by Nic Saint
He quickly clambered down, all the while calling out her name.
Molly was dreaming of the burbling brook at the bottom of her parents’ yard. How she’d loved to sit there watching the clear water gurgle over rocks and sand. The sound was soothing, and the reflecting sun on the water’s surface magical. Now, as she listened to the familiar sound, a smile crept up her face even as she slept. Then, suddenly, a voice intruded the restfulness of sleep. Someone was calling out her name. Over and over again. Could it be her father? Suddenly she was snapped back to the terrible events at the mall. Only it had been her crying out, calling out for her mother and father, not knowing they would never reach out to her ever again, and neither would her little sister and grandmother, their lives brutally snuffed out by a senseless act of violence.
She suddenly experienced a chill, her feet cold and wet, and when her eyes finally snapped open she saw that foaming water was lapping at her legs, and that Steve was hurtling along the disappearing strip of beach in her direction.
“Molly! Thank God! We have to get out of here!”
She scrambled to her feet, horrified to find the water rising so rapidly that already it was reaching the edge of the beach, bubbling all around her.
She took Steve’s hand as he started thrashing away, taking her in tow, and before long she was ankle-deep in the water. Her book had drifted away, as had her backpack, but she didn’t care. She’d seen the way the waters could rage and swirl, and knew that if they didn’t get out of here right now they would irrevocably be swept out to deeper waters, incapable of fighting that strong current.
“Almost there!” Steve cried as the water was now rising to her knees and she had to wade powerfully to make any headway. The higher the waters rose, the more difficult it became to move and the more their progression was halted. Then, finally, they reached the small trail that led up along the rock face and it was then that she tripped and fell and she felt herself go under and be dragged away by the surging mass of water! The cold was like a shock to her system.
She took a gulp of brine before kicking herself back to the surface and crying out in sheer terror, the image of the sharp rocks beneath the surface adding to her horror. She went under a second time, and then strong arms suddenly grabbed her and were dragging her away. And then Steve was leading her back to safety with powerful strokes of his legs. It seemed to take them forever to reach the trail, and by the time they did the churning, raging waters were already crashing wildly against the rock, and it was all she could do to hang on. Steve led her hand to a tree root, telling her intently, “Hold on tight!”
And then they were clambering up, dragging themselves from the water to safety. She quickly made it to the top with Steve’s help, and as she finally crested the edge she was coughing and spitting out icy, salty water, cold to the bone.
Steve eyed her sternly. “We have to get you out of those wet clothes,” he grumbled, and then he was leading her back to the house, taking her hand and forcing her to break into a run. Her body was shivering violently, and the last couple of feet she stumbled. Steve picked her up to carry her the final stretch.
He slammed open the door and quickly carried her into her room. And even as she was shivering violently, her teeth clattering, his hands made short shrift of her shirt and pants, and then he was rubbing her dry with a coarse towel. And it was only then that she realized that she was naked under his touch, and that he was seeing her—seeing her terrible scars—and she knew that her secret was out.
He would know. He would see where they’d sewn her back together, and see the burns. She made to cover herself, but he slapped her hands away and kept on scrubbing until her skin was glowing red and then he was gone for a moment, but he returned, and she found herself in bed, covered by the sheets and the warmth of Steve’s body as he held her close, his naked skin on hers, quickly eradicating the chill from her bones and putting an end to the violent quakes.
Chapter 12
There was a soft caress, as Steve’s fingers lightly trailed along her shoulder, his fingertips light as feathers as they stroked gently before sliding into her hair.
“I’ve been wondering about this ever since you arrived,” he murmured.
“Wondering about what?” she asked, almost afraid of his response.
“How you would feel.”
She shivered again, only this time it wasn’t from the cold but from the sensation of Steve’s fingers, and when she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked over, she could see the desire burning in his eyes, as obvious as the telltale signs of her own arousal at their nearness, his skin hot against hers, creating a tightness in her breasts, her nipples pouting against his hard chest.
“I—you saw my—you saw the—” she began haltingly.
But all he said was, “Shh,” and then his lips brushed against hers, softly, gently, and she opened them on a hush of sensuous pleasure, the sensations his touch elicited too powerful to deny.
And as he covered her mouth with his, he feathered kisses along the corners of her mouth before his tongue dove between the seam of her lips. She welcomed the sensation, meeting his tongue with hers, the sensuous dance sending thrills of eroticism racing up and own her spine, her belly aching with a sudden, surging need like she’d never known before. Never before had there been a man who elicited this kind of arousal in her, who made her want him like he wanted her. Who made her yearn for his touch, for his hands on her.
He rolled them around so he was on top of her, and she surrendered, her slender hands sliding up his broad back until they clasped at the nape of his neck, and she allowed herself to sink deeply into the kiss, the sensation of his tongue stroking, sliding, moving against hers whipping up a fire at the heart of her sex that involuntarily made her grind her hips against him, and aware of the hard arousal of his sex pressed against her belly, pressed against her scar.
She involuntarily jerked, but he told her, “It’s all right, Molly. It’s all right.”
