WindSwept Narrows: #23 Molly & Natasha

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “Whoa…”

  “Easy, honey. Sometimes it takes a few seconds for your legs to get their stability again,” Jonathon wasn’t sure whether his gesture was sane or not, though when she leaned into him, her forehead went against his shoulder while she pulled in a slow breath. “Alright?”

  Molly’s head nodded up and down a few times before she placed both hands on his shoulders and raised her head.

  “I’m good. Just a little wobbly…” The air that had begun filling her lungs suddenly evaporated.

  Jonathon felt his body react to the full lips being moistened by her tongue and the feeling of her body against his. Her gaze had begun on his mouth and moved slowly higher. For a brief few seconds, he was positive he saw panic inside the midnight wells watching him. Then a softness settled there and she brought one hand from his shoulder to stroke over his face.

  “A no shaving weekend?”

  “Should I reconsider?”

  “No…I like it,” she said with a little nod.

  “I’m a rebel,” he quipped gruffly, struggling to find the control that had become second nature and was abruptly gone.

  “I think it’s that kind of weekend,” Molly murmured and leaned into him, her mouth touching across his very softly at first.

  He felt the tip of her tongue against the full bow of his lower lip seconds before she nipped at it and sucked gently. His cock went from semi-hard to painful against the tight front of his jeans when she turned the light touch into a hungry, ravishing kiss that made the bottoms of his boots melt.

  His fingers tightened around her waist, pulling hard until there wasn’t a breath of air between them. For the first time in a very long time, Jon found himself not trusting his control and fully expected it to snap with a loud, audible explosion. Each time her tongue thrust between his lips, teasing and taunting, stroking and fencing with his, he felt the heat spread throughout his body, just a little bit hotter. If he moved his hands from her waist, he’d end up fucking her in the parking lot bent over his bike.

  Definitely not the action of a cool, professional CEO.

  He groaned beneath lips that softened and released his, the sight of her lashes fluttering open visible through the narrow slits of his eyes.

  “That was one hell of a rebellion, Molly.”

  “I’m going to blame the moon,” she said after clearing her throat and taking a less than steady step back. She nodded slowly to her words. “Yes. The moon. I don’t know how else to explain it.” She turned toward the wide expanse of the docks and manufacturing area spread far below the overlook bluff to the north of Tacoma. Boots echoed softly over the concrete, her hands on the solid steel railing edging the hillside. “It’s amazing,” she breathed, taking in the various lights, the colors and the buildings in the process of renovation, destruction or creation.

  Jonathon kicked the stand into place and dismounted, his boots quiet behind her. Large hands settled on her waist, his feet braced when he leaned her into him.

  “The view…or the kiss?” He bent his head and spoke next to her ear, the gentle sup of breath an incredibly erotic sound that further heightened his hunger for this woman.

  “I’m honestly not that aggressive, Jonathon. I…there’s something about you that seems to bring it out and I can’t figure out what it is,” she said honestly, the solid feel of his chest behind her head. Scents wafted through her. The soft smell of tide and sand; a variety of aromatic foods from the restaurant three dozen feet away and the mix of scents coming to her straight from Jonathon. His, the most heady of them all and shooting straight to everything girl inside her.

  “Why is it puzzling you, Molly?” He gave into the urge, his palms slipping beneath her waist length jacket to hold her more firmly against him. There was no way he could hide his reaction to her. She’d asked for honesty and he was only coming to realize just how important that was to him. Her willingness to talk about what she was feeling dug deep inside him and for the first time he realized that kind of intimacy had been missing from his other relationships. You had sex, but never talked about it. Now all of a sudden hearing the words seemed to make it that much more erotic and elusive.

  And maybe this was his midlife crisis.

  “We met less than four hours ago,” she finally said after a few minutes of unrushed silence. She could feel him breathing, the warm air caressing the side of her face. She wasn’t that much shorter than him with the boots on. She continued to hold onto the cold railing. “I suppose that’s part of it.”

