How Sweet It Is

by Brayden, Melissa

  Molly stepped into her space, her lips parted slightly. She cradled Jordan’s face in her hands and pulled her in slowly. The kiss was equally slow, and God damn it, beyond good. She loved the way Molly kissed. It was thorough, tantalizing, and in this particular moment, it tasted sweet, like lemonade.

  The couch was a few feet away, and Jordan angled them in that direction, the kiss unbroken. It wasn’t even an option really, to break that kiss. Molly palmed her breast through her shirt in a move that made her hitch in a breath. Molly’s thumb circled the nipple she could feel straining against her bra. Not satisfied, Molly pushed her tank top up as she settled Jordan onto the couch and slid on top, all soft, determined, and sexy. With each breath Molly took, her breasts rose and fell against Jordan.

  Yeah, this.

  This was the moment she’d needed since she’d arrived at Molly’s house. It was quite easily, perfection.

  She was perfection.

  After one last searing kiss, Molly pushed the cups of Jordan’s bra up, and with her tongue began to trace circles around first one breast then the other. As she pulled a nipple more firmly into her mouth and sucked, Jordan moaned quietly. She reached around and pulled Molly firmly up against her, needing so much more and not wanting to wait for it. But Molly gently grasped her wrists and placed them next to her head in a signal that she was in charge, a move that upped Jordan’s level of need about three notches. The expression on her face was one of such earnest intent that it was all Jordan could do to surrender to her touch.

  God, this woman. She was dying.

  Molly kissed lazily down her stomach to her abdomen and began to unbutton her jeans slowly, excruciatingly so, and when it just about seemed like her world had stopped on its axis, there was a knock at the door. They both went still. When the sound of a doorbell followed, their eyes met. “Just stay quiet and they’ll go away,” Molly whispered.

  Jordan nodded and held her eyes, trying desperately to maintain her breathing with Molly’s hands still on the zipper of her jeans. Several seconds passed.

  “MollyDolly, you home?” Another knock. “Your car is in the driveway.”

  Molly’s eyes widened and she pushed herself up. “Dad?” she called. “How did he get here?” she murmured and made her way quickly to the door.

  Jordan took the cue and put herself back together again, attempting to resemble a normal human being going about life. No crazy almost-sex here. She followed Molly to the entryway where she found her ushering her father into the house.

  “Hi there, sweetheart,” he said, kissing Molly’s cheek and squeezing her tight.

  Molly looked incredibly concerned. “Is everything all right? What’s going on?”

  “No, no, everything is fine. Just thought I’d pay my daughter a visit. Oh, hello,” he said, noticing Jordan for the first time.

  “Dad, it’s Jordan Tuscana. You remember Jordan.”

  He looked harder and broke into an enormous grin. “Why, it sure is. Well, would you look at this girl? I haven’t seen you in years.” He closed the distance between them and pulled Jordan into a warm embrace. She’d always liked Mr. O’Brien. There was something about him that spoke of kindness, and there was always that contagious twinkle in his eye. Plus, he used to give her a free cookie when she’d stopped by the bakeshop growing up.

  “Hi, Mr. O. It’s so good to see you.”

  “You too.” He turned to Molly and hooked a thumb at Jordan. “This one’s turned into quite a looker.”

  “She has,” Molly agreed conservatively. “All grown up, it seems.”

  “Doesn’t it just seem?” Jordan said playfully, sliding Molly a private look. Molly responded with widened eyes, a silent warning for her to behave.

  “You don’t look much like Cassie,” Mr. O’Brien said, studying Jordan. “But I suppose you always favored your mother’s side of the family and Cassie your father’s. Wouldn’t you say, Molly?”

  Jordan caught the obvious tension that entered Molly’s body at the mention of her sister and deflated a little at the sight. It was still there, that silent barrier between them. Maybe it always would be.

