Reeling in Love

by Gloria Herrmann

  With Molly’s new mantra tattooed on her brain—‘just go with it’—she said, “She never really was much of drinker, but as long as she brings snacks, it’s totally cool. But I get to pick the movie.”

  Mackenzie laughed. So did Tiffany. The heaviness of the situation was forgotten, even if for just a brief moment.

  Chapter Eight

  Molly ran her fingers along her lips. They were numb. Owen sat back with a smug and satisfied expression locked onto his face.

  Molly had made the enormous mistake of trying to convince Owen that she was the better kisser. He had proved her wrong. Damn him.

  “I told you I was better.”

  Molly glared at him. He thought he’d won. She still had a few tricks up her sleeve. They were cuddling on a small love seat in her studio. The lighting was dim and the nearby city lights tried sneaking in through the large windows. Molly had to think for a moment, which was difficult. Her body was not quite satisfied with just kissing. Desire spread like a raging wildfire, quick and fast, burning hot as it teased Molly. Lust pooled in her belly and it clenched with need. She hoped that Owen was suffering like she was. It would only be fair.

  The love seat, as contemporary and chic as it was, was proving to be a bit small. That could turn out badly. In her mind, Molly saw herself slithering over him, straddling his lap, hopefully feeling his hardness pressing against her then showing him who was truly the better kisser—and maybe getting more than a kiss. Much more.

  But when she tried her maneuver, she wound up on the floor. It didn’t really surprise her. This was her, after all.

  “Oh my God, Molly, are you okay?” Owen quickly jumped up.

  Molly was laughing hard. Of course she’d fallen, because she was anything but graceful. She was a clumsy goofball who really had no business attempting to be sexy, even when she felt sexy. It had seemed like a fairly rock-solid plan in her head that unfortunately hadn’t quite translated when she’d attempted it. And it sure had been a mood killer.

  “Molly, seriously, are you okay?” Owen asked again as he hovered over her.

  “Yes,” Molly was finally able to answer between the hysterical laughs escaping her.

  Owen lowered himself next to her on the floor. The look he gave her was not what she expected. It was smoldering, quiet and twisted with concern. It made her nervous for a moment. Those pesky butterflies were tangled inside her.

  “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” His fingers began to play in her hair that was fanned out on floor.

  Molly looked up at him. “Um, I think you have mistaken me for someone else. I’m a complete klutz.”

  He had his mouth on hers in mere seconds. He roamed his hands over her body and she desperately wanted to feel him against her. She tasted the lust in his kiss, the hunger. Her body quaked with sudden need for him—a need she’d known she had, but the depth of it now shocked her.

  “God, I want you, Owen,” Molly whispered in his ear as he broke the kiss then trailed his lips to her neck. She wove her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to her, instinctively spreading her legs to invite him there. She cursed the jeans she’d opted to wear. A skirt would have gotten her where she wanted to go a whole lot faster. She ground against him and moaned as he returned the motion, letting her feel his hardness. God, he’s huge. She writhed wildly, grasping and rubbing, wanting more contact. This dry humping was not cutting it. She needed to feel him inside her.

  “Please,” she whimpered, as the need between her legs grew heavy.

  He shifted his weight and returned his mouth to hers, hushing her. Molly flicked her tongue against his and nipped at his bottom lip, praying that it would send him over the edge. They continued the teasing dance with their tongues dueling, deep and wet, hot and needy. Her whole body was tingling and demanding to be touched. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples taut. She felt like she was going to die if they kept this up. She wanted more. She wanted release. She wanted to come—with Owen.

  “For Pete’s sake, Owen, you’re killing me.”

  Owen pulled away briefly. “I told you I was a better kisser.”

  “Okay, you win. Can we please…?” Molly whined as she reached down to the waist of his pants.

  “Nope.”

  Her hand stilled. “What the hell? Are you kidding me?”

  Owen answered with a sly smile. “Not here and not like this.”

