“Wait a minute, whiskey? You want to get her drunk. No, way!”
I roll my eyes and pour two fingers worth of whiskey in two glasses. “Of course, I don’t want to get her drunk. Jesus. I’m not pouring the bottle down her throat. I’m dipping my finger in here,” I say as I lift the glass to show her. “And I’m going to rub it against her gums. It helps with teething and she will get a little sleep. It won’t hurt her. I’m a doctor remember?”
“I don’t know.” She rubs her fingers over her eyes in exhaustion.
“Brandon would agree with me.” I hand her the scotch glass and wait for her to take it. Her fingers run through her hair and stares at me like I have some evil plan up my sleeve. “He would. I’m not just saying that.”
She wipes a stray tear and finally reach for the glass, wrapping her soft, delicate fingers around the crystal. My fingers linger for a few seconds too long, letting them tangle around each other as I slowly pull them away.
“Okay,” she responds, and she knocks the two fingers worth of whiskey back in one swallow.
“Damn, alright then. Let’s save some for Posie.” I shoot her a wink, but she doesn’t seem to be in a playful kind of mood. “I didn’t mean anything by that. It was a joke.” I dip my pinky in liquid and shove it between Posie’s lips. She suckles on it like a bottle, and I crook my finger over her gums. “That should do it.” I pick her up and set her in her playpen that is in front of the French doors. She has the best view in the house of the lake. “In a few minutes she should start settling down and be asleep.”
“Thank you.” Her voice low and raspy, laced with sleep and worry.
I swish the whiskey in the glass and sit down next to Molly on the couch. “It’s okay, you know. It’s okay to be freaked out. This isn’t meant to be easy. None of this is easy.”
“I know. I know. I’m just tired.”
We sit there, next to each other, in silence. It isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. At least, I don’t think it is, but I’ve been a man of many wrongs before. A movement out of the corner of my eye has me turning to her. She starts to rub the left side of her neck, stretching and groaning like she is in pain.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just have a crick in my neck.”
I set my drink on the coffee table and situate my body toward her. “Come here. I’ll rub your shoulders. I’ve been told I give a mean shoulder massage.”
She stares at me a little apprehensively, with a hint of want in her sparkling brown eyes. “I don’t know...”
“Alright, your loss.” I reach for my drink again and cross my ankles over one another, getting comfortable.
Her legs bounce with anxiety and she bites her thumbnail, stealing a glance at me every few seconds. “Okay, but if it hurts, you have to let off, okay?”
“Like I’d ever want to cause you pain.”
She averts her eyes away from me as she moves her hair over her shoulder. Her cheeks blush again like she is innocent. The red hue acts like a veil draping down her neck. I want to know if it feels as warm under my lips as it looks. She tests my control when she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, worrying the perfect pink cloud with her teeth. “Okay, do your worst.” She turns around to show me her back.
I’ll always want to do my best.
I swallow the drink in my mouth and reposition my legs, letting her get settled between my thighs. I let out a tortured, slow breath as her ass fills the space. Our clothes are the only thing keeping us from enjoying each other’s bodies.
My cock leaks in my gym shorts as my hand drifts up her arm. Her skin reacts to my touch, and her hair stands on its ends as my fingers run through the sparse blonde strands. Once I get to her shoulder, I bend forward to kiss her flesh, but I catch myself and blow out a breath instead.
I close my eyes, trying to control the roaring lust that is full force in my cock. I grab the golden reins of her hair, pooling it over the right side of her shoulder. So pretty. My fingers trace circles on her skin before I knead the hard, knotted muscle.
“You’re tight, Molls.” Fuck, I bet she is.
Chapter Eighteen
Molly
Caden Jackson is massaging my shoulders. My nipples are as hard as rocks, and my skin seems to be permanently beaded. It is like static electricity created a bubble around us. I never felt anything like this before. My heart rams against my chest like an angry bull, dying to get out and just leap into his hands.
