by Diana Seere
“I don’t care. Not now.” Molly pointed at the big desk. “Stay.”
Edward laughed softly under his breath. They were both finding reserves of toughness they hadn’t known they had.
“If you insist,” Sam said, shaking her head. “But I can’t promise to stay very long.”
“Fine. But for now, you park your butt right there,” Molly said. She jabbed her finger at the desk again before pulling Edward along with her to the door.
Edward’s hand seemed to slip lower down her back, lightly grazing her ass. He bent down and whispered in her ear, “Feisty.”
“You better believe it.” Molly wanted to say something else tough and bossy, but a yawn overtook her. When was the last time she’d slept? The plane had hardly been enough.
“I’m bringing you home,” Edward said. “You’re exhausted.”
Asher was suddenly at their side with the others. “She can’t go home. It’s not safe. She’ll need to go to a safe house.”
“I’ll be fine,” Molly said, yawning again.
“You’ll be fine because I’m going to keep you safe,” Edward said. “No arguing. I’ll take you to a safe house where you can rest.”
“Glad to see you’ve regained a little sense,” Asher said as he led the group to the elevator.
When everyone was ahead of them, just out of earshot, Edward added, “And after you’ve rested, you’re mine.”
Finding a safe house proved harder than Edward had expected, his loyalties torn. On the one hand, his heart ached on Asher’s behalf. The look on his face. He might as well have been channeling his deceased wife and baby in the moment. Edward gritted his teeth at the memory, fighting grief, fighting Asher’s obvious pain. Science was too late for poor Claire and their unborn child.
But Gavin’s fight for this serum had come from the tragedy, with good intentions.
On the other hand, he needed to protect Molly. Now.
The need for high-level security detail meant that their options were extremely limited. And while his thoughts turned to one of the private rooms in the Novo Club as the group took the elevator back downstairs to convene, discuss, and refresh themselves with much-needed food and privacy, he felt the invasion suddenly.
Grimly.
“They’re here,” Asher said in that formal way he had with words, the economy of syllables that came from gravitas. Edward closed his eyes as the elevator jerked to a stop, knowing what he would find when the doors opened. All of the shifters from the Gathering, reconvened here.
Except he was wrong.
“You ASSHOLES!” Sophia hissed, one hand filled with an enormous apple fritter, the other holding a white china teacup filled with coffee.
Edward’s stomach growled. Molly was pressed against his ribs and giggled at the sound, patting his flat belly.
Lower, he thought.
Move that hand lower.
“You charged out of here like a testosterone train,” Sophia muttered, savagely taking another bite of her pastry and speaking around her mouthful. “You left me to deal with them!” The hand with the fritter gestured vaguely behind her, where the murmur of many voices filled the darkened cavern of the Novo Club’s main lounge. Firelight flickered in the distance, and Edward saw the top of a man’s head sitting in a leather wing-back chair, the hair the color of ash.
Miklos Nagy.
“Thank you for greeting them on our behalf,” Asher said to her, ignoring her actual emotions, speaking only to the point that made sense for him. Nostrils flared so far they might cross state lines. Sophia swallowed hard and grabbed Asher’s forearm, a single act that would have been unimaginable to witness just one week ago but that made Edward smile as his sister berated a pseudo-placid Asher, who marched toward the fireplace.
Of course the other shifters were here. Derry, Jess, Gavin, Lilah, and Asher poured out of the lift. Molly took one step forward, but Edward stopped her.
Gavin happened to turn and catch Edward’s eye, his expression changing to a wry grin.
“Take our apartment. Manny will handle security.” Pulling Lilah closer, he stroked her shoulder and gave Edward a meaningful stare. “Though you’d be safer here.”
Across the room, a group of Rosinis looked over, whispers and hisses coming from the cluster of gossipy heads.
And then Edward’s gaze met that of Tomas Nagy.
Who looked at Molly like she was a main course. The asshole moved toward them with the unhurried manner of a man who assumed he would get what he came for.
As the doors closed slowly, Edward said to Gavin, “Thank you,” pressing his palm against the panel that took them to the private entrance where Manny awaited.
Molly’s breathless slump against the lift’s wall expressed some of Edward’s own internal state.
“I have sisters! And magic blood! And someone’s out to get me because my magic blood can take away your animal powers. People I don’t know have been studying my DNA in a lab. People I trusted took my blood every six weeks and gave me cookies and orange juice in return. My blood. My blood. Edward, tell me this is all a joke!” Her voice went high and reedy, eyes wild and begging.
She really wanted it to be a joke.
So did he.
“I’ll protect you,” he promised, all the vibrations inside and out going still with his words. He had no idea what she meant by the word sisters, but magic?
Magic he understood.
Magic made him sweep her into his arms, lifting her until her feet no longer touched the ground, their kiss pulling them up, up, up toward the heavens.
Magic made him speak to her with his lips, his tongue, his hands and heart and blood that pulsed through a body too small to contain what he felt for her.
Magic made her fingers dig into his ass, pressing him closer, making him need her with a visceral, quavering vulnerability that should have scared him but did not.
