on his big bed. His eyes burn into me with so much lust that it’s like we didn’t just have sex. He looks at me like he’s starved. Like he hasn’t touched anyone in centuries and is desperate for the feel and taste of skin. My skin. My touch.
Five minutes ago, I was convinced he couldn’t possibly wring another ounce of pleasure from my body, but now it flicks back to life one cell at a time under the heat of his gaze. I hold out a hand. “Are you going to get in bed with me or just stand there?”
He grins again. “I intend to spend most of my morning in bed with you.” He pinches my ass hard enough to make me yelp. “But not yet. I’ll be right back.”
I watch him, my gaze on the way his unbuttoned jeans fall low on his hips. He disappears down the hallway. I let my eyes float closed and nestle deeper into his blankets.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of silverware clanking on a plate. I force my eyes open and see a steaming plate of eggs and toast as Brayden sets it on his bedside table.
“Fresh breakfast,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Since the one you made went cold, thanks to me.”
I smirk. “I didn’t mind.” I sit up in bed and take the coffee in my hands, inhaling deeply before taking a sip. “God, this is good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“So why did the investor cancel your meeting?”
“He didn’t.”
I frown. “But you said—”
“I canceled it.”
“You canceled a meeting? You, Brayden?” I do my best to keep my jaw hinged. “Why?”
His nostrils flare, and his eyes darken. “Because I can’t stop thinking about how it feels to be inside you. Or the sounds you make when you come.”
My thighs clench, and heat pools in my belly and tugs lower, begging for a repeat performance of the magic show he worked on my body in the kitchen. I lick my lips and give him my best sultry grin. “Who would’ve guessed that quiet, all-business Brayden Jackson has such a dirty mouth?”
He arches a brow. “I don’t remember you complaining about my mouth yesterday.”
A shiver races through me at the reminder of being propped on my desk, the sight of him lowering to his knees as he shoved my skirt up my hips and—as he promised that day in the pantry—kissing me through the lace of my panties until I was screaming his name. “Who said I was complaining?”
He smirks and opens his mouth to say something, but his phone rings from the bedside table. He closes his eyes and buries his face between my breasts. “Ignore it.”
I grab it. “No. I won’t be responsible for turning you into a delinquent.” My grin falls away when I see the name on the screen. “It’s Sara Jeffers.”
He stiffens. “Just let it go to voicemail.”
I should shove the phone in his hands and encourage him to take the call. Instead, I put it down on the bedside table and slip from his grasp to climb out of bed. “I need to get ready for work.”
“Molly?”
“What?” I keep my face blank as I turn back to him.
“I don’t know why she’s calling.”
I shrug. “It’s fine.”
The look in his eyes says he knows it’s not fine at all, but he lets me walk out of his room, and the entire time I’m dressing for work, I’m thinking of our conversation Monday night.
He loved Sara because she wanted the same things he did—a family and kids. A future.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he wants those things now. So why is he wasting time with me when I can’t offer any of that?
Molly
“Do I want to know where we are?” Nic whispers.
I climb out of the limo Veronica rented for her twin sister’s bachelorette party and cringe at the club in front of us. The marquee flashes promises in neon lights.
MALE DANCERS!
LIVE OUT YOUR WILDEST FANTASIES!
HALF-PRICE WELL DRINKS!
Veronica giggles, and Shay and I exchange a look. We all would have preferred a night in a big booth at Jackson Brews to a night with some stranger trying to rub his junk in our faces.
Nic’s still blindfolded, at Veronica’s insistence. I take her hand as we follow Veronica into the club. The guy on stage shakes his ass in nothing more than a G-string, a Santa hat, and a fluffy white beard. I cringe.
“Dear Lord,” Shay whispers beside me. “I just threw up in my mouth a little.”