by Kaylea Cross
The moon was up when he pulled into the driveway, and he was surprised to see Beckett’s truck parked in front of the house. Why were they here? Weren’t they supposed to be at the hotel by now?
He let himself into his suite and pulled off the bow tie before striding to the door that separated his space from the rest of the house. Molly’s house, though she hadn’t lived here for a couple weeks now.
Just as he reached for the doorknob, a knock sounded from the other side. He pulled it open, expecting Sierra or Beckett.
His heart did a painful, backward somersault when he found Molly standing there instead.
The moonlight filtering through the windows at the front of the house made her lavender dress shimmer with an unearthly light. It caught on her dark curls in brushstrokes of silver and made her gold-and-green irises glow like cat’s eyes.
“Hey,” he managed once he found his voice. “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer right away, the expression on her face tugging at something inside him. “I borrowed Beckett’s truck in case anyone was watching the house and came to grab a few things. No one followed me. I didn’t think you’d be home so soon, so when I saw your truck pull up I…wanted to say hi.”
He nodded, feigning nonchalance even though he was all twisted up inside. She shouldn’t have come here alone. What was going on? “Wedding was perfect, huh?” For Beckett and Sierra, at least.
“Yes.” She kept staring at him. “You’re home early.”
Was she fishing for information? Why? “Yeah. Been a long day.”
She nodded, her gaze shifting behind him into his place. “Am I interrupting?”
He frowned. “No, why?”
“I saw you leave with your date, so I wasn’t sure if you brought her back here…”
“I took her home.” He would never bring someone back here while Molly lived upstairs anyway.
“Oh.” She looked away, a small sigh escaping her. He wanted to believe it was relief, but that was just wishful thinking.
He was wired too tight right now to try and decipher the mixed signals he was picking up from her, and not in the mood for bullshit small talk. “I told her I couldn’t see her anymore. And I never even kissed her.” He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to add that last bit, but he did.
At that her gaze snapped to his, and he swore he saw a spark of hope there. What the hell?
No.
He shook himself. He was seeing what he wanted to see, not what was really there.
“What do you want, Moll,” he finally asked, weary and wanting this night to be over already. He loved roller coasters, but not this kind.
She kept staring at him, those cat’s eyes searching his, as though she wanted to say something but was afraid to. He could see the indecision warring in her face.
And something else.
Yearning. A soul-deep yearning that shoved the breath from his lungs and made him go completely still. What the hell? Am I nuts?
No. He knew her, dammit. Could read her face and expressions better than anyone.
She looked away, losing her nerve. But he knew what he’d seen and now it felt like an invisible vise was squeezing his ribcage.
“Moll,” he said, his voice a quiet rasp in the silence, his heart thudding hard against the back of his sternum. Did he dare hope that…? “Look at me.”
She hesitated for an endless moment, then raised her eyes to his once more. And the unspoken plea he saw there almost brought him to his knees. “Why are you here?” he repeated, needing her to be honest with him. He refused to get his hopes up anymore. He was sick of having his heart mashed.
Her fingers fidgeted in front of her belly. “I…miss you, and I want…”
His aching heart swelled, pushing back against the pressure of the invisible vise. He’d already put himself out there once and received a sledgehammer blow to the chest in return. He wasn’t doing it again. If she wanted him, then she had to tell him. “What do you want?” Say it. Please, God, say it.
When she didn’t answer, frustration punched through his cautious façade. She was killing him, standing two feet away in the moonlight in that gorgeous dress with her heart in her eyes and leaving him guessing. “What do you want, Moll?”
A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. “You,” she whispered, so soft he could barely hear her.
Stunned, Jase exhaled in an unsteady rush as that sweet word splintered through him, damn near making his knees buckle. Thank. Fucking. God.
Hardly able to believe this was happening, he reached for her, hauling her to him and crushing her in his arms, half-afraid that she might disappear before his eyes.
His throat was so tight he could barely get any words out, his voice a hoarse rasp in the quiet. “Angel, you’ve always had me.”
Chapter Twenty
Molly felt like she’d just jumped off a tall building without a parachute. She was falling, hurtling through the air, and only Jase could stop her from hitting the ground.
Her heart knocked against her ribs, a knot of emotion making it hard to breathe as his heavy arms closed around her, drawing her tight to his body. Sensation burst along all her nerve endings, a soft cry locking in her throat. She was still afraid, afraid this might wind up being a terrible mistake she would pay for later, but she would rather take the risk than lose him.
She’d almost lost him. Had come precariously, terrifyingly close to missing her chance to find out what it would be like to be his.
It was almost like she’d been asleep these past few months, and watching him with his date tonight had shocked her wide-awake. Even though this step could mean the end of their friendship, and that there was a tiny chance he could end up like Carter had.
With pure determination, she pushed the whispers of caution aside. There was no place for that here, with him.
Pulling in a shuddering breath, she hung on tight, her hands curled around the tops of his thick shoulders. Her insides were a quivering mess, her entire body vibrating with suppressed longing.