As if he could read her mind. As if he understood. And perhaps he did, as he’d suffered a similar fate as she had. He, too, was scarred, and as her fingers caressed the pattern of his damaged flesh, she could feel him wince. But then she let her hands move down to his buttocks, and he responded with a deep growl, his lips suddenly mobile, moving down along her throat, his tongue gently lapping at her tender flesh, discovering her clavicle and the sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. Lower still until he reached her breasts, and she gasped, the breath momentarily caught in her lungs, when he laved her nipple, erecting the aching peak even more, his lips closing over her sensitized flesh.
His hands cupped her breasts even as his lips caressed first one then the other nipple, her body undulating freely as sensations she’d never been aware of raced through her. Involuntarily she arched her back, her legs parting as his thigh caressed hers, and she could feel his hardness stroking her tender sex.
Suddenly she knew that this was right—that this was the way it should be. She wanted Steve—wanted him to make love to her. To finally make her a woman. And even though her mind still threw hurdles in their path, offering a strong resistance, the pulling sensations in her body were too powerful, and hurdle after hurdle was slammed down as she groaned, “Steve. Oh, Steve.”
In response he darted kisses along her belly, his fingers caressing the damaged flesh, and she held her breath. But then he murmured, “Christ, you’re beautiful, Molly.”
She was almost giddy, but when his lips reached her sex she gasped at the swift response of her moist cleft to his touch and the stroking sensation of his tongue as it lapped along her crevasse, his fingers parting the outer lips as he licked deeper inside her, opening her to his touch. And then she was suddenly hurled into the abyss when his tongue tip touched her clitoris and the sensations that had been building up inside her lower belly suddenly exploded into violent quakes that sent her body rocking and trembling against his hands and tongue.
And as his fingers lightly car
essed her thighs his tongue penetrated her most sacred treasure, and she was crying out his name in agonized pleasure. Her eyelids fluttered when he rose up and positioned himself against her, his sex stroking at hers, and the sensation was driving her near the precipice once more. He gazed lightly into her eyes, a question on his handsome face, and when she nodded, he gently entered her, sliding into her slick sheath, his girth filling her.
The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever known, the wideness of him applying pressure to her most sensitive spot that took a moment to adjust, but then she experienced a pleasure that was beyond compare, and as he gently rocked deeper, sliding along her channel until he filled her flesh with his, she felt a twinge of pain, a sudden tightening, and then the sweet relaxation.
She saw the surprise in his eyes when he realized that he was her first.
For a moment he was on the verge of retreat, but she folded her legs around his buttocks, forcing him on, and whispered, “I want this, Steve. I want you.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips. Then, as he slid deeply inside her, she cried out, not with pain or distress, but with the sheer joy of it, with the sheer pleasure of feeling him moving so deeply inside her, his hardness spreading her softness and eliciting the most wonderful sensation at the heart of her sex.
And then he was moving gently, rocking inside her, sliding deeply in and out as his buttocks bunched and she rolled into the same rhythm with him. And as his lips lingered along her throat, her head arched back, she whimpered in ecstasy as suddenly she was hurled over the precipice of pure pleasure, her sex spasming wildly around his, and then he, too, grunted a wild masculine groan as she felt the heat of his release spread inside her core.
He rolled her over so she was on top of him, and they remained connected, her head resting on his shoulder, his fingers stroking through her silken hair.
“I… I was afraid you would find my body…” She didn’t know how to voice her fear, so she began again. “I was afraid you would find me hideous,” she finished huskily, her voice choking up as hot tears flowed into the back of her throat.
“I could never find you hideous, Molly. You’re so beautiful…” And as if to prove it he slid a hand between them, placing it on her belly. “You are beautiful all over,” he stressed, his voice soft and his eyes tender as they added meaning and truth to his words.
More tears followed, only this time they weren’t tears of pain but tears of joy.
“I was your first?” he questioned.
She nodded. “I never thought I’d ever be with a man,” she told him.
“Tell me,” he said simply.
And she did. She told him about the terror attack that took her family. About the metal shards lodged in her belly, causing her to lose the possibility of ever being able to conceive. And about her decision to become a nurse in the wake of the tragedy.
He listened attentively throughout, his eyes glittering passionately. “So you now work in the same unit where you were treated?” he asked.
“Yes. The people there… they inspired me. I felt I needed to give something back. To do for others what they did for me. They mean the world to me.”
And as they lay there, in a close embrace for the longest time, she felt as if she’d never been happier. As if this was the first time life had granted her a truly precious gift. And as she listened to the steady drum of Steve’s heart, she felt a twinge of an emotion she’d never before experienced, and she knew that not only was Steve her first, but he would also be her last.
The only man she’d ever give herself to.
Steve was blown away, not just by the tenderness with which they’d made love, but by the courage of the woman in his arms. She was the strongest woman he’d ever met, and at the same time the softest and most tender-hearted. What a coincidence to meet a woman who’d also been a victim of terror. Whose wounds resembled his own. She’d lost her entire family that day and still found the courage to go on. Even to help others facing the same predicament.