And magic made it so that the limo waited for them in the private parking garage, Manny holding the door as Edward rushed Molly into the back, his body on hers before the driver could close the door, their inner sanctum complete as she rose up beneath him, mouth and hands hungry, exhaustion and overwhelm be damned.
In her.
He needed to be in her now, to say all of the words that only flesh could utter, to be the vibration that quenched her needs, smoothed her worried brow, filled her hollow heart, made her know how much she meant to him and how their union—in every way possible—was all he ever needed.
“Edward, oh God,” she whispered, fingers nimble and searching, sliding under his shirt, grasping bare skin as if she felt it, too, a frantic need that swallowed her whole. His mouth found her neck, biting lightly, suckling sweetly until her gasp turned to a moan.
“Molly, I’m so sorry. I should have told you. Forgive me, please. I didn’t know what to do, how to help, how to make certain no one would ever hurt you. I wanted to hear what was said at the Gathering before I shared what little I knew. Oh, Molly. I’m so sorry. You are so special. I couldn’t bear the idea that someone might hurt you. Don’t leave. You can’t leave. I cannot be alone again. You can’t—”
His impromptu speech surprised them both, Molly’s fingertips resting against his lips, the beard separating her skin from his.
“Stop talking. We’ll talk later.” Her eyes seemed older, wiser, more searching and less surprised. “Make love to me, Edward. Body and soul.” An impishness filled those wide blue eyes now, and she was back to the lighthearted version of herself. “I’ve never been with a billionaire in a limo before.” Her neck stretched as she looked up, then around, taking in the dark leather of the limousine, her fingers brushing against the tops of the bottles in the bar.
“Then let us remedy that,” he growled, shoving aside all the emotion that called out for expression in words, determined to give her what she wanted.
“I like the cabin more,” she said, voice choked off into a gasp as he found her warm sweetness under the waistband of her pants, her
hips grinding into him, begging for release. Hot for him. She was slick and ready.
“We’ll have plenty of time for the cabin later. I’ll build you our own cabin with my bare hands when I take you home,” he said, his voice raw with emotion, her eyes so deep and wondering, tears filling as he spoke the sentiment. He meant it. Plank by plank, brick by brick, he would build whatever it took to make Molly happy.
The words stopped, though, touch taking over, an unspoken agreement that time was of the essence, for no reason other than the urgent need to connect.
He straddled her as the car turned left, then right, her knees against his hips, his unleashed cock unable to stop, the magnetic pull of her body too much to resist. She looked up at him, her right hand wrapped around his shaft, her other hand pulling at her panties as she untangled herself, the creamy expanse of her naked legs catching him, making his breath halt in his throat.
The soft yielding flesh of her quads as he dipped into her, gasping as she clenched, drawing him in, made for a sensory overload that was so exquisite he lost himself fully for a few seconds.
Molly found him, her mouth open and taking his, the hot rush of her teeth biting his lip, the scratch of his beard against her chin, the pace of pushing into her velvet warmth then pulling back as he found a rhythm meant to dissolve consciousness—and succeeded—all threaded together into one singularity.
Her.
Molly and nothing but Molly.
“Oh,” she cried out, biting his shoulder as she shuddered in ecstasy, “this feels so good.”
He twinned her in movement and thought, the wave inside him cresting, too many years of self-denial and abstinence pent up, unleashed and overflowing. His thighs tightened as he pumped into her, her heels digging into his back, the crashing of their torsos a steady clap muted by clothing, her mouth moving wordlessly against his as they panted and gave in.
Gave in to a force greater than everything he’d ever known as he abandoned himself to their merging, spilling into her with a groan of ecstatic pleasure.
As the limo slowed, he sought to control his breath, Molly pushing aside damp tendrils of hair, giving him a conspirator’s look, her fingernails tickling his back, her calves caressing his glutes. He felt her pulse against him, the back of the limo filled with the tangy scent of sex, his body slowing slightly yet not quite ready to be done.
Not even close, actually.
Still inside her, he kissed her neck and gave himself permission to relax into her, inhaling slowly as he nuzzled her, his ear against her breast.
“You,” he said.
“Me?” She laughed, a half-whispered sound of contentment.
“You.” The sound came forth like a prayer, a song, a chant, a word that has ten thousand meanings but only one true purpose.
And then Molly took his face in both of her hands, palms moving slightly against the grain of his beard, and her eyes met his, dark and serious.
“Us,” she said simply. “Us.”
Chapter 22
Molly had never been shy about sex, but she felt her face redden when the limo driver, Manny, opened the door for them and helped her climb out of the car.
They had just made the poor man an unwilling voyeur. Well, she hoped he was unwilling. Or was that worse, to inflict their lovemaking on him without his consent?
Now she felt embarrassed and guilty, too.
“Um, sorry about that,” she mumbled as he escorted them to an elevator. They were in a private underground garage.
“Sorry about what?” the man asked, managing to appear completely baffled.
Molly grinned. A poker face like that deserved to work for a billionaire. She hoped he made a fortune working for the Stantons. “Right. Well, thank you for the ride.”
“It was a wonderful ride,” Edward mumbled as they boarded the elevator. She stifled a giggle.
