Chapter 29

Hours later,after leaving things unfinished with Molly, I’m downstairs on the couch in the basement, watching an old boxing match with the volume down low.

Our conversation keeps replaying over and over. The car, I understand why she’s upset, probably still embarrassed. I hope what I said soothed those concerns for her.

But the text? Based on the response she sent, I figured whatever had been sent to Molly had been a childish “he’s mine” text. Not a jab at something more personal. For months, Molly’s been thinking that not only did I sleep with another woman, but I trashed-talked her while I was doing it. No wonder she’s been so uneasy around me.

Thank fuck she finally told me about it.I hope to hell she believed me. That has to be the final thing holding her back, right?

Something creaks above me. I cock my head and mute the television. Is that the back door opening?

Ten to one says it’s not an intruder, but I ease off the couch anyway. Can’t take any chances with Molly in the house.

I take the stairs two at a time and push the basement door open. The kitchen’s empty and dark. My eyes take a second to adjust.

As I expected, the back door’s ajar.

A small shadow sits on the back steps. Faint moonlight illuminates her shoulders and hair tied back in a low ponytail. Molly. What the hell’s she doing out there in the dark?

Don’t spook her.

I twist the screen doorknob slowly, but still make some noise, so I don’t startle her, and step outside. The cool night air hits me in the face. Way too cold for her to be out here. She’s on the second step, knees drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her legs. The wooden planks of the porch are rough against the bottoms of my feet as I shuffle closer to her.

I’m done restraining myself. Finished with keeping my hands off of her.

I step down, bracketing her hips with my feet and lower myself to the top step, then wrap as much of my body as possible around her.

“Aren’t you cold, baby?” I ask.

She hugs herself tighter, not really accepting my embrace, but not pushing me away either. A soft sigh eases out of her, and she rests her cheek on her knees. “No.”

“What’re you doing out here all alone?”

“Thinking.”

About us? Does she finally believe me? Or is she out here thinking of a permanent way to tell me to fuck off?

“Mind if I sit with you?” I ask.

“You already are.”

I chuckle softly. “Fair.”

In the distance, an owl hoots his persistent mournful question, but Molly seems to have her own questions.

“You really didn’t tell that woman anything about me?” she asks.

That’s what has her up in the middle of the night? “No, Muffin. When she hinted that she was interested in me, I stone-cold turned her down. I never knew she was talking shit in her confessionals. I don’t even think it was about me.”

“What do you mean?”

I let out a heavy sigh. “At the last fight, Naptime passed out after the judges’ decisions were read. She rushed into the cage and dropped to her knees next to him like her favorite cat had just been run over.”

Molly doesn’t laugh. “Huh.”

After that we’re quiet. What else can I do or say to help her understand how much I love her?

She continues staring into the shadowy backyard. I stare at her. At her tank top with the thin straps that tie at the top of each shoulder, reminding me of her prom dress. Just like that night, I’m dying to tug on the end of one of the bows and pull it loose.

Instead, I trace my finger over her shoulder. How is her skin always so soft and smooth?

She lifts her head and tilts sideways to look at me. “That tickles.”

“Yeah?” I wrap her ponytail around my hand and gently tug her head to the side. “How about this?” I lean in and brush my lips against her neck, finally tasting the salt of her skin after all this time. “That tickle too?”

She shivers against me. “What are you doing?”

“Inhaling you. You smell so good. Taste good too.” I kiss behind her ear. “I’ve missed you so much.”

She draws in a long shuddery breath. “I’ve missed you too.”

Every cell in my body demands I move the strap out of my way and kiss her shoulder.

But she finally admitted she’s missed me too.

I let go of her hair and wrap her in my arms like a little package. “Can I hold you for a while?”

Her hair tickles against my arm as she rests her check on my biceps. “I’d like that.”

My restraint only lasts for so long. Her familiar cherry-vanilla scent curls around me, stirring a blizzard of memories. “You feel good in my arms.” Right where you belong.

“Hmmm.” She sighs a contented little sound and rubs her hand from my wrist to my elbow. “I like being here,” she whispers, so softly I almost miss the words.

I dip down and kiss the crook of her neck again, stopping to lightly suck.

Her body shivers and trembles in my arms.