But I know he will destroy my heart, letting it drip all my life force over his hands and on to the floor, leaving me for dust.
Instead of relaxing, I only feel more stressed, especially when he says something about me being tight. Just the word tight falling from his mouth promises filth. I yank myself out of his grip and stand as I trip over my own two feet.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. I…um…I need to go. This for thanks.” I shut my eyes and exhale, hating myself for stuttering over my words. “I mean... Thanks for this. It was fun.”
Fun? Get your shit together.
“If this is what you consider fun, we need to get you out more.”
I smile, wrapping my arms around myself and really wanting to change my wet panties. “Yeah. You sound like Brandon.” And then I stand straighter, listening to the silence around us. “Caden, it’s quiet.”
“Yeah, so?”
“It’s quiet,” I repeat, running over to the playpen to see Posie fast asleep. I lay my hand on her chest to make sure she is still breathing, feeling for her little heartbeat. “Oh, thank god.”
Caden’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Told you she’d be fine.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Molly,” he says, and his deep voice vibrates in my bones.
I turn, causing us to be less than an inch away from each other. He smells good. So good. My eyes flutter from the scent. The T-shirt stretches over his sculpted, wide chest. I see the curve of muscle through the material clinging to a body that is slightly too big for it. Every part of him is overwhelming. “I…I need to go.” I slink out from his hold and run to my room, careful not to slam the door.
I feel like a teenager all over again.
He knocks on the door. “Molly.”
I don’t answer.
“Molly? Let’s talk about this. Come on.”
I stay silent.
He sighs behind the door and curses. “Listen, I need to get to the hospital. We can talk about it later, okay?”
No way.
“You need to watch Posie. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Just be open to talking later.”
Hell no.
The shadow behind the door moves farther away, and then the front door closes a few minutes later. His Range Rover roars to life, and when I know he is gone, I run out of my bedroom and check on Posie.
“Oh, little one. What am I going to do with him, huh? I don’t even know what to do with myself around him anymore, Posie. What do you think?” It is like talking to a wall since she is still passed out. I’m not able to hear her cute gurgle answers. “Maybe Kenna can help, huh?” I think about that for a split second longer. “Uh, no. That’s a bad idea because she would be all for it. And I don’t know what I’m up for.” I glance around the house and see a few boxes that still need to be unpacked. “Maybe I’ll clean up, and it will get my mind off your maddening, sexy Uncle Caden. Don’t tell him I said that.”
Nothing but little baby coos answer me. “Good talk, Posie.”
A half hour later, the kitchen is officially unpacked, and Little Miss Sleepyhead is still snoozing soundly. I pour a glass of wine and keep my bedroom door open to make sure I can hear Posie if she starts to cry. “Alright, Molly. It isn’t going to unpack itself.” I set my wine glass down on my dresser and get to work. My knee hits the dark red chair I had placed in the corner, and an envelope tumbles onto the floor.
My brows knit together. I have no idea what that can be. I grab my wine glass and sit on the floor, turning the envelope over t
o see Maddy Molls written on the front. “Brandon...” I let out a shaky breath, running my fingers over the perfect, capital letters he liked to write in. The wine is a cheap Moscato, but I can’t taste the sweetness or the flavor. It flows like water. Tasteless.
Tears brim my eyes, and I glance up at the ceiling, trying to blink them away, but they pour down my face like a waterfall. I can’t do this. I’m not ready for this.
But I need him right now. Everything is so messy. I need to hear his voice, or, if anything, to at least to feel it. I sip the wine, hoping it'll give me the courage to open it. I stare at the letters written in dark blue ink. This is one of the last things he ever wrote.
“Okay. Here we go.” I take a deep breath, and with precision, the mouth of the envelope rips open, but I make sure not to tear too much. I want to preserve it. The envelope is heavier than I thought. And when I open the paper, another letter addressed to Posie falls out. I almost decide to quit, fold it all up, and put it away, so I never have to see it again.
