That produced silence.
“Now why would you nickname me that?” He kept his lips at her temple, closing his eyes when the breeze stirred a tendril of fragrant hair, breathing in the scent of strawberries and thinking how delicious she smelled.
How delicious she felt.
How damned delicious she was, all soft curves, sweet scent, silky hair, and warm satiny skin. God, he’d like to taste her.
“Your hair.”
Her low answer had him blinking out of his musings. “What?”
“Your hair,” she repeated. “It’s gold.”
“Huh.” He nodded, lifting his head as he thought about it. “Okay.”
“Okay what?” Tipping back her head, she looked up at him.
Kirk smiled down at her. “You can call me Goldie if you want.”
“I’d have done it anyway,” she replied pertly, obviously having rediscovered her sassiness.
“I know.”
“So I don’t need your permission.”
“Never said you did.”
“Good, because I don’t need any man’s permission to do anything.”
Before he could even think to ask what she meant by that cryptic statement, the music stopped and Molly took the opportunity to twist out of his hold.
“Goodness.” She looked at her watch, pretending surprise. “Is it that late?”
Dee checked her own wristwatch. “Cripes, I better get a move on. It’s nearly midnight and I have to be up early for work.”
Del sighed. “Ditto.”
Oh no. If Molly thought to escape him now, she had another think coming. Before Scott could say anything, Kirk stated, “I’ll take you home.”
Of course, she immediately started refusing. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly trouble you-”
“No trouble.” He started towards her.
She started backing up. “But Scott picked me up and-”
“He won’t mind. Right, Scott?”
“Right.” If Scott’s grin got any bigger, the bastard would be eating his own ears.
“Oh, but I’m sure Del wouldn’t mind-”
“Del came on Simon’s bike.” Kirk matched her step for step, only his were much bigger and he was gaining ground.
Molly’s eyes were starting to look a little panicky, which was interesting. “Then Dee could-”
“Dee came on Ryder’s bike.”
Molly’s bottom came up against the table.
“I go past the boarding house so it makes sense to drop you off on the way.” He caught her elbow. “’Night, all. Great BBQ, Scott and Ash. How about we have movie night at my place next time?”
“Great idea.” Scott waved a little too happily. “’Night, Molly. I’ll catch up with you.”
“But-”
“Yeah, see you both soon.” Simon turned to Del. “Ready?”
Kirk started moving towards the corner of the house.
“But I don’t have a helmet!” Molly cried as a last minute defence.
“You can borrow mine.” Ash ran into the house.
With no argument left, Molly could do nothing else but allow Kirk to lead her around the corner of the house.
No sooner had they been cut off from the sight of the others than she hissed, “Stop it!”
“Stop what?”
“Pulling me around like I’m some pet puppy on a lead!”
“You’re way more than a pet puppy.”
“I won’t be told what to do by a man!”
Hmmm. Turning, he looked down at her. “This is something that needs discussing.”
“What?” She glared at him. “I’m not discussing anything with you.”
“Yeah, you are. Not now, though.” Turning, he started forward again, only to feel her resistance.
That was soon stopped when Simon and Del’s voices came from behind them. Molly sped up to walk beside him. “You can let me go now. I promise to be good.”
“That’s a shame.” Oops, where had that come from? Kirk glanced down to meet her stormy eyes and grinned. He couldn’t help it, she looked mad enough to spit. “Come on, kitten.”
“Kitten?” Before she could say anything else, the front door light went on and Ash appeared holding her motorbike helmet.
“Here we go.” Ash came down the steps to hand it to Molly.
“Gosh, thanks.” Molly sounded sincere, but Kirk just bet there was a whole lot of silent swearing going on.
Leading her over to the motorbikes, Kirk took the helmet from her and reached around to tug the tie from her ponytail, her wealth of thick hair spilling around her shoulders.
She jerked her head back. “What are you doing?”
“A high ponytail will be uncomfortable.” He slid the helmet carefully over her head and buckled the strap beneath her chin. “There you go.”