  “I think I’m old enough to comprehend the word no. I’m also old enough to accept that the pace is something we decide,” he answered quietly. “Not the mandates of some relationship expert with a schedule and everything neatly lined out.”

  Molly laughed softly. “Oh, wait, I have to check the schedule to see what we’re supposed to be doing.”

  “Brat.”

  “You make me laugh and think. I like that.”

  “Then we’re even so far.”

  “Really?” She pushed her hips back hard against the evidence constrained inside his jeans. “That…is my fault. I’m not sure you can take blame for it on your own. Though, I suppose you could.”

  “Girls hide their arousal easier,” he tossed back, grinding his teeth at the feel of her ass stroking against his cock. “That’s a dangerous thing to promise, Molly.”

  “Not dangerous. Cocky,” she gurgled with laughter, her hands pulled free when he released her waist and gripped her shoulders, spinning her to face him. “I haven’t been called a brat before. I think I like it.”

  “I think I’ve somehow managed to unleash a side of you that’s been locked away, waiting for me, Molly,” he lowered his mouth, ready to plunge his tongue between the soft, laughing lips. He was beginning to wonder if the same was true in reverse. Had his male been waiting for a pixie brat to help him remember another side to life besides obligations?

  “Henry! Henry, what’s wrong? Oh my god! Help!” The voice was female and frantic, frightened and breathless. “Someone help me, please!”

  Molly jerked back at the same time Jonathon released her, his head turning in the direction of the female voice. Both watched as an older man continued to fall toward the parking lot concrete. Only his palm on the fender of the large car kept him from slamming into the ground and further hurting himself.

  “Call 9-1-1,” she ordered before taking off at a run across the short span, dropping to her jean covered knees within seconds. She’d seen his hand flutter over his upper chest just after the call out came through the darkness. Her hands moved quickly, checking his breathing and then settling at the side of his throat. “Hi, I’m Molly…what’s his name?”

  “Henry…my husband…” came the weak, shaking voice. “I don’t know what happened. He was laughing and we were talking and going home…”

  “Is he taking any medicine?”

  “Pocket,” came the slightly breathless rasp. “Wine…shouldn’t have…I forgot…our celebration…”

  Molly patted down the suit coat he was wearing, coming up with the slim, small glass bottle. She read quickly, rolled one onto her palm and capped the bottle before slipping her hand beneath his head. The small pill was between two fingers.

  “Open,” she ordered, softly but firmly. “What’s your wife’s name, Henry?”

  She knew the procedures. Knew the absent sounding questions and the importance of the right answers.

  “Chrissy…beautiful, don’t you think?” He whispered, the corner of his mouth lifting in a little smile as his tongue rolled the pill around, letting it dissolve.

  “Gorgeous,” Molly agreed, sitting back on her heels and sighing thickly. “We’ve called an ambulance for you, Henry. I think you’ll be fine. You know you shouldn’t have had the wine…and you forgot some medication, didn’t you?”

  “Celebrating our anniversary,” Henry answered, his labored breathing easing off to a more normal rhythm.

  “How many years have you
been married?” She continued the routine, checking his pupils and lightly holding his wrist, silently counting the now steady pulse.

  “Twenty-seven,” Chrissy said from beside her. “Oh, Henry, you scared me…”

  “How about if you sit here next to Henry and we’ll wait. I’m sure you holding his hand…” Molly stopped when the man reached up and gripped her wrist, his head shaking.

  “Can’t…bad knees…don’t let her hurt herself…” he ordered with a strength in his words that said he’d protect her until his last breath.

  “No…no, that was a bad idea from me…” Molly felt hot moisture searing her eyes when Jonathon brought a chair from inside the restaurant. “Here…she can sit now…it shouldn’t be long,” she said, blinking rapidly and staring up at Jonathon, relieved when he held up two fingers. “Thank you.”