  “Yeah, I’d say that’s about right.” But her eyes had lost the vibrancy that had been there just a moment before, and Jordan felt the hit.

  She’d spent her whole life being compared to Cassie. Why would this be any different? The only thing was, it was too important to pale in comparison when it came to Molly. She couldn’t live with falling short in this instance. So what did that mean for them?

  “What have you girls got going tonight?”

  Molly shook her head at him. “Wait. You haven’t explained how you got here.” She threw a curious glance out the entryway window. “Did someone from The Manor drive you? Why didn’t they call?”

  “I walked,” he said, and strolled past them into the living room.

  “Dad!” Molly said, following him. “That’s like fourteen blocks. Please tell me you didn’t. You know better.”

  Mr. O’Brien took a seat and sighed deeply as he settled into the chair. “Relax. I made it here in one piece.”

  “And what if you hadn’t?” Molly looked horrified. “Your heart can’t take that kind of exertion anymore. The doctors have been through this with you. Why won’t you listen to them?”

  “Molly, I’m a sixty-eight-year-old man who wanted to see his daughter. And I decided to do just that.”

  “I would have come to you. Or picked you up.”

  Mr. O’Brien looked frustrated and a little sad. “I have to be able to do things for myself. Why won’t anyone let me? I’m more than capable—” But he was coughing now, and it didn’t sound good. Molly moved to sit beside him and Jordan sought a glass of water from the kitchen.

  When the rattling cough subsided, he drank a few swallows from the glass. “I’m sorry,” he said to Molly resolutely. “I don’t like upsetting you, but I needed to get out on my own this afternoon. I needed to feel like a person again. Like myself.”

  Molly nodded, but tears touched her eyes. She hugged him then, and Jordan felt a sentimental pull at the display. They’d always had such a strong bond, Molly and her father. For years, she’d watched their relationship with envy. She didn’t have very many gentle moments with her own father. He just wasn’t built that way. A ruffling of her hair, or a quick half hug. He meant well, she knew that, but it had never been easy the way it was for the two people in front of her. They were a team and it showed.

  “Why don’t we all go to dinner?” Jordan asked. It wasn’t exactly her place to make such a suggestion, but it was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Mr. O’Brien just seemed so sad and she wanted desperately to cheer him up.

  He seemed to perk up a bit at the offer. “I don’t want to ruin any plans you might have.”

  Molly shrugged. “We don’t have plans and I’m starving. Do you feel up for it?”

  An enormous smile broke across his face, as if he were touched at the invitation. “I’d really like that.”

  “Great,” Molly said. “Let me call over to The Manor and let them know what’s going on. I don’t want them sending out a search party for you.” As she passed Jordan, she squeezed her arm. “Thank you,” she said quietly, meeting her eyes.

  Jordan nodded, happy to hear she hadn’t overstepped her bounds.

  *

  Molly listened to the two of them in awe. They were like long lost best pals.

  “I think City Lights might have been his best work.” Her father set down his fork. “The opening scene where the tramp meets the flower girl, now that was a masterpiece.”

  Jordan nodded, her eyes sparkling in excitement. “Did you know Chaplin shot that scene three hundred and forty-two times? He couldn’t figure out how the blind girl was going to mistake the tramp for a wealthy man. Can you imagine the mood on that set?”

  “I wouldn’t want to.”

  “Cheers to that.” They clinked glasses and Molly regarded them. They’d been chatting about
movies for the past thirty minutes and seemed to be having a great time. It was fun to watch them exchange stories, each so involved in what the other had to say. She could listen to them all night.

  It turned out that Jordan’s idea had been a good one.

  They’d decided on Angelina’s, a quiet little Italian restaurant just on the perimeter of Applewood. They’d shared a bottle of Chianti, though her father limited himself to one glass. The homemade lasagna was to die for, and Molly had been eying Jordan’s spaghetti and meatballs ever since their food had arrived. When her father excused himself to the restroom, she made her move.