“Thanks so much.” The words came from between gritted teeth.
Amused, Kirk slid his leather jacket on and swung up onto the bike, kicking off the stand and starting the engine, the powerful roar of it loud in the quiet of the countryside.
A second and third similar roar announced that Simon and Ryder had started their bikes and Kirk glanced around to see Del hopping onto the back of Simon’s, Dee on Ryder’s, and both wrapped their arms around the men’s waists.
With a nod from Simon and a small salute from Ryder, they turned the bikes and roared out of the driveway, opening the throttle when they hit the open road.
Kirk slid his helmet on and fastened it, turning the bike around while Scott and Ash had a few last words with Molly, who by all accounts looked as happy as anything but was seething underneath.
Pulling up beside her, he nodded.
With a last ‘goodnight’ to her cousin and his fiancée, Molly swung up on the motorbike behind him, her thighs nestling behind his, her arms sliding around his waist in a move that proved she was no stranger to riding pillion.
Within seconds they were on the road and he throttled up, feeling her lean against him. Man, she felt good, all warm and soft at his back, her arms around his waist tightening. The sensation of her clinging to him, holding on tight, trusting him to get her home safely just did it for him. Made him feel protective, gave him satisfaction.
He wished it could have lasted longer but all too soon the boarding house came into view and he turned into the driveway, pulling up in front of the veranda steps. Before he could turn off the bike, Molly was off, struggling with the helmet strap in a blatant hurry.
Amused, Kirk took his helmet off and rested it on the fuel tank while she continued to wrestle. When she finally gave up in bad-tempered exasperation, he crooked a finger at her.
With obvious reluctant, Molly conceded defeat and approached, her gaze mutinous as she stopped right beside him.
Without saying a word, he undid the strap beneath her chin and lifted the helmet off her head before handing it to her. He’d been intending to start demanding answers but one look at her face close up showed him the tiredness in the slight shadows beneath her eyes.
And then she totally disarmed him by whispering, “Please, Kirk, not tonight.”
“Molly-”
“Please. I can’t. Not now.”
His every intention of making her talk was blown to shit. One look at her big green eyes, her softly pleading lips, the way she laid her hand gently on his wrist, and he was lost. What kind of a low-down mongrel would he be to interrogate her when her spirits were so low?
Softening, he leaned forward to kiss her brow gently. “Go to bed, Molly.”
“Okay.” Her reply was meek, her lowered eyelashes almost submissive.
He wasn’t sure he liked submissive, he much preferred her fiery and defiant, that was way more fun. But she was tired, she’d worked hard all day, it was late.
Slipping on his helmet, he did the strap up while studying her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded.
“Go inside, lock the door behind you.”
Meekly she obeyed, an
d he watched her the whole way until the front door shut behind her, cutting her from view. Only then did he pull down the driveway onto the road.
It was only when he got ready for bed, thinking about the evening and grinning at Molly’s fiery responses, that it hit him hard and sudden, leaving him staring at his startled expression reflected in the mirror.
Pulling the toothbrush from his mouth, he said incredulously, “Jesus, she played me for a fool.”
Meek? Molly Travers was anything but, and she’d neatly turned the tables on him by going all docile and mild. What had that done? Made him go all soft in turn and leave her alone.
Slapping his hand to his forehead, he shook his head. Shit, he could have had all the answers, instead he’d let her beguiling ways turn him to marshmallow. He was a cop for crying out loud. He could read people, he was a damned good judge of character, yet he’d just had the wool pulled over his eyes. Molly had known exactly what she was doing.
Rinsing his mouth, he slipped the toothbrush back into the holder, wiped his mouth with the towel and strode into the bedroom. If that cunning woman thought she’d won she had another think coming, Kirk Morrison was no one’s fool. He was like a bull terrier when he got his teeth stuck into something - and that something was Molly.
Chapter 4
Arms folded, Molly studied the beat-up old ute. Flaming red in colour, roll bar at the top, heavy ‘roo bar at the front, obvious dents in the side panels that had been hammered out, rust spots decorating the tail gate, and out-sized wheels. This was not the kind of vehicle she had envisaged buying.
