by J. S. Scott
It was dark and she couldn't see his face. "Are you okay to give me directions?" she asked him softly.
Surprisingly, he answered crisply and clearly, leading her to his home just on the outskirts of the city.
Molly let out an audible sigh as she pulled into Devon’s long, winding driveway. She couldn't see it well, but she could tell that his house was a beautifully renovated Victorian-era home. She loved the charm and the sense of history in these old, beautiful houses.
She parked close to the door and grabbed her purse. She would see Devon safely inside before she headed back to her apartment. He seemed okay...but she was a little concerned about his mental state.
Devon grabbed her hand tightly as he unlocked the door and led her into the charming old home. As he flipped on the lights, she gasped as she surveyed the interior.
It was like stepping back in time - modern met Victorian in a way that was so subtle that it was enchanting. The maroon and gold of the heavy drapes and wallpaper blended in with a more modern leather couch and recliner.
She was surrounded by antiques right down to the grandfather clock and a few side pieces of furniture with ornate legs that were covered with lace valances. Carefully restored hardwood floors were covered with plush carpets in the ornate, Victorian style. The lights were electric, but the fixtures, including the large chandelier, were old style. It was Victorian fussy...yet it was not.
She twirled around in the center of the living room in awe as she asked, "Did you do this yourself?"
"It took me years to restore this old monster, but I finally finished it a year ago."
"You're a genius, Devon," she blurted out before she could stop herself. It was the truth. His eye for detail was incredible.
Devon grasped her shoulders and pulled her down on the couch. His eyes were intense as he held her still, tilting her face to meet his eyes. "Molly, is it true that you aren't marrying Dylan, or am I so intoxicated that I'm imagining it?"
She gave him a puzzled look as she answered, "Why would I marry Dylan? We've always been friends. I set him up with his fiancée-to-be, Lauren. She's another good friend and a fellow nurse at the hospital I work in."
He groaned as he leaned back against the cool leather and closed his eyes. "You went as his date to Mom and Dad's party."
He thought she was Dylan's date? "I wasn't his date. I went with him as a friend because I'm fond of your parents." She hesitated before adding, "If Dylan and I had been dating I never would have...I wouldn't..." she muttered, her face flushing a bright pink.
He opened his eyes and shot her a scorching glance. "Let me devour you on the patio?" he finished with a growl. "Shit! I've tortured myself for six months over the fact that I mauled my brother's date." He stroked her cheek softly as he continued, "I wanted you so badly that I forgot my brother was dating you."
"But...but you were so distant the rest of the night. I thought you regretted what happened." She looked away from him, blinking to keep herself from tearing up just thinking about his rejection.
"I was eaten up with guilt for kissing my brother's woman and enjoying it so much, Molly."
"I've never been his woman. We...we aren't interested in each other that way. We never have been," she answered him honestly.
One moment Molly was looking at his astonished face...and the next, she was pinned beneath his body on the couch. She quivered as Devon whispered, "I've been dreading hearing that you two were getting more serious. I thought I was going to the restaurant tonight to hear about your engagement. Dylan and I haven't talked much in the last few months because he's been so busy. He hasn't told me about Lauren. I tortured myself thinking about you with him and then hated myself for coveting you, wanting you when I thought you were my brother’s."
Oh, God. Oh, God. She had to be strong. The man was drunk. He didn't know what he was saying.
Molly willed herself not to react...but her desire betrayed her. As Devon nuzzled her ear and nibbled his way down her neck, she had to suppress the urge to moan aloud.
"I was so lost that night on the patio, I might have taken you right there if Dylan hadn't interrupted," his sultry, low voice breathed into her ear.
Devon’s mouth covered hers in the same, devastating way as that night at his parents’ party. He kissed her with a hunger that she couldn't ignore and couldn't resist. Her mouth opened to him, letting him take her in a way that left her breathless and starving for more. She gave herself over, lost in the surge of his tongue and the feel of his wandering hands on her body.
Molly wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands trembling as they threaded through his thick, silky hair.
She shivered as his hands cupped her breasts through her light, silky dress and bra. His thumbs zeroed in on her nipples, circling them roughly. They stood at attention for him, begging for his touch.
She whimpered against his mouth as his hand slid under her dress and up her thigh, teasing the flesh above her thigh-high stockings. Ripping her mouth from his she whispered roughly. "No, Devon. This isn't right." Her mouth was saying no, but her hips came up to meet his seeking fingers.
"Just let me touch you, Molly." He slid off the couch to kneel beside it, his hand stroking up her thigh. "Open your legs for me."
His fingers played up and down her slit over the silk of her panties. She blushed, her face pink and flushed, knowing that he could already feel how damp the material was from her arousal. "Devon." She could barely choke out his name as his caress became more demanding. Her legs opened with a will of their own, her body unable to deny him.
He slipped his fingers under the elastic and delved into her tender folds, drenching his digits with her slippery heat. "You're so hot, so soft, so wet. Let me satisfy you, sweetheart."
Molly squirmed as one of his fingers circled her clit slowly, making her lift her hips, needing more contact.