  “Hey, isn’t that Mrs. Trimble, the hateful algebra teacher from high school?”

  Jordan turned in her chair and Molly slyly stole a meatball and popped it into her mouth. Jordan whirled back around and shot her a look of feigned shock. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “So incredibly worth it,” Molly managed as she finished chewing the most wonderful meatball on the planet.

  “Totally blatant.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a daredevil. They actually call me that around town. Daredevil Molly.”

  Jordan laughed. “First of all, no one calls you that, and second of all, you’re really cute when you have sauce all over your face.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Right now. Yeah.”

  “Oh,” Molly said, appropriately embarrassed. She grabbed her napkin and went about scrubbing the side of her mouth.

  “No, it’s actually over—Here, I got it.” Jordan delicately dabbed the corner of Molly’s mouth, smiling. Her voice was now low, intimate. “I can’t believe the same girl who was systematically taking my clothes off just two hours ago is now blushing over a little marina sauce.”

  Molly felt her face heat further along with other parts of her. “You cannot say things like that to me in a restaurant. Besides, I was…in the moment then.” But just the mention of their interlude on the couch took Molly right back there.

  “But not now?”

  Molly could faintly smell Jordan’s perfume. Some sort of intoxicating vanilla fragrance that was affecting her ability to think clearly. Before dinner, Jordan had run home and changed into her alter ego, fashionable supermodel. Her outfit of designer jeans, a royal blue cuff shirt, and modest heels, was in great contrast to the one she’d worn earlier. One of the qualities that made her incredibly intriguing. Not to mention alluring. So many interesting layers to explore. Molly’s eyes dipped to Jordan’s mouth, and her stomach did a roll. It took her a minute to find her voice, her body now thrumming. “No, I’d say now too.”

  Jordan’s expression took on the heat Molly felt. “We’re kind of—”

  “Combustible,” Molly supplied, without even having to think about it.

  “What’s combustible?” her dad asked as he settled back into his chair.

  Molly laughed, totally caught. “Oh. The, um, what’s it called? The chocolate lava cake they rolled by.”

  He shook his head. “I wish I’d saved room.”

  “Next time,” Jordan said.

  The mood from earlier was recaptured easily as they settled in and waited for the check. It had been a fun night. Her dad looked a little tired, but the laughing, smiling, and time out seemed to have bolstered his spirits noticeably. In fact, she didn’t understand why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Visiting him daily was all well and good, but she should have been taking him out more, even if it had to be for short spurts. He was a gregarious type who needed to feel connected to the world. She decided to make a point to plan things for them to do together outside of The Manor.

  As they drove back to Molly’s house after getting her father settled back in, Molly felt herself at a loss.

  What now? She didn’t know the proper protocol here and didn’t want to assume anything. There was Jordan’s car parked along the curb, and there were the steps that led to her house.

  Her bed.

  So many options with so many repercussions.

  Jordan turned to face her on the sidewalk outside of the house. “It was fun tonight. Catching up with your dad. Smart guy.”

  The warmth in Jordan’s eyes caused Molly to relax. “He is. Thanks for being so wonderful tonight. You knew what he needed when I didn’t. He had a great night tonight because of you.”

  Jordan raised a shoulder and let it drop almost shyly. “I don’t know what you mean. We all had a fun night.”

  “Yes, you do.” Molly took a step into her and tugged lightly on her shirt. “You’ve turned into a pretty great person, you know that?”

  Jordan appeared genuinely touched. “Thank you.” They stood on the sidewalk starring at each other lazily before Jordan took a deep breath. “I guess I should say good night.”

  “Yeah.” And then, “Is that what you want?”

  Jordan took a minute and shook her head.

  “What we’re doing here, Jordan, it can’t be—”

  She held up a hand, but her eyes held understanding. “I get it. You don’t have to explain. I won’t develop any grand ideas about the future. I’m a big girl, Molly, and I know the score here.”

