PROLOGUE

ATLAS

Two months earlier

––––––––

Resting my Tom Ford clad hip against my gray, Italian designed sofa, I watch Molly plonk herself down and pick up the TV remote.

In the middle of my birthday party.

My penthouse is filled with Philadelphia elite and trust fund babies. Molly doesn't care.

She's not one of them.

Perhaps that's why I can't take my eyes off her.

That and she's stoned off her ass and has drunk way too much champagne.

Knox, my older brother, is escorting her best friend, Payton, home. Half a million dollars says it's to his home.

To his bed.

I don't care, but my father could, given Payton works for the agency responsible for the launch of this season's fashion line.

But that's between them.

I should send Molly home with them, but instead I watch as she surfs the channels until she finds The Simpsons and find myself moving around the sofa and sitting down next to her.

Molly grins at me—because she's stoned—and rearranges the cushions like she's lived here all her life. Then she lifts her feet onto my lap.

"Party's over!" I call out.

Molly giggles, and as her leg brushes my cock I place my hand on her thigh to still her. Her playful eyes lock with mine—she knows—and I wish everyone would fuck off.

Now.

The hem of her cocktail dress teases the tips of my fingers. I could slide underneath it, spread her legs, and dive between her thighs.

If we were alone.

"Dude," Billy says, dropping into one of the armchairs. "Love The Simpsons ."

Billy supplied the pot.

Go home Billy.

Gordon, another friend, leans on the wall next to us as the party starts to thin out. Apparently, Marge Simpson ranting at Homer is not a great party sound.

Plus, I told them to go.

And it's almost midnight.

"Catch you next week at squash," Finn says, rustling my hair as he walks past me with his wife on his arm.

"Wednesday," I call out and catch him giving me the thumbs up over his shoulder.

When my eyes drop back down I find Molly watching me. Rich, seductive, and willing lust greets me. I wink and her cheeks turn pink.

God, she's sexy as hell.

"Billy. Gordon. Go home," I say, without glancing away.

"Huh?" I hear Billy ask and ignore them both as Gordon explains the situation.

Thankfully, he can read the room.

Molly's blush deepens but she doesn't glance away. My fingers press into her silky skin as my cock throbs under her thighs.

When I hear the elevator ping a few minutes later, having done a few circles with my fingers, I finally break our gaze.

A quick look over my shoulder and I can see the place is empty.

I'm hard as a rock.

When my eyes return to hers, I don't hesitate.

"Best end to a party ever." I smirk as I climb over her.

Molly reaches and grips the front of my black Prada shirt. "Oops, was that my fault?"

"Completely," I rasp as I slide my fingers through her dark curls and cup the back of her head. Then my mouth drops to hers and the heat of her lips burns me with the power of her need.

Our kiss starts slow, exploring eagerly, then I feel my body drop and press into hers and the hunger grows.

Jesus, she's fucking sexy.

From the moment she walked into my party tonight I wanted to scoop the little brunette up and put her in my pocket.

To fuck later.

She arrived with Payton, who I only invited to torment Knox. He can't have her, and yet appears to have ignored that small detail.

When I took Molly on a tour of my multi-million-dollar penthouse apartment, I put on the charm, but it was her big chocolate-colored eyes and feminine cheekiness that kept me watching her all evening.

She sparkles with life.

Not for a second did she try to fit in with my wealthy friends or pretend to be one of them. Nor did she appear to be intimidated by them. If anything, she seemed amused and entertained.

One thing's for certain, she's comfortable in her own skin and that's sexy as hell.

Although, it could be the pot.

Either way, I found her intriguing and refreshing.

Now she's lying underneath me and we seem to be on the same page about what happens next.

"I want to fuck you," Molly says when I release her mouth.

Thats an affirmative then. Same page.

"Me too." I give her a full blast of my dimples as I admire her long dark lashes that are fluttering with arousal.

Then they stop and she frowns. "You want to fuck you, too?"

What?

"Oh, you want to fuck me ?" She giggles.

"There's no one else here, baby. It's you, or I fuck my own hand."

"Do you do that?" Molly's mouth parts.

Christ.

She's so damn stoned.

Way too stoned.

I can't do this. I shouldn't do this.