And then there was the fact that she was a virgin. He’d almost moved away from her, not wanting to accept the responsibility, but even if he had wanted to stop, he simply couldn’t have. She’d already made it clear she wanted this as much as he did, and even if she hadn’t told him, her body language had spoken volumes. The heat of his need had been so overpowering that even if he’d wanted to he wouldn’t have been able to stop.
And as Molly kissed his chest, and the scar tissue over his heart, she suddenly became aware of a different sound than his heartbeat. It was the wash of rotors slapping the air. And when Steve leaned up and said, “The chopper. It’s back,” she knew that their time together here had abruptly come to an end.
They quickly got dressed and raced outside to see the chopper descending from the dark clouds, its rotors valiantly swatting at the downpour from hell, its pilot expertly setting the aircraft down in spite of the buffeting winds.
It was now so dark out it could have been evening instead of noon.
And then a figure came running over, hunching low.
Steve squinted into the darkness at the approaching figure. “It’s Mike,” he grunted. “My brother,” he explained. What the hell was Mike doing here? He’d given specific instructions not to be disturbed. Something very important must have come up for his brother to ignore his orders and personally fly out here.
“Steve!” Mike acknowledged when he’d finally joined them and shook the rain from his hair. “Great to see you. And Miss Grayson.”
“What’s up?” Steve asked curtly, making clear that he wasn’t pleased.
Mike studied Molly for a moment, and he must have seen the flush on her cheeks, her tousled hair and swollen lips, interpreting the signs correctly. For his brows lifted and a flash sparkled in his eyes, then it was gone, replaced by a businesslike,” Something’s come up, Steve. We need you in London ASAP.”
He frowned. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”
“A takeover attempt at Knight Enterprises. Remember that Press Corp deal we signed a couple of months ago? Leila Holmes, the new CEO, has decided that now she wants to buy us out, and take over control of the entire group.”
Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, Christ,” he muttered, darting a quick glance at Molly. “And you need me to—”
“To stand shoulder to shoulder with us. We’re launching a counterattack and need your presence at the helm now, Steve. We do not want to lose this fight.”
Steve nodded quickly. “Of course. Just let me grab a few things.”
Molly, listening with rising dread, turned to Steve. “Does this mean—”
“It means we have to fly back to London, Molly. Right now.”
And so, as abruptly as it began, her love affair was at an end, she knew.
And as she’d known the moment she’d heard the chopper arrive, it played out exactly as she’d foreseen. Marco took them back to London, Mike and Steve discussing the upcoming fight in a terse exchange. The moment they landed at Knight Tower, the two men disappeared into the night, and she was escorted out of the building and into a waiting taxi, whisked away to her own life once again.
The brief experience of being a woman loved and made love to by the most wonderful man she’d ever known was now really and truly a thing of the past.
And as if nothing had ever happened, she was back in her own apartment, picking up her cat from Mrs. Merkel, the elderly neighbor who habitually took care of Minny when Molly was held up at the hospital. She sank into a kitchen chair, her apartment suddenly so empty and devoid of life. And the gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach returned in full force and her throat clogged as she realized the inevitable had happened: somewhere along the line she’d fallen in love with Steve. She’d lost her heart to him and now she didn’t know how to go on without him. And as she tenderly stroked Minny she allowed the tears to come and then she was throwing herself onto the bed, dissolving into misery, the emptiness of her life and her bed sud
denly unbearable after they had ever so briefly been filled with the presence of the only man she’d ever fallen for.
Chapter 13
The next few days Molly lived as in a haze. The sudden entrance into her life of Steve, and his equally abrupt departure, had plunged her into a deep pit of emotional turmoil. She kept replaying the scenes of their brief moments together on Tyler Island, and kept hoping Steve would call, but of course he didn’t.
It was obvious that she’d been simply a short interlude in his life, a brief fling that had been pleasurable but highly forgettable. She would never feature in his thoughts, she recognized, as he’d probably already forgotten she even existed.
She’d received a call from Malcolm, who’d been alerted of her return—no doubt by Steve’s office—and inquired how she was feeling and if everything had worked out. She’d told him the truth: that she hadn’t really been of any help down there. That her presence had been unwanted and unnecessary, and the clucking of his tongue had told her he already regretted sending her out there.
“Take some time off, Molly,” he said magnanimously. “You’ve earned it.”
Seeing as she hadn’t taken a vacation in two years she knew this wasn’t his kind heart speaking but simply his acknowledgment of her legal rights.
At first she’d been inclined to turn him down and get back to work immediately, but then figured she might just as well stay home for a few days.
The first day she’d cleaned her small apartment, the second day she’d gone shopping, to stock her kitchen cupboards, and the third day the walls had already started closing in on her, her mind spinning the scenes that she’d lived through over and over again, and wondering if she would ever see Steve again.
In truth, she realized as the day drew to a close, she’d been hoping against hope that Steve would call and that they would spend some time together. Of course that had been wishful thinking, as she should have known.