This time, I chug my wine, set the glass down with a hard clunk, wipe my eyes, and start reading.
Maddy Molly,
I hate to know that you are reading this because that means Amelia and I have died. I never thought I’d ever have to write something like this. It isn’t something that people think of doing, but when Posie came into the world, I knew that I had to take care of her in every way possible. I’ve made sure you and her are taken care of, so I don’t want you to worry. I’d never leave you to worry.
And I’m sorry I’m not there, but I’m also relieved because I won’t be able to hear your wrath about Caden. Man, to be a fly on the wall of that lawyer's office when he told you guys you had to live together for Posie. I know you think it was out of this world and insane, but it wasn’t, Molls. You and Caden have something. You can deny it all you want, and that's probably what you’ll do the entire time you’ll be living together. When you and him are together, you clash. Hard. It’s almost comical to watch you guys dance around each other.
Do me a favor, Maddy Molls. Will you just stop dancing for a minute? I just want you to be happy. Why won’t you ever let yourself be? It drives me crazy. Even writing this, I’m getting mad at you for always denying yourself a brief moment of happiness.
I miss you. I’m not gone yet, but I know when I am, I’ll miss you. I’ll miss all that fire in your blood that could burn down a damn city, but I’d really love it if you used it on yourself for once. I want Posie to have a family. I want her to have what we couldn’t give her. She deserves it.
You’re in charge of her now. You aren’t allowed to be selfish anymore. You have to think of her, and that is exactly what I did when I made you and Caden live together. Life is too short to deny any form of happiness.
You’ll forgive me eventually. Let yourself go a bit, okay? Take care of my girl. I love you, Molly.
Stop being so mad all the time,
B.
I clutch the paper to my chest like it is a direct line to him, and I wail. I cry so hard; I can hardly breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. The tears blind me. The pain wrenches out of me, flowing like a murderous, painful rage—loud and unforgiving.
“Brandon,” I say. My voice trembles with sobs.
It hurts so bad. It will always hurt so bad.
“Molly? Molly! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
I lift my teary gaze from the floor to see Caden. He kneels next to me, putting his hand on my back and rubbing it in soothing circles. My voice won’t work. I can’t seem to make any noise or form my lips into any shape, except for the sounds of heartache.
“What is it, Molly? You’re killing me here. How can I help?”
I stare up at him through wet lashes and lay my head against his arm, holding the letter to my heart, like a blanket, and hoping it will provide me warmth.
“It’s okay. Come here,” he says as he sits down and straightens out his legs.
I lay down on the floor and put my head in his lap as I cry, soaking his jeans with my tears. It doesn’t feel wrong or bad. I don’t feel ashamed as I cry. I actually feel…comforted.
He runs his fingers through my hair for the next few minutes, and it calms me. I inhale my first breath after the sobs pass, but I still cry, never letting go of the letter.
“I don’t know what is going on, but I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”
I slide my hand over his thigh, gripping it as memories of Brandon filter through my mind.
He sighs, but he never stops playing with my hair. “Well, I got called into work, but when I was halfway there, they called me back and said they had it taken care of. They gave me the next few days off, so maybe we can all go out and do something. I don’t know... maybe check out our new town and see what it has to offer?”
“Sounds nice,” I force out of my tear-saturated throat.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
Caden playing with my hair is making me sleepy, but I fight it. I don’t want to sleep yet. “Brandon wrote me a letter.”
“Is that what all these tears are for?” he asks softly.
“Yeah. I forgot how well he knew me. No one knew me like him. Kenna does, but no one else. He is right. I never allow myself to let anyone close to me. Ever. I’m sorry if I am such a bitch to you. It just comes naturally.” I start to cry again, letting my emotions get the best of me.
“Hey, hey.” He picks me up and settles me on his lap. He brushes the hair out of my face. “You aren’t a bitch. Don’t ever call yourself that again, okay? Don’t do that. And you know what? I haven’t been the greatest to you, either, but I never thought that of you, Molly. And neither did Brandon.” He holds my face against his chest, making me feel safe.