  “Stupid of me…I’m feeling much better…”

  “And you’re going to the emergency room, Henry Michael Fontaine,” Chrissy informed him, sitting on the chair and shaking her head. “I know about the pills. I don’t know why…I should have…I wasn’t thinking, either. We’re a couple of old romantic fools, Henry.”

  “It’s not always easy to think clearly when someone you love is in pain,” Molly ran one hand over the shock of white hair on the man’s forehead. “But I think you can relax. His breathing’s almost normal and his pulse is strong.”

  “Are you a doctor?” Chrissy asked, bending at the waist and touching her husband on the forehead. “You silly…”

  “I am…just moved here from Florida and I love the area,” Molly told them as she reached to loosen the tie around his neck. “They were very accommodating for giving my license transfer a quick approval.”

  “Are you with the new hospital? At the resort?” Henry asked with a deep breath, his head tipped toward the hand touching his forehead. “I’m okay, Chrissy. Just a little breathless, is all…”

  “Quiet and you lay still,” Chrissy ordered with a shake of her head.

  “I work in family medicine there.”

  “We love what they’re doing and we go to the casino now and then to play some quarter slots,” Chrissy said with a little laugh. “And to watch the people. This area has changed so much in the last two years. It’s a wonderful thing to see. Good people working hard to build a city again.”

  All eyes were up at the sound of the ambulance, the blaring announcement of their arrival made Molly start to move away.

  “You’ll go with him,” Chrissy gripped her arm, peering into the dark eyes hopefully. “Please. I…I trust you…please…”

  “Of course…but I…”

  “I’ll follow behind, Molly,” Jonathon bent with his hands on his knees, taking in the older couple and the woman between them on her knees. He kissed the side of her head. “I’ll meet you at the hospital. You take care of him.”

  Chapter Eight

  She nodded and watched him walk back toward the viewpoint. Molly moved out of the way, talking with an authority in her words that had the two EMT’s immediately following orders. She climbed to her feet and helped Chrissy into the back of the ambulance after Henry had been loaded. Molly looked over her shoulder when she heard the soft sound of the motorcycle starting up, the black helmet and strong shoulders making her sigh.

  She’d done it again. Walked out on a date because of her career. He wouldn’t be there when she was finished talking to the attending ER physician. She knew it and was glad she’d tucked some money with her ID in the pocket of her jeans. She was used to it by now, but that didn’t mean it stopped the twinge of hurt. She thought maybe he was different. Maybe his outlook, his opinions were strong enough to understand the need she had inside her. Maybe this time it would all be different.

  She’d never felt the hunger or power in a kiss before she kissed him. And she’d never imagined herself on the back of a bike, holding on and enjoying herself. Free.

  “Are you alright, dear?” Chrissy touched her hand softly where it rested against Henry’s wrist.

  Molly nodded hastily, blinked hard to push the stinging away and focused on the monitors about them.

  “I’m fine, just watching the numbers and Henry,” she gazed down at the man now wearing the oxygen mask, his vitals stable and eyes closed. His hand was wrapped with both of Chrissy’s and he looked very content, despite the circumstances.

  “Worried about your husband finding us?”

  “Oh, no…he’s not…we’re not…I…this was our first date,” she managed finally, wondering when she’d lost control of her tongue. It certainly seemed to work alright when Jonathon was kissing her.

  “Really? I would have thought you’d been together awhile the way he watched you. Quite possessive and attentive,” Chrissy tsked with her tongue and smiled at Molly. “You won’t be getting rid of that one, I’m very sure of that. The way he looked at you…I saw those same twinkling eyes when I met my Henry when I was only seventeen.” She looked down at the warm chuckle from the man she spoke about. “He had me in his bed in less than two days and we’ve hardly been apart since then.”

  Molly felt the heat in her cheeks and tried to concentrate on the monitors. The EMT riding with them choked a little and turned to the man driving.

  “Since when did this generation become so prudish?” Chrissy shook her head. “When a man looks at you like that, he has plans that will rarely let you come up for air.” She peered through her glasses at Molly. “He was watching you with such pride in his eyes…” she sighed happily.