At the top floor, Manny let them into Lilah and Gavin’s penthouse. Molly had been there a few times to visit Lilah, although never to spend the night.
Lilah. Her half sister. One of two.
She was so lucky. A warm glow filled her from head to toe.
“Lilah suggested you’d enjoy this section of the apartment,” Manny said, leading them to a sage-green bedroom with attached bath. “There’s another guest suite on the other side of the hall, but it gets afternoon sun and she thought you’d prefer less light for resting.”
“This is beautiful, thank you.”
“I’ll be right outside,” Manny said with a bow. “Don’t hesitate to ask for anything.”
While Edward thanked him and led him to the door, Molly went to the bathroom to take a shower. But when she saw the tiled bath stall with its multiple shower heads and bench seating on all sides, she paused. There were even multiple handheld nozzles. Which one should she turn on?
Which ones?
Laughing, she reached for the one closest to her.
“What’s so funny?” Edward was behind her, his hands snaking around her waist as his lips found her earlobe.
“You could wash a muddy elephant in here.” She gasped at the feel of his hands sliding her clothes off her body. Again.
“Molly,” he breathed into her hair.
“No, no, no. Not yet. I’m going to shower if it kills me.”
“Don’t joke about that,” he said fiercely.
“I’m serious. I’ve just had sex with this guy who’s a total animal…”
“Not total. Only half.”
“Only half.” She giggled again, thinking about the surprises in her own family tree. What percentage of shifter was she? Ten? Five? Just enough for magic blood and an irresistible attraction to men with furry faces.
She cupped his cheek, caressing her thumb over his beard, and pulled him down for a kiss. He indulged her, sweeping his tongue into her mouth with a speed and enthusiasm that shocked her.
“Come to the bed,” Edward said, pulling her off-balance with his kisses. The hot water was sending billowing clouds of steam around them.
“Shower,” she gasped. “Then bed.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Yes you can,” she said, wriggling free and pushing him away. “You can go ask Manny to get me coffee.”
He raised a mocking eyebrow. “You seem to have adapted quickly to having servants to boss about, haven’t you?”
She gave his broad chest another push. Not that the man moved an inch, but she could try to make a point. “Fine. You get me coffee. Extra sugar, extra cream. I like the good stuff.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make it myself.”
She reached in to adjust the water temperature before stepping in and pulling the glass door shut between them. He walked over and moved his face close to the glass, but it was blurred with fog. Just as she was going to remind him about the coffee—not that she really wanted it more than him, but she couldn’t resist him another moment and she really, really needed to wash—he pursed his lips and kissed the glass.
Oh, for goodness’ sake. Heart squeezing, she leaned forward and placed her lips across from his. They held that pose for a long moment as the hot water cascaded down her back and thighs, tickling her feet. A second before she gave up the fight and reached for the shower handle to join him flesh to flesh, he withdrew and disappeared into the fog.
The water was much too hot. She turned down the temperature—cool it, Molly, seriously—and then washed her hair and the rest of her body as quickly as possible. She got soap in her eyes in her rush and had to turn her face to the spray to stop the burning.
At that moment, while she was unprepared, fighting blindness, Edward joined her in the shower stall. He was naked and carried a coffee cup in his hand, moving past her to sit on the tile across from her, out of range of the spray, avoiding getting wet. He set the mug on the marble seat with the slow but graceful gesture of an experienced waiter—she’d worked at the Platinum Club for years, so she recognized good service—and then turned his face to hers. A bland smile tease
d his lips.
“Your coffee,” he said.
“I see that.”
“Extra sugar, extra cream,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned back, stretching out his long, muscular legs, hooking one ankle over the other, and regarded her naked, wet body.
Turned on by his gaze, she stroked her belly and hips, licked her finger, pinched her nipples, did all the things she hoped he’d like.
As she’d intended, the amused expression faded from his face. Eyes darkening, he suddenly stood up and moved toward her.
“By sea or by land?” she asked, wiping water out of her eyes.
He paused. “Excuse me?”
“Should I dry off, or are we going to do this here?”
His amusement returned. He put his hands on his hips. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “Do what, my dear?” His formal, British intonations were belied by the erect cock jutting up between them.
She suddenly wanted to see him wet. Very wet. One quick step to the right and…
BAM. Nailed him. Nailed it. The spray struck him just below the waist. He inhaled audibly, arching his back, and seemed to shudder all over. But then, with a taut, predatory grin, he took another step and caught her up in his arms, lifting her up to block the spray.
Water poured over her shoulders and trickled between their bodies, making him slippery, exciting the nerves all over her skin. Then he was licking her breasts, caressing the slippery skin between her thighs, moaning her name over and over against her flesh. She reached out to the wall for balance and was turning in his arms until she was facing away from him. His hands stroked her shoulders and back and hips. Suddenly there was only one hand. He moved away for a moment and then…
The desire that had already burned bright that morning was reignited by a blast of water on her clit and the pressure of his cock between the backs of her thighs.
“Oh God!” she cried, clinging to the wall for support. He held a shower nozzle between her legs from the front while he prepared to take her from behind. Her knees buckled, overwhelmed by the onslaught from all sides.