  “Ugh, I hate you right now.” Molly shoved Owen off her. She was trembling with need and had just let him know how much she wanted him. She could tell how much he wanted her. She could see the tenting in his jeans. How can he do this to me? Why is he doing this to us?

  “Trust me. I will make it up to you,” he offered as he got up from the floor and reached to help her up.

  Molly swatted his hand away. “Might as well leave me here. I’m all hot and bothered. At least the floor is cold.”

  “Yeah—and hard. We aren’t kids anymore,” Owen joked. “I’m more about making love in a bed at this stage in my life.”

  “Where’s the spontaneity in that?” Molly threw her arms up. Owen seized the opportunity and forced her off the floor.

  “Are you always this cranky when you’re horny?”

  “No, just when someone won’t comply,” Molly replied hastily, taking deep breaths to lower the lust that still clawed at her belly.

  Owen tugged her to him and kissed her gently on her forehead. “I didn’t even realize I was that good a kisser.”

  Molly stuck out her tongue at him. He is, and I need a cold, cold shower.

  * * * *

  “Can you pour me some more?” Tiffany asked, lifting her glass in the air as Molly held the nearly empty bottle of Moscato.

  “Mac?” Molly shook the bottle in her direction.

  “Yes, please,” she answered.

  It had been a long day, but they were all seated around Mackenzie’s kitchen table. Her sister’s ashes were in a small wooden box on the chair next to her. Friendship Friday was back—all of them lounging around in comfy pajamas, no makeup and lots of wine.

  They had kept their snack choice simple for the night. There was a platter with a variety of cheeses, crackers and fruit, and it all went great with the wine.

  Nibbling on a cracker, Tiffany sighed with a deep contentment.

  “What was that for?” Molly smiled when she took her seat next to Tiffany.

  “Nothing. Just glad that we’re all here tonight.”

  “Me too,” Molly added before she sipped from her wine glass and looked over to Mackenzie, who wore a thoughtful expression.

  “It’s funny how horrible stuff can bring people back together, isn’t it?” Mackenzie said as she grabbed a square slice of cheddar cheese and popped it into her mouth.

  Tiffany shifted nervously in her seat. They’d never discussed the fight. It had been swept away, but they all knew it was hanging around.

  Mackenzie continued to speak after she sipped her wine. “I mean, if my sister hadn’t gotten into that wreck and died, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here with you guys.”

  Tiffany looked down. Her shoulders dropped and Molly knew it had to hurt. That was a low blow and Molly decided to quickly squash this before it got out of hand.

  “No, you’re wrong, Mackenzie. We would be, because eventually you and Tiffany would have gotten over that stupid bullshit fight and realized how important your friendship is.” Molly paused, letting the words sink in before she started again. “It’s terrible that it took your sister’s death to realize that you needed your friends there with you. You asked for her to come to the hospital with me, Mackenzie. You needed Tiffany.”

  Tiffany didn’t speak and Mackenzie looked a little taken aback. Too bad, it needed to be said.

  Mackenzie inhaled deeply, her eyes trained on the ceiling. “I guess you’re right.”

  Tiffany rose from her seat and went to Mackenzie, wrapping her arms tightly around her. “I’m sorry for being an asshole.”


  “Me, too,” Mackenzie responded, letting her head rest on Tiffany’s arms.

  “Should I grab my camera and snap this little Hallmark moment?” Molly asked, then put her drink to her lips.

  “Oh, you shut it. So tell us what’s new with you and Owen?” Mackenzie tossed Molly a playful, annoyed look.

  She had to think about that for a moment. What was new? Oh yeah, that she was beyond sexually frustrated. That she was pretty much convinced that Owen was trying to see how far he could push her until she snapped and finally tied him to her bed.

  “Um, things are good, I guess,” Molly answered.

  Mackenzie eyed her suspiciously. “Hmm…”

  Tiffany came right out with it. “What Mac is trying to ask is, have you guys boned yet?” There was no beating around the bush with her, brash and direct was always Tiffany’s approach.