“Griff.” It’s not quite a protest or an invitation to do more.

“Tell me what you want.”

She presses against me harder, tilting her head and exposing more of her neck.

Now that feels like an invitation.

I slide my tongue along the side of her neck, and gently graze my teeth against her earlobe.

The soft swell of her breast barely hidden by her tank top teases and tempts me until I can’t resist. I slide my hand over her shoulder and cup her breast through her top.

She gasps and turns slightly, giving me better access. Her nipple is sharp against my thumb, and I stop to stroke it with my fingers. She gasps and arches into my touch. So sensitive. I’ll never get over how she responds to the lightest of touches.

“Are you cold?” I kiss her temple.

“A little.” Her body shudders. “It’s okay.”

The flimsy tank top gaps, giving me room to slip my fingers underneath. Molly lets out a moan as my rough hand palms her breast again. I want my mouth on her so fucking bad it hurts.

“Come here.” This angle and location are too awkward. I need her like I need oxygen. After all this time away from her, furtive gropes in the dark won’t cut it.

She turns quickly and lifts herself off the step, then resettles herself in my lap, facing me.

Much better.

I brace myself with one hand behind me. “What’re you doing, Muffin?”

She places her palm in the center of my chest. “Warming up. You’re like a furnace.” She drops her gaze, staring at my pecs, then lower. “A beautifully sculpted furnace.”

I’m warm all right. Feverishly fucking warm from having her so close. “I don’t know about that. I haven’t done jack shit in weeks. I’m gettin’ all soft.”

Her hand drifts lower, tickling over my abs. “Definitely not soft.”

“Keep moving a few inches south and see how hard I am.”

She laughs softly and the smile finally lighting up her face and lifting away her sadness is better than anything else.

I cup the back of her head and pull her closer. Her eyes close as I press my lips to hers. Heaven. Exactly what I dreamed about for months. She tastes like cherry lip balm and minty toothpaste. I slip my hands under her butt and lift us off the steps.

A quick squeal pops past her lips and she wraps her arms around my neck.

“That’s it. Hold on.” I don’t go far. A few steps back until my heel bumps against one of the old rocking chairs. I lower myself into it, keeping Molly anchored to my lap. The chair tips back wildly, thumping against the house.

I curse and peer up, as if I can see through the walls and into Remy’s bedroom and figure out if the noise woke him. The last thing we need is him racing outside with a shotgun.

“Careful.” Molly giggles and throws her hand forward, bracing the chair so we don’t hit the wall again. “Although,” she tilts her hips forward and back, rocking the chair, “this could be fun.”

I groan each time she rocks herself against me.

“Slow down.” I scatter kisses over her collarbones and stop to nuzzle her neck. “I want to get reacquainted with all the things you like.”

“I like you…touching me…so much,” she says between choppy breaths.

“Happy to do that.” I sneak my hand under her tank top, skimming over her ribs. It feels so fucking good to touch her again.

As much fun as this is—and I’d love to keep messing around in the rocking chair—one of the neighbors could peek outside and get a free show. Not to mention Remy might decide to step outside and wind up seeing more than the starry night sky. I’ll be happy to tell him Molly and I are back together, but I’d rather not have him find out this way.

Molly dips her head, kissing my neck. Her long hair slides over my chest, tickling in the best way possible.

“Will you come downstairs with me?” I whisper against her ear.

She pulls away and stares at my face. “I guess we shouldn’t go upstairs to my room.”

At least our minds are both traveling down the same path. “Probably not.”

“Okay.” She scoots out of my lap and stands in front of me—all sleepy-eyed and kiss-ruffled. The strap of her top hangs off her shoulder and her thin top’s bunched under her breasts, leaving a sliver of her stomach exposed. I slide to the edge of the rocker, grab her by the hips and duck my head to kiss above her belly button.

“That tickles.” She rakes her nails through my hair and I close my eyes, savoring the shivery sensation that shoots straight down my spine.

“You’re awfully ticklish tonight.” I kiss her stomach again, then tug her shirt into place.

“Because you’re extra tickle-giving tonight.” She skitters her fingers over my shoulders and into the crook of my neck, giving me a dose of my own ticklish medicine.

How did I survive so long without having her hands on me?

Never again.