“One of a kind.” Jason thumped the side of the ute with his fist. “Worked on it myself, got it spick and span.”
She cast him an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”
“Yep.” Obviously not understanding her tone, he walked around to the ‘roo bar and gave a section of it a polish with his grubby shirt. “Just needs a wash, a little scrub to get the blood off.”
“Blood?”
Forearms resting on the edge of the tailgate, Brand grinned. “Went ‘roo shooting last night, kind of hit one head on, you know?”
“Hit one?” Her lip curled in disgust. “You mean you had your rifles and you still hit one?” She pointed to the spotlights mounted on the roll bar. “You didn’t see it?”
“’Course we saw it.” Brand laughed harshly. “Blinded it and then wham! Knocked it arse over tit. That buck never knew what hit him.”
“Two idiots is what hit him,” she shot back angrily.
“Look, you’re a city girl, you wouldn’t understand.” Smirking, he exchanged a glance with his brother.
“I might be a city girl but I used to holiday out here, and any moron knows when you ‘roo shoot, you shoot for a clean, quick kill. You don’t torture the poor things by deliberately hitting them.”
“Just havin’ some fun.”
“Just being dickheads.”
“Whatever.” Straightening, he thumped the tailgate. “So, you interested in buying this little bewdy?”
“No.”
“Aw, come on.” Jason walked back to her. “Just because you’re a little mad?”
“I’m mad because you’re heartless arseholes, but I’m saying ‘no’ because this isn’t the kind of car I’m after.”
He looked at the ute. “Why not? You can throw your stuff in the back, it’s got plenty of room for everything.”
“Thanks, but no.” She started to move away. “It’s just not what I’m looking for.”
Brand’s face darkened as he strode around the back of the ute to block her path. “Listen, we heard you were looking to buy a car. There’s nothing wrong with this ute. We’ve looked after it, it’s in top-notch condition.”
Molly recognised his stance, his manner, his brother mimicking it at her side. The Dawson brothers were closing her in, attempting to intimidate her. No freakin’ way was that happening.
Coolly, she looked Brand in the eyes. “I don’t want your car.”
“Too good for it, are you?”
“I’m not looking to date it.”
“So what’s wrong with it?”
“I want four doors and a car that won’t fall apart as soon as I go over a speed bump.”
Brand’s mood was fast turning ugly. “You throwing insults around now, Travers?”
“I don’t throw them, but if you choose to catch them as such there’s nothing I can do about it.” She stepped to the side and started walking.
He blocked her path once more. “Listen, you stuck up bitch. We offered you a good deal, there’s no need to spit it back in our faces.”
Oh boy. Her heart started to beat a little faster but she wasn’t backing down. Balancing on her feet, ready to fight or run - though she was a poor fighter and definitely not built for speed - Molly stepped right up into Brand’s space, startling him.
No, he wasn’t used to women facing him up. Never had been, she guessed, not with his mother being ridden roughshod by his father. The Dawson brothers hadn’t grown up to respect anyone, much less women. Well, Molly wasn’t his mother.
“You listen,” she said tightly. “I don’t want your car. It’s not what I want. Stop sooking and get over it. Okay?”
He was still so surprised that he didn’t follow her this time when she strode away.
Head held high, heart definitely knocking around in her chest, she shoved her betrayingly shaking hands into the pockets of her skirt and kept walking. Keep walking, don’t look back.
“Hey, wait.” A hand grabbed her upper arm, swinging her around.
Nerves firing, she moved with it, her arm swinging out, her hand narrowly missing Jason’s face as he leaped back.
“Don’t touch me!” she spat. “Don’t touch me and don’t ever grab me.”
Shocked, he blinked. Right behind him, his brother’s jaw dropped.
Anger boiling upwards to combine with her fear, she stabbed her finger in Jason’s chest and snarled, “You ever touch me again, ever, and I will kick you in the nuts so hard your testicles will strangle your tonsils.”