  “No, we haven’t,” Molly confirmed.

  “Well, that explains why she’s so cranky.” Tiffany turned to Mackenzie, who nodded in agreement.

  “Like either of you should talk. I don’t see either of you guys getting laid,” Molly shot back.

  “She does have a point there,” Mackenzie agreed.

  “So we know that you aren’t screwing his brains out. Sorry. But are things getting more serious?” Tiffany asked as she swirled the wine in her glass. “This is really delicious, by the way.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Mackenzie swallowed a large gulp.

  Molly rolled her eyes. “I don’t know that we are getting serious. You guys know that I’m terrible at relationships.”

  “Well, do you like the direction that you guys are going?” Mackenzie shrugged.

  “No, Molly, you need to be asking yourself if you find yourself in knots and full of butterflies when he is around,” Tiffany said.

  It didn’t take her long to really consider that. Hell, she even got butterflies when he wasn’t around. The very thought of Owen caused an uproar inside her. She and her vibrator had worked that out at bedtime on more than one occasion. Her body acted funny when he was around. She was in a constant state of heat and lust at the mere sight of him. It was like she didn’t even know herself anymore.

  Tiffany gave her a long look. Mackenzie stared at her too.

  “I think she’s into him,” Mackenzie proclaimed.

  “No doubt. She’s smitten,” Tiffany added.

  God, smitten? Really? That was definitely not a term she’d use. Molly countered, “I don’t know if I’d say that.”

  “You should, because you are.” Tiffany raised her wine glass. “If the shoe fits, lace that bitch up.”

  Molly wasn’t the only one rolling her eyes again, but this time it was with laughter.

  * * * *

  Her studio was almost too bright that morning, the sun’s rays filtering through the large windows, spilling onto the floor and walls. It was the weekend and she shouldn’t even be there, but she needed to catch up. After the emotionally exhausting week she’d endured, Molly also felt some much-needed peace being in her favorite place.

  She had accomplished a great deal and had actually surprised herself, organizing her schedule for various shoots, tinkering with a few edits and even paying a couple of bills. Now, as the late afternoon sun dipped lower, casting shadows in her studio, she knew she should probably call it a day. Shutting down her computer, she heard her buzzer sound loudly, and she was curious who might be paying her a visit, especially on the weekend. Maybe it was her besties popping in to say hello. She knew that Mackenzie and Tiffany were out shopping, engaging in some cathartic retail therapy, but Molly had been happy to decline. Shopping had never really been her thing. It was definitely more of a sport that Mackenzie and Tiffany were well-trained for and loved.

  Slightly jogging, Molly reached the door to greet her visitor. Pulling it back revealed Owen, standing there with an enormous grin on his sexy face, and, of course, holding two coffees.

  “Oh, I love you. I love you,” Molly squealed.

  “Really? Now that’s a greeting a man likes to hear.” Owen bent down to kiss her, but Molly bobbed out of the way, snatching a coffee from him.

  “I was talking to this,” Molly said as she raised the large paper cup. “But you’re not so bad, either.” She lifted up on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek, his stubble grazing her lips.

  “That’s what I figured.” Owen laughed as he walked inside the studio with Molly, linking their arms together. “Have you been working all day? I tried texting you a little bit ago.”

  “I stayed off my phone. I had so much crap to catch up on that I didn’t need any distractions,” she explained before she took a sip, relishing the delicious flavor of the coffee as it entered her mouth.

  “What about now? You up for a little distraction?” His eyes looked like coals ashed over, burning with a hint of untamed desire. She swallowed hard.

  “I might be. What did you have in mind?” Molly leaned into him. She could smell his spicy aftershave and inhaled deeply, loving the aroma of the cologne and Owen.

  He kissed her on top of her head and said, “That’s a loaded question there, miss. I could tell you all the ways I’d love to distract you, but I have a feeling just grabbing some dinner and a movie might be more what you had in mind.”