  But Molly felt the need to explain. “No, it’s not like that. There’s no score. I care about you, Jordan, a lot. It’s just that this is a tricky situation and, God, when you look at me like that I can’t even think straight.”

  Jordan’s lips parted in surprise. She moved in slowly and kissed her, causing Molly’s head to spin right on cue. “Can we go inside?” Jordan said quietly. “Forget the world for a while? Even if it’s just temporary?”

  “That sounds about perfect.” And it did. They were on the same page and all was well.

  When they came together that night, their pace was slow. Wonderfully so. Molly savored each tender touch, excruciating as it was to not race ahead. They enjoyed each other in a whole new way that Molly found intoxicating. She let herself get lost in Jordan, and it was the most satisfying feeling in the whole world.

  Letting go.

  She marveled how adept Jordan seemed to be at just about everything, and that included sex. She knew exactly when to be sweet and coaxing and when she should be neither of those things. It was a powerful combination.

  “You have some impressive moves,” she said later as they lay there exhausted alongside each other. She traced the outside of Jordan’s breast with her finger.

  Jordan propped her head up with her elbow. “You haven’t seen all of them yet.”

  The sentence shot a powerful thrill through her center. “I can’t even imagine what you’re referencing.”

  “You don’t have to imagine. Because there’s always later.” And then she smiled. And there it was, that connection, that little click that they’d always had between them. In spite of all the changes, it was alive and well and had only been added to by what they just shared. Because she just had to, she leaned in and brushed Jordan’s lips with hers.

  “Later it is. For now, we should get some shuteye. I hear the rooster crows early around here.”

  Jordan eyed her with amusement. “You sound like one of the Waltons. A very alluring Walton, but still a Walton. And please tell me that was just something to say and that there’s not a rooster in your backyard.”

  Molly looked at her quite seriously. “I guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

  “God, I think I have to now.”

  “That’s good news,” Molly said and held her gaze.

  They snuggled in, limbs tangled, Jordan’s head tucked under Molly’s chin. It was easy between them, the way they fit together. She never would have imagined it could feel this easy.

  “Night, John-Boy,” Jordan whispered.

  Molly laughed and pulled Jordan in tighter. It wasn’t long before deep, even breathing indicated Jordan had drifted off first.

  She was grateful for the quiet moment because she didn’t have the right words to describe what it was she was feeling. As she lay there staring out her win
dow with Jordan asleep in her arms, she watched the moonlight play in the trees and shook her head in wonder.

  Something slow and steady was beginning to take root within her and spread out. It was an odd feeling, discovering someone that you’ve known for most of your life.

  It was so much more than she’d figured on. She’d expected fun and maybe even the intense chemistry. Instead, she’d been swept away by so much more than all of that. Everything in her had surrendered to Jordan that night.

  When her alarm went off at four the next morning, she snuck out from underneath Jordan’s arm, feeling the loss of the warmth against her. As she made her way to the shower, she heard Jordan mumble quietly.

  “Not a rooster.”

  She smiled and turned back, but Jordan was already fast asleep, her hair across the pillow. She looked peaceful, angelic even. She walked back to the bed and pulled the sheet across her, covering her breasts, tucking her in. The morning air carried a chill after all. It had nothing to do with the unexplained feelings she felt swirling within her.

  Nothing at all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, Jordan took a tentative sip of the Starbucks latte she knew she shouldn’t be holding. George had picked up coffee for them on what would be his last morning in town, but she could see imaginary Molly glaring at her in the recesses of her mind. The beverage was, quite simply, contraband.

  She and George walked up Main Street en route to the library for Jordan to show him the business plan she’d been working on. George had some connections in the venture capital world, and though she had a decent nest egg, it wouldn’t be enough to get the production company up and running without outside financial assistance. They’d worked on films together before and had such a harmonious creative energy that she was thrilled he’d agreed to come on board.