She pressed closer to his hard frame, digging her fingers deeper into his muscles, conveying her silent desperation because she was afraid to voice it aloud.
He didn’t say anything, just held her tight, so tight the mound of her belly pressed into his stomach, his cheek resting against hers.
Finding her courage, she eased her head back until he straightened and met her gaze questioningly. She gave him a smile tinged with nerves. “Will you dance with me?” She wanted a complete dance, not the few stiff minutes they’d shared earlier. Something to ease them into the scorching flames that awaited. After the chilly distance between them these past few weeks, it was more than a welcome change.
A slow, sexy grin spread across his face. “Of course I will.” He stepped back a little, putting just enough space between them that he could still curl his hand around to rest on the small of her back and held up the other, waiting.
She slid her hand into his and settled her left one on his shoulder. Just as it had during the reception, that invisible zing of electricity arced between them, curling through her, filling her with heat. She didn’t want to think about what would happen tomorrow; she wanted to lose herself in the magic of the moment and see where it led.
In the background a woman was singing an old jazz song she recognized. “Who is this?” she whispered, not wanting to speak too loudly for fear of breaking the spell.
“Billie Holiday.”
She recognized the song, the sultry notes and voice adding to the underlying sensuality of the moment. Jase was moving her in a pattern. Slow and steady.
It was effortless to follow him. He guided her with total assurance and ease, and the skill of a man who was completely confident in himself and at home in his body.
She hadn’t anticipated how much of a turn on that would be. She’d danced with him before, but never in this intimate context. The way her body moved with his while fully clothed was a revelation.
&nb
sp; Molly let herself drift to the music, getting lost in the growing intimacy between them and the lovely, heightening sense of anticipation. So much so that it took her a moment to realize they were no longer moving.
Slowly, she lifted her head. He stared down at her, the unmistakable heat and longing in his eyes undoing her.
“Jase,” she whispered unsteadily, unsure how to put her feelings into words. The need and surprise, the lingering worry that something would go wrong. There was no way she could go slow now. Her entire body was keyed up, ready to come apart at the seams with desire.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he murmured, kissing her nose, her cheeks. “We’re okay. Just follow my lead.”
His words took the edge off her building anxiety, but not the wild hunger inside her. Her skin was alive, craving the feel of his hands. She shook her head. “Touch me. Please touch me.” It had been so long since she’d been touched the way she needed to be. So many weeks that she’d imagined what Jase’s naked body would feel like against hers.
Jase took her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers, scattering her thoughts like a flock of startled birds. He took ownership of her, kissing her slow and deep as one hand gripped the back of her head to hold her still, the tender possession making her insides quiver.
His tongue delved into her mouth to stroke hers, caressing, teasing until she couldn’t get close enough. Her breasts ached, the nipples hard and throbbing, the rush of heat between her thighs making her wet and needy.
She gasped as he tipped her head to the side and nibbled his way down her jaw to her neck, the glide of his hot tongue making her shiver. Her hands moved restlessly over the powerful width of his shoulders and back, unable to get enough of him, frustrated by the fabric barring her from his bare skin. She reached for the top button of his shirt, fumbled to get it undone.
“Rip it,” he commanded, his voice deep and dark against her neck.
Yes. A wave of desire shot through her, pushing her arousal level even higher. Gripping each half of his collar, she yanked. Hard.
Buttons popped, some of them hitting the floor.
Jase growled in approval and scraped the edge of his teeth against a sensitive spot on her neck but she was too busy trying to see what she’d revealed and pulled back a little to stare hungrily at the sight before her. He was stark, masculine beauty standing there in the dimness with his shirt ripped open, that expanse of bare chest and abs on display.
She pressed her lips to the spot just below the notch at the top of his sternum, allowing her tongue to steal out to taste him. His sharp intake of breath sliced through the air, the hand in her hair tightening.
She inhaled his scent, drinking that dark, masculine spice in. He smelled incredible, and having more than six feet of aroused, ripped man in front of her had her head spinning. She started to kiss her way across his chest but he pulled her head up and slanted his mouth across hers in a deep, blistering kiss that made her forget how to breathe.
He kissed her like he was staking a claim. Like she had always been meant to be his.
She was panting, her legs unsteady when he broke the kiss and suddenly grasped her by the shoulders to spin her around, facing away from him. A heartbeat later a solid wall of heat pressed all along the back of her.
His hands went to her hips to steady her for a moment, then coasted slowly up her sides. Molly closed her eyes, absorbing the sensation, the delicious build of anticipation, her breasts tightening in expectation.
He followed every curve of her new shape, the heat of his hands making her throb and ache for the moment when they closed around her breasts. His mouth was at her nape now, nuzzling and nibbling his way across her bare shoulders.
But instead of going for her breasts, he skimmed his fingertips across her collarbones in a teasing caress that left goosebumps in their wake. They brushed over the tops of her shoulders and across the top of her back, coming to rest on the zipper at the top of her spine.
“Your skin’s so soft,” he whispered, easing the tab downward. Slowly, with excruciating precision.