I really want Molly. I mean, I could just fuck her and hope like hell she doesn't hate me in the morning. But I'm not one of those billionaires who hooks up with women aware of my bank balance and happy to let me get away with shitty behavior.

I'm Ward Montgomery's son. He raised me and my brothers better than that.

Molly's a girl you respect.

Date.

Like a fucking gentleman.

Don't get me wrong, I want to fuck her right this minute, but I also want to see her when she's sober and not the morning after with regret in her eyes.

I want to talk to her.

Find out who she is.

See if we have anything in common...and then fuck like rabbits.

However, right now she's looking for an answer to her question about whether I wank.

Way too stoned.

"Yes. All guys do. If they say they don't, they're lying." I sit back and slide my hand under her skirt. Her legs fall open making it really hard for me to be the gentleman I want to be.

Maybe we don't need to date...

"Touch me." Molly whimpers and arches her hips up to my touch.

Goddamn it.

I'm not that strong.

I find her lacy panties and tug them to the side, gliding my fingers between her wet flesh.

Fucking hell.

She's so wet it fills the room with slick sounds and my cock jolts in my pants.

Fuck dinner.

I just need one little taste.

"Jesus, Molly." I move fast, pushing her knees open wider and slam my mouth down on her pussy.

"Oh shit," she cries out.

My tongue circles through her folds, drinking her in, and sucking on her hard clit. She's swollen and I swear I can feel her throbbing against my lips.

"Atlas," Molly cries, her hands clenching my hair.

"You like your pussy being eaten?" I rasp.

"Yes, yes." She writhes beneath me. "Eat me all up."

I chuckle against her core, then plunge my tongue in as my palms hold her open to me like Mollys my own personal slice of watermelon.

She's just as sweet.

"Oh, god." Her hips fight my hold as she slips over the edge. But I don't let go as she orgasms on my face, and I drink all of her sweet juices down.

"Good girl." I wipe my mouth on the inside of her thigh then climb over her.

Molly grips my face with both hands and announces with the same shock and delight as if I just cured cancer. "That was amazing."

I grin.

"I shouldn't have done that."

Her face falls.

Shit.

"I mean. I should have..."

She scrambles out from under me like a slippery eel.

"Molly!"

She shakes her head and digs around on the ground for her shoes. "I get it. No, it's fine. I get it."

"Molly wait." I climb off the sofa and find one of her shoes.

She found her purse, and I watch as she pats down her wild dark curls. Then she closes the gap, snaps the shoe out my hand and waves it in the air, almost whacking me in the head.

"Stop. You're stoned." I say more firmly.

"Correct. You're observant," she says, walking to the elevator.

I follow.

She spins and points at me with the shoe weapon.

"And good with your mouth. So, um. Thank you. For the...service. Anyway."

For the service?

Is she joking right now?

What is wrong with her? Drugs aside.

"Crap. I need to pee." Molly drops everything on the floor, including the mobile phone she was tapping on, and disappears back inside my apartment.

I stand staring at the wall.

Thank you for the service?

Fuck that, this isn't over.

I stopped so I could see her tomorrow or the next day. Not piss her off. I'm so damn confused right now, but I write it off to being intoxicated and make a quick decision.

I crouch and take her phone, dialing mine, then gather up her belongings. I ring my driver and ask him to meet us downstairs.

"Ricky, make sure Ms. Carter gets home safely."

"Yes sir," he replies. "Need anything else after?"

"No. Enjoy your weekend." I tell him.

I use my own vehicle on the weekends. Otherwise, the Lamborghini never gets a good blast.

A moment later, I hear Molly behind me.

"Hey," I start but when I turn, she won't look at me.

Instead, she grabs the items out of my hand and tucks her purse under her arm.

"Happy birthday," she mutters and presses the button on the wall. "And listen, this never happened."

The fuck it didn't.

"Yes it did." I state, sliding my hands into my Verity & Co. pants.

She ignores me.

"It did happen," I rasp.

Molly steps into the elevator and presses the button.

"I'll call you tomorrow."

When her eyes lift to mine, they're not the playful globes I kept stealing glances with all night and I am so confused about where I went wrong.

The doors start to close as Molly shakes her head.

"Don't."