He leaned into her and kissed her senseless, leaving her mindless to anything but his invading tongue in her mouth and his talented fingers making her burn for release. Her needy little sounds vibrated against his lips as he became more aggressive, pushing her need to an urgent level.
She grasped his shoulders, her nails sinking into his thin, cotton dress shirt as he inserted two fingers into her wanting channel, filling her.
Oh, yes. Hell, yes. Her body was nearly in flames and she willed those fingers to start moving, start fucking her. Her body was demanding satisfaction and it wanted it now. Her mind was lost as the commands of her body took control, demanding to be sated.
Devon’s mouth came away from hers and he rested it against her ear. Hot breath fanned her ear and neck as he groaned, "You're so tight, so perfect."
His fingers fucked her in deep, rhythmic strokes as his thumb flicked over her sensitive nub in the same tempo. As he increased the pace and pressure, she cried out his name as her hips rotated, begging for release.
He had made her need to orgasm with an intensity that stunned her, made her forget everything except her driving desire to climax.
"That's it. Let go. I want to watch you come," he panted as his tongue trailed lazily along her sensitive ear lobe and neck.
Molly reached her peak with a volatility that frightened her. "Devon. Oh, God." She didn't recognize her own voice as the tortured, strangled groan erupted from her throat. She threw her head back as her entire body tensed and hard, sharp spasms squeezed around Devon’s thrusting fingers, drenching them with her cream, as she started to tremble in the aftermath of the most incredible orgasm she had ever experienced.
"You are so beautiful." Devon kissed her tenderly as she laid there totally dazed, her emotions close to the surface from the shattering climax.
"Oh, God. This shouldn't have happened." Panic swept over her as she realized just how vulnerable she was. Tears sprang to her eyes and she turned her head away from Devon and struggled to sit up. Closing her legs, she pushed him away from her and pulled her dress over her legs.
"Molly, what's wrong?" He swipe
d at her tears with his thumbs, his voice hoarse and concerned.
"This was a mistake. You're drunk. You don't know what you’re doing."
And I'm going to get hurt. Again.
Molly couldn't screw Devon when he was in a drunken state...no matter how badly she wanted to. His rejection later would devastate her. She felt raw and exposed, her need to escape almost an obsession.
"It wasn't a mistake, baby. It was the beginning of something I've wanted since we met," he crooned, trying to comfort her.
"My feelings were hurt last time, Devon. I shouldn't have repeated the same mistake."
He reached for her hand, dropping a kiss into her palm. "I never meant to hurt you, Molly. It was never because I didn't want you. It happened because I wanted you too much." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I should have talked to you that night instead of trying to do what I thought was the right thing."
She pulled her hand away, shaking her head, lost in fear. "I can't do this. You probably won't even remember this tomorrow. Either that, or you'll regret it."
She made it to the door before he pinned her to the wall with a hand on each side of her, making her a temporary prisoner. His large body crowded her and his burning hot gaze pinned her eyes to his. "I won't forget, sweetheart. I'll be at your house tomorrow, completely sober, so you'll have to find another excuse to try to get rid of me. I'll pursue you to the ends of the earth if necessary. There's no way I'm letting you go now."
Molly was shaking, her mind whirling in confusion and self doubt. "Please...just let it go, Devon. Forget about what just happened. You've been drinking and I got carried away." Her voice was barely audible and she lowered her head to break away from his intense, burning eyes.
One hand cupped her chin, stroking her cheek as he asked her softly, "What are you afraid of, Molly? Why do you want to run away from this?"
She broke away from him with a tortured cry. She was afraid of so many things…but she couldn't explain. She pulled the door open and scurried out of the house, breaking into a run for her car.
"Call me when you get home so that I know you made it there safely," Devon called in a demanding voice as she tumbled into her vehicle.
Molly let the tears flow as she drove to her apartment. She felt emotionally drained and stripped of her defenses.
Devon didn't really want her. He couldn't want a woman like her. She didn't know if it was the alcohol or if it was some cruel game he was playing, but she wanted no part of it. He was a heartbreak just waiting to happen.
She had a message from Devon on her answering service when she got home. He had realized she didn't have his number. He had called Dylan to get hers and reminded her politely to call him when she arrived home.
Molly dialed the number mechanically. When he answered, she ignored the reaction that his sexy rumble had on her senses and muttered that she was home and cut off immediately, leaving him no time to respond.
He’s done his duty, and I’ve done mine. Calling him had let him off the hook. He'd have no further reason to contact her and they could avoid any further awkward communications.
She went to bed, but tossed and turned, her mind and heart at war with each other.
Her mind rejected him while her heart yearned for something altogether different.
He doesn't really want you. You couldn't possibly win the heart of a man like Devon Richards. What more could he possibly want than a brief, drunken interlude with a cow like you?
Her mind won the battle. It was the last thought she had as she drifted into a restless sleep. Strangely enough, it had sounded more like her mother's voice in her head than her own.
*****
Devon woke the next morning with a slight headache and a burning gut, but it was nothing that a few aspirin, some antacid and a brisk shower didn't cure. By the time he was sitting at his kitchen table with his breakfast, he felt nearly normal.