A cool wash of air brushed over her hot skin as the fabric parted, inch by inch. He drew the zipper down with deliberate slowness, the fingers of his other hand stroking gentle patterns over the flesh he bared.
Without thinking Molly grabbed the front of the bodice to keep it from falling.
Jase shifted behind her, sinking to his knees as he drew the zipper down all the way to the base of her spine. Then his big hands curled around her hips in a firm but gentle grip, and squeezed softly. She shifted restlessly, ready to melt into a puddle at his feet.
Warmth bathed the base of her spine. His mouth. Kissing. Licking. Moving over her bare skin with a slow, torturous lack of haste.
Her head tipped back, her body caught under the spell he wove with each decadent caress of his mouth. His hands held her steady, his tongue gliding over the new erogenous spot she’d never known was there.
The tide of emotions flooding her was almost too much. She couldn’t believe this was really happening, that Jase was here, touching her this way, holding her.
Loving her.
She felt it in the way he held her. In every caress and shift of his strong, skillful hands. In each hungry, passion-laced kiss.
He was Carter’s best friend. It should have felt wrong, but it didn’t. Instead it felt incredibly, overwhelmingly right.
Yet when he started to pull the fabric of the dress down her body, she held the bodice tighter, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of self-consciousness. She’d imagined this moment so many times in the past few weeks, but Jase had never seen her naked and now she was so pregnant, her body alien even to her.
“Let go,” he said against the base of her spine, steel underlying the soft command.
She swallowed, hesitating.
“Moll. Let go.” His voice was low. Quiet. He tugged at the fabric with insistent pressure, his open mouth on her skin, tongue caressing, making her anticipate the moment when he licked other, more sensitive places. She wasn’t sure whether she could stand it.
Molly loosened her grip and let the dress fall to the floor, leaving her in just her pushup bra and low-cut panties.
“Turn around.”
Just the sound of his voice, all low and seductive, turned her on. Letting out an unsteady breath, she turned, the sight of him kneeling there in front of her now in only his pants making her heart pound.
“Ah, Moll,” he breathed, reaching for her hips once more as he leaned forward to nuzzle the mound of her belly.
She swallowed and ran a hand through his thick hair, desperate for him to take the edge off this need he’d ignited in her. His hands smoothed up her ribs and over her back before coming to rest just beneath the band of her bra. Her whole body was hypersensitive, the slightest brush of his fingers sending ripples of sensation through her.
With a deft, sure movement he undid her bra. She cupped the front of it to her briefly, holding his gaze a moment, then let it fall.
His groan vibrated between them as her breasts spilled free, tight and aching. Heat sizzled across her skin as he cradled them in his palms. Learning their shape, their weight. Then his mouth was on her skin.
She sighed, sinking both hands into his soft hair as he worshipped her breasts, his tongue finally curling around her aching nipple. She pulled him closer, unable to stand the teasing. He obliged her, taking the tight center into his mouth to suck.
Molly whimpered and held him closer, her body craving release from the incessant pressure inside her. “Oh, God, I’m so wet,” she whispered. It was almost embarrassing.
His eyes lifted to hers, his mouth tugging on her nipple one last time before his gaze slid down to her panties. “Are you?” he murmured, bending his head to skim his lips down the curve of her belly, pausing just above the edge of her panties to look up at her. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his sinful mouth. “How wet?”
“Find out,” she whispered back boldly. She’
d never been shy sexually and didn’t see any reason to start now. She wanted him. Wanted him to know it, and do something about this terrible need.
His low growl turned into a deep purr as he rubbed his face against the lower swell of her belly, his chin just barely grazing her mound. She gripped his hair, her fingers flexing. She was drenched, her pulse racing, and it was getting hard to breathe.
His lips caressed her belly while his fingers trailed lower, skimming over the delicate lace covering her. “I’m gonna slide my tongue inside you,” he murmured. “Taste you. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to.”
She sucked in a breath and tugged on his hair, ready to combust. That was so freaking hot to hear. “Jase…”
A deep, dark chuckle answered, then he was peeling the lace down, over her hips, down her thighs. Before they even hit the floor, he was gripping her hips, his face coming closer and closer to where she needed it.
She pressed her lips together, stemming a shudder when the heat of his breath caressed her. Oh, please…
The feel of his hot, intimate kiss loosened her knees.
She gasped and flung a hand out behind her to grip the edge of the table. Oh God, his tongue. His hot, perfect tongue.
“Ohh,” she cried, coming up on her toes as he caressed her pulsing clit. Slow. Soft. Watching her reaction.
He made a deep sound that might have been agreement and nuzzled closer, making good on his promise as he licked and stroked her most sensitive place and finally slid his tongue inside her.
She whimpered, her thigh muscles quivering, her fingers locked in his hair.
Jase kept going, seeming to enjoy tormenting her, building her pleasure until she was gasping and trembling, her hand on the table and his grip on her hips the only things keeping her from sliding to the floor.
Then he stopped.
Her eyes flew open, a protest ready to burst from her lips, but he’d been waiting for her to look at him, because he resumed, carefully stroking the side of her clit before easing down and making her watch while he sank his tongue into her.