Pivoting around, she strode off, heart pounding, palms sweaty and anger threatening to explode from her throat in a stream of screaming and cursing. Swinging out of their yard, she stormed down the street, strides long, head high, arms swinging, hands fisted.
Of all the useless bastards! How dare he? How bloody dare he? Teeth gritted, she turned onto the main street, the startled face of a passing woman making her recall that she was in public. Furious she might be, nerves strung taut definitely, reaction setting in most assuredly, but she had to maintain her public face. Forcing herself to smile, shoving her tumultuous emotions down deep, she smoothed out her expression, nodding politely to the woman who now looked back at her warily.
Maybe what she needed was a hot cuppa, a few minutes in surroundings that didn’t demand anything of her. Molly swung into the café, returning Ernie’s greeting. “Hi Ernie. Can I have a cappuccino, please?” Coffee? No, this called for the big guns. “Actually, make that an iced chocolate.”
Yeah, that was what she needed, a good dose of sugar to settle her nerves. Chocolate, ice cream, cream, milk - definitely not good for her abundant figure but damned good for her nerves. She’d spent a good few sessions with her friend, Sherry, over iced chocolate and girl gossip. Usually after one of Sherry’s more intense sessions, when things overwhelmed her a little too much, when she needed to talk and not to Keith. Some people in that lifestyle questioned Sherry’s friendship with Molly, but some understood. Sometimes a different lifestyle, a less intense one, was some light relief, though Molly had often told Sherry that intense relationships were everywhere, not just in her scene.
Then again, what did she really know? Apart from that one episode - Molly shied away from it, the remembered crack in the air of the belt, the red hot pain that burned across her back… “Jesus,” she whispered. “Don’t.”
“You all right, sweetie?” Cheryl stopped walking past the table.<
br />
“What? Oh, fine. Just fine.” Molly managed a wide smile. “Just talking to myself, you know how it is.”
“I sure do. It’s one of my favourite pastimes.” Cheryl nodded. “Have your drink ready in a minute.”
“Thanks.” Taking a seat near the window, Molly pulled her mobile out and scrolled down through the numbers, finding Sherry’s easily. Her thumb hovered over the button as she hesitated.
Shit, maybe Keith wasn’t going to let her answer calls right now. Maybe she was in servitude mode or something. Maybe she had to wait for permission. Maybe she was being punished for some transgression. The punishments didn’t happen just during scenes, they sometimes spilled over into their life. Keith demanded a certain amount of obedience outside the clubs.
Rubbing her finger thoughtfully up and down the bridge of her nose, Molly frowned. She liked him even though sometimes she wasn’t sure why. He was friendly, strong, and he loved Sherry. But he demanded things of her, did things to her that made Molly’s insides shrivel. Yet her friend liked it, accepted it, lived for it, In his own way Keith worshipped the ground she walked on, there was no denying it…just as there was no denying what he did to her, what she allowed him to do.
And he’d come to Molly’s rescue.
It was a consensual relationship, she reminded herself, she’d promised to never judge it or them. It might not be her chosen lifestyle but it was their’s and not her business. God knew a lot of conventional relationships were violent and some things that happened in them definitely weren’t consensual.
It was also true that some people who wanted to live a dominant and submissive lifestyle just didn’t know what the hell they were doing. Sometimes it just ticked all their violent boxes, as she’d discovered.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the connection button. It rang a couple of times before the answering machine kicked in. “You’ve reached the Boden residence. Leave a message and we’ll get back to you.”
“Hey, Sherry, it’s Molly.” She paused, picked at a scratch in the Formica tabletop. “So, just wanted to touch base. Hope everything is fine. It’s all good here.” Another pause, feeling like an idiot, not wanting to hang up but not wanting to continue talking to a machine. “So, anyway, call me when you get a chance, okay?” Flicking off the mobile, she dropped it onto the table and rested her chin in her hand, gazing out the window.
Fall for You Page 9