  “You’re embarrassing her, Chrissy,” Henry said with a squeeze to her fingers.

  “Pretty little thing like her needs someone strong like him,” Chrissy insisted. “He’ll be at the hospital for you. And when he does, I want to meet him.”

  Jonathon had spoken to the driver quickly and knew where they were going. He’d be there ahead of them, waiting for her. He wasn’t about to let Molly Fielding get away from him. Every fiber inside him shouted for him not to screw this up. The passion he’d felt in her encompassed more than her career, more than what she felt when she was with her patients.

  He wanted that and everything else she’d kept locked inside. Somehow he sensed her own strands of control were just as taut as his and he hoped he was the reason.

  ****

  Molly spoke with the ER physician, striding confidently into the examining bay with Chrissy still holding Henry’s hand. She stepped back once she’d told him all she knew, her gaze on the familiar procedures even while her mind was drifting somewhere else.

  How could she have made it, graduated from med school? Completed all the tasks and tours and twenty-four hours duties and still feel the doubts and insecurities bouncing around inside her like rapid ping pong balls? She sighed thickly.

  Different, compartmented portions of your life, the answer came along with a little shrug. All that went before makes up who you are now, she heard repeated even as she straightened up and tilted her head. The voice. She knew the voice and her chest constricted, her heart thumping, hard.

  She stepped between the curtains draped around the bay and stared. She swallowed, taking a hesitant step forward. She almost lost it. Almost launched herself across the distance when he turned from the main desk and spotted her. He didn’t wait for the woman behind the desk to stop speaking, but shifted immediately and strode to stand until their boots touched.

  “You came for me,” she whispered in awe.

  “I said I would, Molly,” Jonathon had locked his helmet to the bike, his gloves were shoved in his pocket and there had been a very conscious decision behind the actions. And she stood right in front of him, the zipper of her leather jacket down half way and her eyes bright and never leaving his face. He ignored the shaking in his hands and framed her face. “You alright?” She nodded rapidly. “The patient?”

  “Fine,” she whispered with another hard swallow. “Jonathon, I’m sorry…”

  “Molly,” he groaned out her name, his mouth down for th
e softest of touches. “Never be sorry for the gift you have, honey. Never.”

  A simple thing, she thought as he folded her into his arms. Her face was pressed against the contrast of a solid, muscled chest and soft tee shirt that absorbed the idiot tears she didn’t seem able to stop. Her hand rose to sweep over her cheek when he caught it with one of his, lowering it to her side. Then his palm was back, gentle fingers brushing over the line of moisture.

  “I told you I’d meet you here,” he tipped his forehead against hers, kissing the small, perfectly sculpted nose. That was when he noticed the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge and on the rise of her high cheeks. So many details, he thought briefly, their moment interrupted.

  “I’ll be moving Mr. Fontaine to a private room for the night, Dr. Fielding,” the young resident looked from the leather clad woman to the man now holding her. “Excuse me.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Halstead. I’ll just tell them goodbye and go,” Molly stepped back and laced her fingers with his. “They want to meet you, Jonathon. It won’t take long.”

  “Me?” He followed behind her, looking from one to the other inside the bay.

  “Chrissy…Henry…” Molly led him through the soft draping curtains, smiling at the couple cuddled together at the head of the bed. Chrissy stood up slowly, her palm extended while the other remained locked with one of Henry’s hands.

  “Christine Fontaine,” she said warmly, looking him up and down with obvious approval in her gaze.

  “Jonathon Shepherd, Mrs. Fontaine,” he took the thin, slender palm with a careful shake.

  “My husband, Henry,” she waited while the gesture was repeated. “We wanted to thank you for sharing your date with us. I’m not usually one to panic, but seeing Henry fall against the car like that…”

  “I’m sure it was very unnerving,” Jonathon agreed with a nod. “Molly is a doctor. The last thing I’ll ever do is stop her from being herself.”