Armed with information that he had strong-armed out of his little brother with threats of bodily damage, he was more than ready to tackle the day...and Molly.
Dylan had spilled his guts once he understood that Devon really liked Molly. Unfortunately, the things that he had told Devon made his skin crawl and he had cursed himself for his clumsy approach to a woman that needed something more than his eager groping.
Damn it. He had pushed her like a horny teenage boy, unable to contain his elation at the fact that she was free. Not only had he been more than slightly drunk, but once he had determined that she wasn't even dating his little brother, he had been overwhelmed by a sense of freedom and happiness that he hadn't thought possible earlier in the evening.
The fact that Molly had self-esteem issues made him crazy. Dylan hadn't held back when he told Devon all of the comments her mother had heartlessly spewed and how she always had made Molly feel like she was less than nothing because she was a full-figured woman.
Devon already felt damn possessive, and the need to protect her and soothe every hurt that had ever been done to her was almost obsessive. He wanted to scoop her up like a caveman and carry her away to some deserted island until he could convince her how fabulous, sexy and desirable she really was.
He was scowling as he finished wolfing down his breakfast and coffee. He tossed his dishes in the dishwasher, determined to get to Molly's apartment before she ran away. There was no way in hell he was letting her run.
How any woman like Molly could feel inferior was beyond him, but he was glad that some smart guy hadn't snapped her up a long time ago.
Devon’s lips curved into a grin as he snagged his keys from the kitchen counter. He planned on being the smart guy who grabbed her now, before someone else did. When he told her that he'd pursue her to the ends of the earth...he had meant it. In all of his thirty-three years of life, he had never wanted any woman in the same way that he longed for Molly.
Dylan had told him last night that he had known that Lauren was the woman for him on their very first date. He had fallen hard and fast for his Lauren. Devon could relate, having felt the same connection with Molly from their first meeting.
She was afraid, but he would break through that fear. Molly was about to realize just what a persistent, stubborn, pain in the ass that he could be when he really wanted something.
His smile widened as he strode determinedly to the door, looking forward to the challenge, never doubting that he could convince her.
He'd push.
She'd push back or run away to avoid getting hurt.
He'd push harder.
He wasn't particularly fond of some of the methods he'd probably have to use to get her attention...but he was a desperate man. He just hoped she didn't call him on any of his bluffs.
His heart was racing as he stepped out into the beautiful, early summer day, more than ready to be the man that Molly needed and deserved.
He refused to accept anything less than her total, fearless surrender.
*****
Molly woke early, even though she had suffered a restless night. She was used to waking at around five a.m. for work and she could rarely sleep any later than seven, even on her off days. She had wanted to squash that damn internal alarm this morning when she awoke early, as usual, and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.
She panted as she stepped off of her treadmill, her body and hair drenched with sweat. Frustration had pushed her an extra mile today, but she feared it still wasn't enough to find peace.
Thoughts of last night still haunted her and she knew that she had acted like a child, running away like a madwoman, bawling like an unhappy baby.
Her reaction to Devon had terrified her and her only thought at that moment had been to escape before she suffered a blow that she couldn't survive.
Learning to curl up inside of herself had been her only means of coping with her mother's disappointment. It was a protective mechanism that she knew was unhealthy...but sometimes...it just reared up instinctively when she got spooked.
Molly let out a long, heartfe
lt sigh as she grabbed a towel and headed for the shower. She was twenty-seven years old and a health care professional who dealt with children. Family dynamics were something she encountered every day. It was strange that she knew that her reactions weren't emotionally healthy because she knew the psychology of defense mechanisms, but applying them to herself was so difficult. Fear was such a strong motivator and she reacted to it with the same old defenses to avoid the pain.
She stripped, dropping her smelly workout clothes into the hamper. She started to step onto the bathroom scale automatically, but she stopped herself. Who said she had to weigh herself every day? She was so tired of being a slave to a hunk of metal and letting it determine her mood for the entire day.
She stepped into the pulsating stream of water, crushing the sense of guilt she felt for not checking her weight.
That’s my mother’s voice, not mine. I do not feel guilty.
Her doorbell was chiming as she left the shower, a persistent knock accompanying the bell.
"Shit!" Molly quickly toweled her body and fumbled for her robe. She hadn't dried very well and the silky, thin material clung to her damp body.
The annoying buzz continued and the knock became a pounding that rattled the door.
She ran a brush over her hair with lightning speed. If she didn't, it would become a tangled mess.
She scurried toward the door, suspecting it was Lauren, who was off today and had mentioned stopping over. "All right. All right. I'm coming."
She flung the door open breathlessly and her eyes grew wide.
Not Lauren. Definitely not Lauren.
Dressed in blue jeans and a polo shirt, Devon Richards was much more imposing than Lauren, and a hell of a lot more dangerous.
"I would have liked to have been here for that." He shot her a sexy grin that made her want to head back for a cold shower.
"For…for what?" Oh, God. Her head was spinning and she could barely speak. What is he doing here?
He pushed past her and closed the door. "You said you were coming. I'm sorry I missed it."