  “Well, I am starving and a movie does sound like fun. What about a distracting dessert?” Molly couldn’t resist teasing him, but she was punishing herself equally.

  “You know, we could always order in and rent a movie?” Owen winked at her. His sly, lopsided smirk created a sudden heat in her belly and a dampness was suddenly forming in her jeans. He moved his hands down to her hips, grasping them as he pulled her closer.

  This cat and mouse chase had been fun, but Molly was more than ready to take it to the next level. Her body shouted, ‘Hell, yes!’ But her brain was a little more hesitant, and so was her heart. Of course she was attracted to him. Every single moment spent near him had her in a melted pool of need. That was the only way to explain it.

  She wanted him, terribly. But, she also had to take things a little slow, to make sure that she didn’t screw anything up by diving in head first and rushing all the fun bits. Even though she’d been angry when he’d stopped her attempted seduction before, she was glad it had happened. What happens when the mystery is gone? Do those wonderful butterflies in my belly manage to escape? Molly was scared to find out, so as much as she would love to get tangled up in the sheets with Owen—like yesterday—she wanted to proceed with caution.

  Now, she wasn’t so sure Owen was on the same page about that. Apparently, Owen hadn’t gotten the memo, especially when he was too busy leaving a moist trail of kisses down her neck to her collarbone. Molly moaned. The heat began forming deep inside her. Is this another one of those moments when I should ‘just go with it’?

  * * * *

  Owen had made that decision for her. They were now seated at a lively Mexican food place, gorging themselves on an insane number of tacos. Mariachi music played at just the right volume. They were each working on another beer and Molly couldn’t keep out of the chips and salsa.

  “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?” Owen was gazing at her from across the booth.

  Molly felt salsa dribble on her chin. Yeah, real beautiful. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed the cilantro-infused mix off herself.

  “I think it’s the taco coma you are about to go into. It’s got you hallucinating.”

  “You can’t take a compliment, can you? I find it to be the strangest thing, coming from someone who captures beauty all time,” he explained as he added fire-roasted hot sauce to another hard-shell taco.

  “Oh, please. Why do you think I’m behind the lens, hmm?”

  Owen shook his head as he took a large bite. Shreds of lettuce, cheese and meat escaped onto his plate. He chewed and looked reflective as he ate. “You’re wrong,” he finally said.

  “Um, no, I’m not.”

  “Yeah, you are. You are so blind when it
comes to you.”

  “No, I own mirrors, Owen, and trust me, I’m not a model.” Molly reached for her beer, feeling herself grow agitated and hoping that the cool drink would settle her down before things got out of hand.

  “Well, that’s the problem right there,” he said matter-of-factly, then he took another bite out, spilling out even more of the contents along with sharp shards of corn tortilla shell onto his plate.

  Molly cocked her head to the side, wanting him to explain just what the hell he meant. “What’s the problem?”

  “You.”

  “More specifically, Owen.”

  “That you work with these models and it gives you this unrealistic interpretation of what beauty should be.” He paused and looked hard at her, holding his stare with hers. “You aren’t a model, Molly.”

  “Well, thanks for pointing that out.”

  “You’re not listening.”

  “Yes, I am. You think I live in this shallow world where beauty is defined in a way that you don’t agree with.”

  He frowned then replied, “I suppose, but you’re missing the point I’m trying to make.”

  “I don’t believe I am,” Molly countered, signaling the waitress for another beer.

  “You are. Why are you so quick to assume the worst?”

  Great, here comes another argument that develops literally out of nothing. Molly exhaled and shot a warning to Owen. “Look, mister. Don’t ruin this lovely dinner by starting a fight.”

  “Babe, I’m not the one fighting.” He raised his eyebrows at her then winked.

  Seriously? A wink. Now Molly felt her blood pressure rising a tad. She just couldn’t help it. Owen had a way of turning her on in an instant and pissing her off just as quickly.