We stay like that for a bit. I hear his heart pounding against my cheek—strong and steady, like a good song. He is warm, making the cold emotion in my body disappear. The letter falls onto the floor, and I thought the letter would be my safety blanket. I thought that would be my new comfort, but sitting in Caden’s lap, feeling his fingers play in my hair, hearing the rumble of his voice in his chest, and letting the kindness of his words bring me peace makes me think otherwise.
“Thank you,” I sigh, trying to get the weight off my chest. “I appreciate that.”
“It’s not a problem.”
I lift my head from his chest, and our eyes meet. Our lips are a breath away from each other. His gaze drops to my lips. His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip. Hot puffs of breath filter into my mouth, seeping into my cells and flow through my veins.
Unlike mine, his eyes have green specs. When the light hits them, they remind me of a kaleidoscope as the specs change and morph into different shades of brown and emerald. Caden truly is a breathtaking specimen.
He inches forward, holding my jaw and neck with his hand. He rubs my lip with his thumb. “You know what these lips have been doing to me?” he growls.
My body gravitates toward him like a magnet. “No.”
“They make it difficult to concentrate.”
“Why?” I whisper, love drunk.
“Because you’re attached to them. They tempt me like you tempt me. I love your fire and your attitude. It turns me on as much as it pisses me off.” His fingers trace my jaw as they move to my chin. “You’re a beautiful woman, Molly. You always have been, but you test me. Every damn day, you test me.”
I decide to try something I have never done before. I slide my leg over his, switch my position, and straddle him. I swallow when his very hard erection presses between my thighs. “Do you pass these tests?”
“Not even a little bit. I fail at it every day.”
We don't move. And I wonder if he is thinking the same thing I am—if this is one big mistake. I see the question in his eyes. The want. The battle. I know it so well because I know mine shine the same. Do I give in?
Do we say the hell with everything and give into temptation?
I want to. I want him, but everything B
randon said in his letter scares the living hell out of me. I don’t know how to go after what I want, and I want Caden with every cell in my core.
But who will give in first?
Chapter Nineteen
Caden
It has been a week since holding Molly in her room as she cried. I was one second away from kissing her lips. Right as I closed the distance—I mean, I felt the surface of her mouth tickling mine—Posie let out a loud cry, ruining the moment that we had built. But that is parent life, right? It is something we have to get used to, and I am up for the challenge, but Miss Molly has a tendency to ignore me when things between us get heated.
So I’m done playing games now. I am done with us pretending that whatever this thing is between us wasn’t there. My body is tired of depriving itself of its needs, and I need her. She was meant to be mine for all these years, and we have a lot of lost time to make up for.
One way to get her attention?
My body.
I roll out of bed, sit on the edge of the mattress, and stretch. I chuckle from my plan. I have no idea if it will work. She is the most stubborn woman in the world, and she'd rather fight me than cave into her most carnal desires—which is me. I am that desire.
The smell of bacon and eggs wafts through the air and my stomach grumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. I glance down, wondering if I should stay in my boxer briefs. Just how crazy do I want to drive her? To the edge of fucking insanity.
I get up and brush my teeth before heading down the steps. “Smells good in here.” I slap my stomach, and the sound of it makes her jump. She peeks at me from under her lashes, and a blush tints her cheeks. I want to know if it took up any other parts of her body. Her breasts? I’ll lick them. Her ass? I’ll kiss it. Her pussy? I’ll eat it. Just as long as I get to taste that red hue.
“Um, breakfast will be ready in a minute.”
I hardly hear her over the sound of sizzling bacon on the stove, but since I can’t seem to take my eyes away from her lips, I read them. I scratch my stomach, snapping the band of my underwear just for kicks and giggles, because why not? The coffee beacons me, like her body does underneath the oversized shirt that goes down to her knees—probably her brother’s. Unless there is another man in the house that I don’t know about.
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